I find myself wanting his body, needing it, to help ease the pain within me. I reach my hand under his shirt and greedily claw my hands up and down his tighttorso.
Who the fuck are you, JesseMorgan?
“Do you want me in that ass again?” I ask him before grabbing his hip and pulling him back tighter against me, creating a pressure in my cock that leaves me hungering for himdesperately.
“I’ve been wanting it back in me all night,” hesays.
I lean forward, my head over his shoulder, his turned to me, and wekiss.
I meant it to be a brief exchange, but his mouth tastes so good, like the margaritas he’s been drinking, even with a tinge ofsalt.
And the longer we kiss, the more this tension within merelaxes.
I desperately crave it to the point where I just keep kissing. Finally, when I manage to pull myself away from him, we stumble out of the bar and head back to mycondo.
The moment we get out of the cab, it’s difficult for us to make it to my unit because I keep forcing him against the walls and kissing him. It’s only through Jesse’s direction and guidance that we makeit.
I don’t know how, but at some point, he ended up with my keys, and he unlocks the door, pulls mein.
My arms are around him as I push him up back against the wall adjacent to my front door. My tongue is in his delicious mouth in notime.
I pull away to tell him, “You’re mine, Jesse. You’re allmine.”
I don’t know where the possessive thought comes from, but I like it. I don’t deny this part of me that’s so selfish about my lust for him, about the things I want to do tohim.
As I pull his shirt off, I’m so busy trying to get my lips back on him that I push them against his shirt too soon and force the fabric across my face. My lips burn, but I don’t care because it’s not long before they’re back on Jesse’s, and that’s all thatmatters.
We stumble toward the guest bedroom, and as we make our way through it, I remove my shorts, accidentally tripping on them and tumbling toward Jesse. My body lurches forward, shoving him down onto the bed so that I’m crushing him beneath myweight.
“Shit. I’m sorry,” I tellhim.
He laughs. “It’sfine.”
“I guess I’m drunker than Ithought.”
What if he’s too drunk for thistoo?
He must see the concern on my face because he asks, “What’swrong?”
“I don’t want to do anything if you’re not capable or if you feeluncomfortable.”
“I think I’ll feel worse if you don’t do anything tome.”
Now he’s got me laughing. “That seems to be a talent of yours,” Isay.
“What?”
“Making melaugh.”
He narrows his eyes like he’s trying to figure something out. “You’re such an interesting set of contradictions,Eric.”
As he says it, it pulls me back to those dark parts of me that he’s noticed in such a short time, that he has this ability to evoke from me, to stir within me, parts of me I try so hard to keep hidden from the rest of theworld.
He places his hand on the back of my head, stroking his fingers through my hair. “Eric, I just meant that there are aspects of you that puzzle me. Not in a badway.”
There’s something burning in my chest, that I feel I have to say. I’m compelled to because for some fucking reason, I want to tellJesse.
“I’m a terrible father,” I say quickly, and he looks totallythrown.
