“Enough what?”
“Beckett,” he warned.
“Enough what?”
“Enough prep.”
Beckett pressed their lips together and lined his cock up, but he didn’t push in. Rhys could feel the throbbing, blunt head of Beckett’s dick against him and he was near mindless with the need to be filled.
“What then?” Beckett whispered against his mouth.
“I want you,” he murmured. “Please.”
“Want this?”
“You’re getting bold, Beckett.” He snaked his hands up Beckett’s shoulders and spread his legs, planting his feet firmly on the ground.
“You’re getting desperate,” Beckett teased, smiling against Rhys’s parched lips. “I like it.”
“Please fuck me,” he finally pleaded. “You said you wanted to make me come, so do—”
Beckett fucked the rest of the words right out of him with one sharp thrust of his hips. His cock slid into Rhys’s asshole, stretching his rim and filling him completely. Rhys’s eyes rolled back in his head and he threaded his fingers together at the base of Beckett’s neck.
“Hmn?” Beckett teased, licking Rhys’s mouth from left to right.
“So do it,” he managed, even though the words barely came out louder than his breath.
Beckett pulled out and eased back in, setting a slow and relentless pace. His oil-slick cock stretched Rhys open and, with every snap of his hips, drove Rhys closer to an orgasm he wanted more than any number of zeroes in his bank account. Beckett was whispering filthy things against his ear that he couldn’t make sense of, and then a slippery hand shoved between their stomachs and wrapped around his cock.
“I like you like this.” Beckett’s voice was low and dangerous, his hand stroking in time with his body.
“Like what?” His balls churned, hot and heavy and ready to empty. But Beckett’s pace was slow and punishing. He dragged his hands down Beckett’s back to his ass, trying to push him deeper, faster, anything.
“I think this is the most real you’ve ever been with me.” Beckett bit the thin and tender skin behind his ear and Rhys’s orgasm slammed through him. “You’re so fucking authentic when you’re turned on.”
Rhys grunted, a restrained cry forcing its way out from behind his clenched teeth. His entire body tightened like a wound rubber band, the truth of Beckett’s words almost like ice water on his orgasm. He came anyway because he was helpless to stop his own pleasure from drowning him. Rhys’s entire body trembled and clenched, and above him Beckett arched and stilled. Beckett’s cock throbbed as he filled the condom, and sweat fell from his chin and spattered against Rhys’s chest.
Beckett let out a shuddering breath, buried deeper inside of Rhys than he imagined any man had ever been before, in more ways than one, and then he pulled out. Beckett rolled onto his back and collapsed on the ground, shoulder to shoulder with Rhys, whose entire body had broken out in gooseflesh. He shivered, and he hated feeling so fulfilled and so stripped at the same time.
“I like it,” Beckett whispered.
Rhys turned his head to the side, finding Beckett’s eyes closed and a peaceful expression on his face, even as his body heaved with the force of his breathing. Beckett’s fingers inched over, searching out Rhys’s hand to hold. He spread his fingers and let Beckett twine their hands together. Rhys stared at Beckett’s profile, committing it to memory.
“Like what?” he dared to ask.
Beckett opened his eyes and turned his head so they were once again nose to nose, eye to eye.
“When I feel like I get to see the real you.”
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
BECKETT IS WORTH ONE WHOLE WHEEL OF CHEESE
Rhys blinked slowly, his whole face flushed. Beckett reached up and traced his fingers along the sharp lines of Rhys’s cheekbones, feeling Rhys’s hot breath against the palm of his hand.
“Was that okay?” he whispered.
Rhys kissed his palm, but rolled away. “Yeah.”
