I’ve never been personally involved with a protectee before, so being emotionally vested in someone and protecting them at the same time is…
Freaking me out, a little.
Hell of a first concert outing together, I suppose.
Damn sure won’t forget it.
He doesn’t speak, and I finally release him once we’re standing in front of my door so I can dig my keys out of my pocket and unlock it. I get him inside and disarm my alarm while he closes the door behind us.
When I turn so I can lock the door, he throws himself at me, wrapping his arms around me, my coat sliding off his shoulders and puddling on the floor as he jumps up and his legs circle my waist.
And he kisses me.
Not any of the tender or even insistent kisses we’ve already shared tonight, but a tongue-swallowing, desperate snog that instantly hardens my softened cock.
I cup a hand under his ass as I kiss him back, blindly flailing my other hand to find the deadbolts and knob to get them locked.
We’re still kissing as I turn and carry him into my bedroom.
Yes, I know what’s going on here. This is the back end of his shock, it’s adrenaline and fear and a messy soup of brain chemicals mixed with emotions and sexual attraction, and wereallyshould talk about this, rightnow. I’m older, I have the experience, the knowledge.
Fuck, I’ve got the goddamnedtraining.
So what do you think I’m going to do?
If you answered anything other than I’m going to fuck and claim this boy and make him mine, then you’re dead-asswrong.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Desperation tinges Jordan’s kisses as I kick off my shoes and turn to sit on the edge of my bed. He ends up straddling me, pushing me back onto the bed and holding on to my blazer lapels as he kisses me and climbs me like a damn tree.
We’re still kissing even as I reach up and slide his coat off his shoulders so he can shrug out of it. Under it, he’s wearing a long-sleeved button-up with an undershirt, and jeans. I start working on his buttons as I feel him reach back and yank the sneakers off his feet. His hands loosen my tie while I’m already tugging his shirt and undershirt out of his waistband and pulling them off over his head.
That’s the only thing he interrupts our kiss for, and I haven’t even tossed them off the bed when he’s kissing me again.
The needy hunger there completely disables every ounce of common sense and intelligence I have in my body.
When was the last time Elliot tackled me like this?
God, I can’t even remember.
Used to be a time he could barely keep his hands off me when we were safely behind a locked door.
Shoving those darker thoughts aside, I unfasten Jordan’s belt while he’s trying to unbutton my shirt. I can’t even get my blazer off because of him sitting on top of me.
“Lube?” he mutters against my lips.
“Drawer.” I point to the nightstand.
He lifts his head, looks where I’m pointing, and stretches to reach it. Then he stands—on the bed—shoves his jeans and briefs off, kicks them off the bed, and drops back down onto me before I can sit up. My cock’s dying to be freed and it doesn’t help Jordan’s squirming is rubbing against it through my slacks.
He’s fucking gorgeous. I run my hands all over him, everywhere. Not a lot of body hair, and his clothes hid the lean muscles and lines of his legs and abs. His cock is maybe seven inches, slender, and circumcised. It’s also fucking hard and already leaking pre-cum. Barely slowing, he unfastens my belt and slacks and yanks my briefs down enough to expose my cock.
I’m going to roll him onto his back so I can go down on him and apply the brakes to this when I hear thesnickof the lube bottle’s cap. He smears lube all over my cock and it takes me a breath or two to register what, exactly, he’s doing. Before I can sit up and pause things, he rises onto his knees and I feel him press the head of my cock against his rim.
And then he impales himself all the way to the root in one hard thrust, making both of us moan and nearly making me come.
“Fuckyeah!” he gasps, kissing me again.
