He kissed me with a hunger unlike anything I’d ever experienced—like he wanted to consume me. His lips were soft and warm, his tongue demanding as it met mine—but it was the desperation in him that melted the last of my resistance. As though he were a drowning man, clamoring for air, and I was the lifeline keeping him from sinking. I could practically feel it coiled through every part of him, and it jerked something free in my chest too.
Because I understood. I felt it too. Like I’d been missing him for a thousand years, but hadn’t known it until now.
I stripped Cole’s shirt off him and threw it on the floor. Then I went for his belt. It came undone, and then I popped the button on his pants and slipped the zipper down. Cole hardly seemed to notice. He was too intent on kissing me.
Nicolas got my pants down too, much faster than I had done his, all the while kissing me with that frantic desperation.
A flash of memory surged—of a deep stone chamber with walls, floor, and ceiling of rock, torchlight etching shadows across Nicolas’s face. His chest rose and fell beneath an emerald-green tunic, his cheeks flushed, lips swollen from kissing, his shaggy golden hair slightly mussed. We touched each other in the half-darkness.
It only lasted an instant, but it was so vivid I might have been in two places at once.
When I came back to myself, he was watching me closely, breathing hard, his eyes dark with emotion.
“Sorry,” he whispered, almost as if speaking to himself. “Foolish of me.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but it didn’t matter.
“Kiss me again,” I demanded, my voice rough.
Nicolas’s lips curved, and he arched a brow before stepping forward. “I have a better idea.”
Then he wrapped his hand around my cock. His other arm encircled my waist so I couldn’t move away, even if I wanted to. I let out a groan as he began working me with his hand, and I bucked against him, desperate for more friction.
“Nicolas,” I breathed, as he picked up the pace. “Nicolas, fuck. Yes, yes.”
My palm found his cock, which was leaking a steady stream of precum, and I began to stroke him the same way, loving the feel of him in my hand. I slipped my other arm around his waist, pinning his body to mine the way he’d done to me.
His eyes slid halfway shut and he let out a soft, needy gasp.
Satisfaction rumbled through me. It had clearly been a while since anyone manhandled him back, and he liked it—I could tell. His lips parted and he moaned as I worked him toward his climax.
He copied my rhythm exactly and I couldn’t stop myself from bucking against him, needing more of that delicious friction. My eyes were fixed on his delicate, beautiful mouth. What would those lips look like wrapped around my cock?
What would it feel like, plunging into his mouth? Or perhaps my lips around him, instead. Could I make him lose control and rut into me? Would he make me gag on his hardness until my eyes watered and my own cock was ready to blow?
The thought alone brought my orgasm on out of fucking nowhere. I let out a surprised sound, somewhere between a groan and a shout, my whole body locking up.
Nicolas dropped to his knees and took me in his mouth as I came, letting me shoot rope after rope of hot cum down his throat. That delicate, pretty mouth looked incredible with my cock between his lips—and the sensation of being buried inside all that warm wetness was almost too much.
He jerked his own cock furiously, clearly close.
“Stand,” I ground out, gripping his shoulder and popping him off my cock. He let me, rising to his feet.
His voice was husky, eyes hooded with lust, and he didn’t stop jerking himself for an instant. “What are you—”
It was my turn to drop to my knees.
“Oh,” he breathed. His eyes slid halfway closed, voice turning into a soft whine as he continued stroking himself. “I’m getting close.”
Then his body tensed, just like mine had, and he let out a sharp moan as he came.
Without hesitation, I put my lips around his cock and took him all the way to the base. He bucked against me, fingers threading through my hair, letting out another strangled moan as he shot his load down my throat.
I swallowed without missing a beat. Not something I usually did for most guys—but for Nicolas, it was impossible not to want to.
He bucked again, gasping, as I dragged my tongue along the underside of his shaft on the way back up. Then I pulled off, wrapped a hand around his cock, and stroked him a few more times until another bead of white gathered at the tip. I licked it off, savoring the saltiness, the faint sweetness, the taste of Nicolas.
“You’re more dangerous than I thought,” Nicolas said as I rose. His lips curved into a coy smile, meeting my gaze with those strange electric-blue eyes. “I like it.”
