There’s a push and a pull in our gaze. A question. An answer. A very slight hesitation in kind eyes that are usually certain. “I-I want to fuck you.”
There’s a blue-green flash when he says it. His arms stiffen, pushing him up and buying a little more space between us. Space that’s supposed to sober me. Space that’s supposed to give me a hit of fresh air and make me snap out of it.
It doesn’t.
His words linger between us, taking on a life of their own.
I reach up and take his head in both hands, his hair silky between my fingers. I pull him down until I feel his breath on my cheeks and a whisper of his lips on mine. My tongue finds his and moves against it. A slow dance. A long kiss.
“I want that too,” I moan into his mouth.
It’s true. I mean it. That’s what I want, for him, but not just for him. It’s what I want for me too. The concept of it, the image I have in my mind, and the way his body feels on top of mine bring a distant murmur roaring to the surface.
I want it.
I want him.
I want him to fuck me. I want to lie on my back and open my legs, and I want him to do what he wants with me. I don’t care if it hurts, or if I’m embarrassed, or if I don’t really know what I’m doing.
He wants something I have, and I want to give it to him.
“You do?” he cries, dropping his weight onto me and crushing me in a hug so exuberant it’s impossible not to laugh.
He’s an idiot, but he’s the best kind of idiot because he’s sliced through the tremor of nerves I was feeling and replaced them with something light and playful.
“I do,” I chuckle.
His face is buried in my neck, and he plasters kisses wherever he can land them. I’m ticklish, and this kind of boisterous devotion flips my switch. My laughter devolves into a helpless giggle. A giggle that teeters on hysteria before melting into a low groan when Connor rests his full weight on me and rocks his hips against me.
He’s as hard as I am, and the promise of what’s about to happen is thick in the room. In the air. In my lungs. In my veins.
“You know I’ll take care of you, don’t you?” he whispers between kisses. “I’ll take such good care of you, Lennon, and I’ll make sure it’s good for you.”
His lips are on my neck, near my ear, and then his tongue finds my earlobe. A hot-and-cold shiver sends goose bumps down one side of my body. My mind drifts, landing in a quiet place. A calm place. A place without words, where an open-mouth kiss and a soft sigh meanI know you will.
He works his way down my neck and chest, planting kisses as he goes. Soft kisses and hard kisses. Kisses that tease and kisses that electrify. Kisses with lips and tongue and enough pressure to swallow rational thought completely, leaving nothing but a thundering heart and waves upon waves of simmering arousal in their wake.
When he gets to my cock, he looks up at me and smiles before running his tongue slowly up the length. The heat in my veins runs through his too. I can see it in his eyes. In the rigidity of his shoulders. In the way he’s crouching over me. Like a hunterwaiting to pounce. Like a hungry man looking at his favorite meal.
He handles my dick with the wonder of a new lover and the skill of an old one. He teases the ridge of my head with soft, puckered lips and bathes my balls with a broad, outstretched tongue. It feels incredible. Sparks light a path from my dick to my balls and from my balls to my brain.
He goes down on me slowly, taking his time, smothering me in pleasure as he gently strokes my balls with his fingertips. That hand, the one on my balls, travels down farther, but it does it in increments so slow that I forget to tense. I forget that this is new and I haven’t done it before.
I’m so focused on the lavish attention my cock is receiving that I barely register when he stops to get lube out of his drawer and applies it to his fingers. I’m aware that his fingers are slick when he touches my ass though. Trust me, I’m more than aware of that. The first slippery stroke travels over my rim and back again, and a dart of pleasure shoots up my ass.
A suggestion. A sexy proposition. A secret only he and I know.
He doesn’t penetrate me so much as he nudges me open. Encouraging me to soften, more than split open. His action is gentle. A tiny prod with a little weight behind it. He drops his head and wraps his mouth around my cock as he does it, and a long, wanton moan leaks out of me. Familiar sensations merge with brand-new ones. They blend together and deepen.
He asks for a little more access with each pass of his lips, and I lie back and grant it.
I’m mesmerized by the feeling. The old and the new. A well-known acquaintance, and an enigmatic intruder. His finger slides deeper, and a novel sensation is born. A sting and a burn. A hot, blazing indulgence that makes my legs fall open and my eyes slam shut. It sizzles between my legs and up my spine, making my hips arch and strain.
I hold on to the sheet beneath me, balling it in my fists, and don’t move a muscle when he adds a second finger. The sensation it brings with it is tattooed into me so deeply that it submerges everything else. Connor seems to know what it’s like, what he’s doing to me, what’s happening to me. He must because his actions are unhurried, his expression thoughtful and lined with concentration as he searches my face for signs of pleasure or pain.
When he finds no hint of discomfort, he begins moving his fingers in and out of me, lighting up new neural pathways and amplifying them tenfold when he sinks his mouth onto my cock.
My heart beats out of my chest.
