Because Connor has turned me into a crazy person, instead of keeping still and not doing anything that could get us caught, I slide my finger a little deeper into his ass and then out again.
Deeper again and a little harder.
His eyes go vacant and he expels a soft, ragged breath on my face.
Rubber soles squeak on floor tile. A faucet runs and is switched off. The door opens and closes, and just like that, we’re alone again.
“Fuck,” he whispers, eyes alight with life and good things and sex. “That was close.”
“I know.” I laugh. “Too close. Let’s get the fuck out of here before we get arrested.”
He nods and sags against me slightly, taking a little more of my finger in his ass before pushing himself onto the balls of his feet and carefully unimpaling himself.
We stand side by side at the sinks, washing our hands, and our eyes meet in the mirror. There’s a different kind of heat swimming in my veins tonight. One that’s old and familiar. One that wants what it wants.
“Are you going to bend for me when we get home?” I ask his reflection.
He draws a breath in that way I’m beginning to love. A sexy, jerky way that makes my dick throb.
His chin raises, showing me a sultry view of his throat, and drops decisively.
45
Lennon
Don’tgetmewrong,I love the sex we’ve been having, but the sound Connor made when I pressed my finger into him has been ringing in my ears since the second it happened. It’s woken a different part of my brain. A part that wants to thrust. To push. To shove.
To fuck.
And fuck.
And fuck.
Now that the words have been spoken, and a plan has been made, I’m so fucking excited my insides are shaking. There’s a familiar tension in my bones. A flood. A fullness that’s made everything thick and slow.
We’re back home, thank fuck, and the front door has just swung closed. After hours of people and noise, the world falls blessedly silent. The apartment is still, other than the sound of uneven breathing. Quiet except for the hum of the current between us.
“Wanna hit the shower?” I suggest.
“Yeah, but you go first ’cause”—he tilts his head and raises a shoulder—“I’m going to take a while.”
I know what he means, and I like it. I shower so fast that I’m out before the water has fully heated up.
Once I’m out, I’m not sure if I should wait in his bedroom or mine, so I wait for him in the living room. I’ve thrown on a pair of sweats and an old long-sleeved T-shirt, and the longer I wait, the more unsure I start feeling about whether I’m in the right place and if I’m wearing the right thing.
My heart is beating fast, a fluttery flip-flop that makes me unsteady. I try to breathe deeply to calm myself. It doesn’t help.
I’m nervous.
I’m excited as hell, but this waiting is getting to me. The sitting here, knowing what’s going to happen, what I’m waiting for, what Connor and I are going to do when he comes out of the bathroom, it’s affecting me.
It’s taking me back.
Years back.
I remember this feeling. I felt like this long ago, before I ever had sex with anyone. I was a virgin then. I’m not anymore, but somehow, being with Connor makes everything feel new.
Everyone is unique, so of course, being with one person isn’t the same as being with another. It’s not a matter of gender either. It’s a matter of DNA sequences and life experiences. Genetics and personal history. It’s that no one else in the world is Connor Lockwood, and no one else has ever made me feel the way he does.
