As if reading my mind, Jeremiah said, “Just take your shirt off, please.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Ooh.” His eyes sparkled, and a smart-ass grin captured his lips. “I’ve never been into the dom/sub thing, but you calling me ‘sir’ made Little Jer twitch.”
Reluctantly, I gripped the bottom of my shirt and pulled it over my head, again struggling to meet his gaze, fearing the disappointment that might be there.
“Better, sir?” I asked, desperate to take the attention off my toothpick frame.
He didn’t speak.
I waited.
Still nothing.
Finally, I looked down. He was scanning my chest, letting his gaze roam across my skin as though memorizing every piece of me. His lips were parted, though I couldn’t tell if they were smiling or frozen in disgust.
“Theo—”
“I know. I need to work out. I always said—”
Rough hands gripped me and pulled my bare chest into his. Before I could finish my protest, his lips smothered mine, his tongue finding its courage and sneaking between my teeth. The moment it hit my own, my chest expanded—as did something far more sensitive in my pants.
“Look who likes to be naked,” Jeremiah breathed between kisses.
“I really don’t—”
“Shut up and kiss me,” he ordered. “I think you’re the sexiest man I’ve met in years. I want to kiss you and hold you and feelyou against me. I want to lick your balls and suck your cock. Hell, Theo, I want to be inside you and—”
“Really?”
What an idiotic thing to ask. He’d just answered that question with a lot of really tasty things. Why was I so fucking stupid?
His hands moved from my back to grip my ass.
“Oh!”
Then he kneaded.
“Oooh.”
Before I could think, he was shoving our cocks together, grinding me against his growing erection, kissing me like my mouth answered some question he’d been meaning to ask, like I held all the oxygen he could ever breathe—and he was determined to draw it out of me.
“Less talking. More kissing.”
“Yes, sir,” I mumbled into his mouth.
His chuckle ran through his lips and into my mouth. I couldn’t help but smile.
Then his hands were inside my shorts. I nearly leaped off the bed.
“Good. You’re up. You can take those pants off now,” he said.
Where had this bossy, in-charge tone come from?
Jeremiah had never been anything but kind, if a bit meek. For all his physical strength, he seemed to share many of the same insecurities I grappled with. And yet, there he was, taking control and telling me what to do. It was unnerving—and fucking hot.
Who knew being bossed around could make me weak in the knees?
