His brows pull together in a tiny frown. Slowly, he shakes his head. “When I’m looking at you this close—when I know I’m about to kiss you again—I can’t think of anything except you.” I’d just about fall off the couch if he hadn’t already hooked his arms around my waist. He puts his lips back over mine, and against my mouth he murmurs, “I hope you can keep your head better than I can, Harvard.”
The problem is, I know exactly what he means. I’ve been trying to pretend this is just about the sex. And the sex, admittedly, is A-plus. But it wasn’t the sex that kept me coming back to him all those months before any of this shit started. There was something else there, some indefinable itch only he can scratch. A dangerous spark between us that got bigger and brighter every time we met.
And now I don’t know if we can put the fire out.
It scares me like it scares him, but fear makes me curious where it makes Nick cautious. “Let me clear your head,” I suggest, and reach back down between us to his crotch. I feel rather than hear the rumble in his chest, and he finally lets me get inside his pants while he recaptures my mouth with his. His cock is warm velvet against my palm, half-hard and getting harder, but I take my time stroking him. Tracing the veins, smoothing a fingertip around the edges of his cockhead, relishing the way I can make his lips falter on mine when I thumb over his slit.
But even more than having his dick in my hand, I’m enjoying his tongue in my mouth, his hand between my shoulder blades, the other around the back of my head, the feel of his pulse under my fingers when I wrap my spare hand along the side of his neck and pull his mouth harder into mine. We stay there for a while, rocking against each other, his cock safe and warm in my hand as our kiss deepens, changes direction, softens. We don’t break away from each other so much as ebb like an ocean tide, our lips still touching as he murmurs, “Let’s move this upstairs.”
He’s right. Whatever this is, it’s not a couch-based BJ. He helps me slide gently off his lap and then I put out my hand to pull him off the sofa, not because he needs my help, but because I can’t stand to not be touching him. We go slowly up the stairs together, his hands all over me as we go, but when we get up to the bed he’s just as unhurried as he was downstairs. We get naked leisurely, like we have all the time in the world.
God, I hope we do.
He guides rather than pushes me backward to the bed. The back of my knees hit it and he helps me fall gently back, spreading my legs open. He stands between them, towering over me, taking me in. I feel warmth starting to spread over me as he looks me over, my blood rushing to the surface of my skin, surging into my dick, a deep pulse starting in my balls to match my heartbeat. My eyes drop to his crotch and he gives this half-smirk, runs a hand over his thick cock, under it, holding it out as if for inspection.
I’m a simple man in some ways. I see Nicky’s cock, I want it in my mouth. So I begin to struggle up to my elbows, but he leans over me and presses me back down, one knee coming up and nestling against my nutsack in a half-threat, half-tease. His hand on my shoulder is gentle but firm.
“Lie down.”
I let my head fall back onto the covers obediently and Nick moves back, stands again. I sneak a hand to my crotch, but he swats it away. “I want to look at you.”
My breath catches at the softness of his voice and my back arches a little as he does just what he says he wants, his gaze searching out every part of me. I’m used to being looked at. Ilikeit; I like being the center of attention and the envy of the room. Even when people hate me, I still like to have their eyes on me. But I’ve never felt asseenbefore as I do now, lying spread out under Nick Fontana, displaying myself for his pleasure.
He plays with himself while he looks, petting at his dick with soft-fingered strokes, fondling the big balls underneath, his other hand teasing his nipple, and all the while I get more and more aroused, desire radiating through my whole body until I feel like I’m on fire from the tip of my nose to the soles of my feet.
“Nicky,” I gasp, when I can’t stand it any longer, and he takes pity on me. He kneels down between my legs and kisses up my thigh, presses his teeth into the sensitive skin high up, bites down softly, increasing the force of it until I groan and shift under him.
It’s only made me harder. The throb of desire takes on a desperate, almost painful edge, so that when he moves to the inside of my other thigh and bites again, the sting of it barely registers. “Please, Nicky.”
When his wide, flat tongue licks up my cock I lift my hips, trying to find more of him. But he holds my hips down as he sucks my cock into his mouth, his tongue winding down my shaft as he takes me deep. When I grab his head, bunch my fingers up in his hair, he chuckles, and the vibrations bring another edge of pleasure.
There’s no more teasing now. He gets down to it, his spit drooling down and soaking my sack, the back of his throat closing on my cockhead like an extra caress as he swallows me, encouraging me with grunts and sighs as he takes me right up to the brink—
And then he stops.
I curse him out, call him every name my addled brain can think of, some of which don’t even make sense, but he just crawls up next to me on the bed, chuckling. “See?” he says when I run out of breath. “Always in a hurry.”
He cups my face and pulls my mouth to his, his tongue flicking against mine, and I taste my own excitement. My dick lies aching on my belly, dripping in frustration, but when I reach down again to give myself a little relief, take the edge off with a few strokes, Nick grabs my wrist and firmly pushes it up above my head, then moves to take my other wrist and hold it down as well. He doesn’t stop kissing me for a single second. When I give an experimental pull against his grip, just to see what might happen, his fingers tighten and he gives a warning rumble.
You know what? I’m more than happy to let Nick Fontana hold me down and fuck me, if that’s what he wants. But all he’s doing right now is holding me down andkissingme.
I wrench my mouth away and plead, “Come on, Nicky, I can’t take much more of this.”
“Yeah you can,” he says, and he even lets my wrists go so he can prop himself up on one elbow, running a finger down my chest, over my abs, circling in a wide outline around my twitching cock. “I want you so out of your head you can’t talk.”
“That,” I tell him, “is not possible.”
“Guess we’ll find out.”
It’s partly his amused drawl that gets to me. But it’s also the knowledge that—if he wanted to—Nicky could so easily overpower me, tie me down, manipulate me into any position he wanted and then fuck the living daylights out of me for as long or as short as he wanted…
And then do it all over again.
If we didn’t have jobs, lives, people counting on us, there’s a part of me that would like to spend the rest of my days doing just that. But even though we do have all that baggage, we also have this.This, here and now.
I focus on the way his lips feel, moving across my skin, the blunt weight of his teeth on my nipple before he sucks on it,hard. I hiss, arc towards him instead of shrinking away, and then grab his head to press him closer. He does it again, one hand sliding down my body so I think maybe he’ll jack me off while he does it, and I could enjoy that, a slow hand job while he works on bruising up my nipples. But his fingers evade my junk and land on the still-tender bite mark on my inner thigh, pressing into it until I whimper a protest.
And then he pinches me hard, right on top of the bite.
