“You’re so lucky,” he’d said wistfully, and I’d agreed with him, but I’d been staring at him, the back of his head as he stood at the window, staring out, stripping off his snow jacket. The way his hair was still touched with snowflakes, melting even as I watched. The way his sweater, snow-dusted, pulled tight over the muscles of his back, hugged his shoulders and biceps. The way he stood with both feet planted firm on the ground, steady and balanced.
“So lucky,” I’d said, and then he’d turned around to smile at me.
Then. Maybe it was then that I’d given up, had to admit to myself that this was more than a hookup. He was more than a hookup.
It was the smell of him that brought the memory back on New Year’s Eve. The warm-wet-wool scent that he’d brought into the cabin on his first arrival was the same now, making me bury my nose in his dinner jacket after I pulled it off him.
“What is it?” Damon asked, pausing as he got his fingers hooked into my waistband. “You look like you want to say something.”
We’d finally managed to get up to the loft bedroom, after several aborted attempts to climb up—aborted due to the fact that we just couldn’t keep our hands off each other. At one point, I’d nearly fallen off the ladder entirely. Now that we were up here, we were keeping well away from the railings as we finally pulled each other’s clothes off.
“Happy New Year,” I told him, my face half-muffled in his jacket.
He grabbed it from me, balled it up, and threw it away with a smile. And then he continued his work, fiddling with the button on my pants. “Didn’t we do that already?”
“I didn’t say it before.”
“Couldn’t say it, maybe. Your mouth was full of my tongue.”
For the first time with Damon, I was shy. My smile felt crooked on my face as I nodded. “No complaints. But still. Happy New Year…sir.”
He tugged me close by my waistband, a hard yank that made me puff in surprise as I collided into him. “Let’s make it a good one,” he murmured. And he kissed me again, less tongue, more tease, while his fingers worked open my fly.
My own hands were busy pulling his shirt out of his pants, running up his abs, his chest, too impatient to unbutton anything. I was already hard for him and when I finally got busy with his zipper, I could feel that he was, too.
He gave an appreciative hum as I cupped him over his clothes, squeezing lightly, and kissed me just under my ear. “Are you going to be a good boy for me, Blakely?”
“No, sir. I definitely am not.”
He nipped the side of my neck, gentle but definite. There would be a mark there later.
“Good,” he growled, and shoved my pants down to my knees.
“Damon,” I gasp out. “Sir. Can we…”
“Slow down?” he guessed, and immediately his frantic grabbing became soft caresses. They only made me harder.
“No,” I murmured against his mouth. “Go raw.” His lips stilled against mine as perfectly as if he’d turned into stone. “We don’t have to,” I added quickly. “I just thought—”
We’d thrown around the idea before. Both of us were on PrEP, and he’d arrived at Northlake with his test results, like a sexy show-and-tell that first day. I’d waved mine back at him, chuckling. So far we hadn’t abandoned condoms. But tonight…
“Yes.”
I’d never heard a man sound so decisive, but I wanted to make sure. Absolutely sure. “Yes?”
“Blakely, if you asked me to fuck you while wearing a wig and singing Gilbert and Sullivan, I’d do it. Asking me to blast your butt raw? That’s been in my dreams since the day I’ve met you. It’s not just a ‘yes,’ it’s a ‘hell, yes.’”
It lit a fire in me, just the way he said it, so crude, so fucking hot. The idea of him spraying his mark inside me, getting deep in my gut and then letting it gush into me… My knees started to shake, I was so turned on.
“Come on, then,” I choked out, stumbling toward the bed.
We tangled together on the bed, and I worked down his body, eagerly lapping up the salt of his skin as I made my way to his cock, thick and flushed red, hot against my chin as I traced my tongue around his ridge, just to hear him moan. I jacked him softly as I nosed into his bush, inhaling his musk long and deep.
He got up on his elbow to watch me, reaching down to thread one hand through my hair. “Suck it.”
I smiled up his body, my eyes taking in the dips and curves of his abs, the broad, furry chest that I loved to lay my face against after we were done. “You want me to suck it, sir?” I purred.
“You heard me.”
