“I was going to ask how you like it, but if you need proof that we were made for each other, I’m not going to ask. I’m going to tell you what I’m going to do instead.”
“I’m listening.”
“I’m going to stretch you open—and probably enjoy myself a little since I’ve been thinking about this sexy hole since you showed it to me two days ago as I took pictures of it.”
I shiver. Fuck. I forgot about the camera entirely, even though he never hid that he was taking photos. That’s what I was there for, after all, right? Mention of them makes my heart pound rapidly for a second. How slutty do I look in them? I’m going to be mortified, aren’t I?
“Then I’m going to stick my dick in you and fuck you until the fireworks begin. I want you to be on my cock when the clock strikes midnight.”
His hand grips a fistful of my hair, and he forces my eyes to his. “Think you can handle that?”
I know what time it was when I left Tomy at Makara and headed to Ceto, where Dylan’s studio is. It was barely past one. That means the latest it could be is probably three.
“Eight hours?” I ask, hearing how rough my voice is. As if he’s already been fucking me. “I’m not doubting your stamina, but… really?”
“Okay, I’ll give you a break halfway through.”
I try to hide my smirk. Can he see the lust in my eyes like I feel it’s shining out like a beacon? “Let’s see what happens.”
He releases me and does exactly as he says. I’m sure he’s stretching my hole as he preps me, but it feels like he’s toying with me instead. Rubbing my walls, barely stroking my prostate. Making my entire body shake with anticipation.
When he finally begins working his dick into me, I can’t help but think how utterly perfect his dick is. Theexactsize I crave—big enough to hit literally everything but not so big that I think I’m going to be torn apart.
Just as he was in the studio, moving me around like a puppet, so does he now. It isn’t until I’m writhing under him that Irealize he moves me not to feed his own pleasure but to fuel mine. Every single position is for me. To make me feel good.
We have a few breaks in the eight hours, but just as he said he’d do, he’s fucking me like a piston while I fill the room with moans when fireworks light up the room like a kaleidoscope.
Chapter Nine
DYLAN
My eyes flickerto the thermometer. One-sixty-two or so. Not quite there. I turn my attention back to the bacon and eggs in the pan.
I can feel Larson’s eyes on me. He’s sitting at the counter behind me. Watching me. Wearing nothing but his underwear. God, I could look at him all day. He’s just breathtaking. I can’t take a proper breath when he’s around.
I’ve never made a New Year’s resolution. Maybe when I was a kid, but not with adult level seriousness. Yet, this morning as I lay in bed beside Larson with his head on my chest and his big hand on my hip while he slept, I found myself thinking,this year, I need to keep this man.
A glance at the thermometer says it’s time for milk. The pan contents are fine, so I slide down the counter and reach for the milk. Just a little. Perfect. Next one. Yep. And there we go. Now the temperature is exactly one-fifty.
With a pleased smile, I pick up one mug and bring it to Larson. “Best tea you’ll ever drink,” I tell him.
He looks in the cup and then smiles when he meets my eyes. “I’m not sure I’ve had a cup of tea before, so even if it’s the worst, it’ll also be the best.”
I roll my eyes but can’t contain my smile. While I know I need to go back to the food, I can’t move from this spot until he takes a sip. I watch intently as he brings the cup to his lips and takes a tentative swallow.
“You’ve hit the sweet spot in temp,” he notes.
There’s no containing my grin. See? This is why I’m so particular. It’s hot, but not so hot that you burn yourself. Not so hot that you can’t taste the flavor.
“It’s good,” Larson says.
Even if he’s lying, I’ll take it. Turning back to the stove, I stop on the way by and press the lever down on the toaster. The pan sizzles when I flip the eggs. Finished. Great. I turn the burner off and grab a couple of plates. Two eggs and three bacon for Larson. One each for me.
I quickly wash the pan. The toaster pops up just as I set the pan back on the stove to dry. A slight coating of butter, and I place two slices on the plate for Larson before sliding him his plate. The half slice I stuck in there is for me.
As I sit next to him with my plate, I examine his bulk. He looks enormous at my counter. His presence makes my house look small.
Larson takes a bite and gives a little ‘Mmm’ in response. “That’s all you’re going to eat?” he asks once he’s swallowed his mouthful.
