He takes a stumbling step forward. For a second, I think he’s going to drop to his knees right there in the hall, but instead he pulls me forward, fingers in my belt loops, until our mouths are a fraction of an inch apart.
“Want you,” he says. “Want to fuck.”
I kiss him, my brain going from blank to a panicky stretched feeling. His hands are on my waistband, making quick work of the button and fly. When his fingers graze the tip of my cock, helpfully already peeking over the elastic of my boxer briefs, I gasp and jump.
“What’s wrong?” Nash says.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck. This worked last time. Why am I so jumpy now?
Maybe because last time he had his mouth on my dick before I had time to overthink everything?
But he’s here. He came to my house, my turf. Nash got naked without questioning my words. And now he’s watching me with impatient silver-dark eyes, and if I don’t get my shit together, I’m going to fuck this up.
“Do... Do you bottom?” I say, ignoring the false start.
His lip curls up in a way that has my whole body going hot.
“Always.” The word is a promise and a threat, and it takes all my fear away with it, blowing down the hall with the hum of the air conditioner.
My hips roll on their own as I slide my hand inside my underwear, stroking, watching as Nash does the same.
“You want me.” I make it a statement, and the stretchy feeling in my head tightens and rolls over me, gravitating to where my hand is working my cock.
His nostrils flare. “Fuck yes.”
I shape the words carefully. “Want me to fuck you.”
“Brady, did we have a miscommunication somewhere? I thought I was here for—”
“Bedroom,” I say quickly and jut my chin over Nash’s shoulder. “Down the hall. Get on the bed.”
He looks down the hall, then back at me. Because I have not actually planned any of this, the lights are all out, and my curtains are pulled tight, making the bedroom like a tomb. The smart thing would be to hurry ahead and turn some lights on, but I press the soles of my feet into the hardwood and wait.
Nash gives a soft laugh. He definitely knows I’m faking this for everything I’m worth, but he turns and strolls down my hall, letting me stare at the perfect round swell of his ass as he slowly disappears into shadow.
I only move when I hear the creak of the mattress, and then I hustle forward so fast I bang my big toe off the baseboard as I make the turn for the hall. I open my mouth in a wordless shout but keep moving forward.
Nash is sitting on the edge of the bed, and I curse myself for not telling him to get on his knees and face away from me so he can’t see the way the wheels are turning in my head.
I slept with this other guy, a few times. He didn’t identify any particular kinks on his profile, but he was bossy enough I’m pretty sure he was some kind of Dom slumming it among the normies. He had this tone in his voice as he told me to suck him off that still makes my dick drool.
And Nash certainly seemed down with my bossier side in his office. No reason it won’t work again.
I take a deep breath, concentrating on filling my chest, and say, “Spread your legs.”
Nash cocks an eyebrow, but he leans back, bracing on his elbows, and spreads his knees apart. I lean to the side and turn on the bedside lamp before I drop to the floor between his legs. As I run my palms over his thighs, he sighs, and I can feel him relax, now that we’re touching again.
My tongue on his tip makes him hiss, and he grips himself tight. “I thought we were fucking.”
I give him a glare. “We will.”
“Brady.”
I flick the inside of his thigh with my thumb and index finger, and he yelps. “Who’s in charge here?” I ask.
He rubs the skin where I touched him but lets go of his cock. “You are.”
“Yes. When we’re at work, we can do things your way.” I lick him again, tasting the drop of clean, salty pre-come that drips from him. “I like your way, anyway. You on your knees with my dick in your mouth. You liked that, didn’t you?”
