“Do you want to?” he says.
I close my eyes. “Mmm.”
“That’s not an answer.”
A huff of a laugh escapes me. He’s right, though.
My hand finds my sensitive cock, still hard and ready, and now leaking precum. The moment I touch myself, my whole body jerks, and I hiss. “Fuck. Yeah. Yeah, I want to come.”
“Good,” he says. His hand slides down to my shoulder. “Sit up so I can watch.”
I do as he says, pushing myself up off him. I rest my free hand on his thigh and kneel, leaning over him slightly as I start stroking myself. It’s perfect—the buildup of pleasure and heat and pressure, ready to burst as I keep working myself toward that edge. His hand covers mine on his leg, and I groan and close my eyes again.
I’m so fucking close now.
“Can I come on you?” My voice is rough, and the words sound stilted, but Nico answers immediately with what seems like a greedyhell, yes, and that’s all the permission I need.
I stroke myself just another couple of times, and then I’m there, falling apart over him. I come hard and fast, everything bright and hot and buzzing as my release shoots out onto his stomach.
I’m not sure if I manage to keep my voice down, but I don’t really care much at this point. As the last pulse throbs through me, I fall forward, breathing hard, barely managing to catch myself with one hand. “God. God, wow.”
Nico laughs quietly, and his hand comes up to rub along my forearm. “That good, huh?”
I can only nod this time. My heart’s thrumming in my chest, and I’m trembling slightly, as though my body’s weak from the exertion. Weak but yet completely, utterly, totally sated. And happy.
“God,” I say again. I want to kiss him, and I think he wants the same, because his hands—both of them this time—reach upto frame my face.
His thumbs brush along my cheeks, and he tugs me forward. “Come up here and kiss me,” he begs.
I lift my eyes to his, and a warm rush hits me.
God, I love him so much.
And his eyes, his expression, how he’s looking at me right now—I think... I think he loves me, too. And more than that... I think he’s happy.
I move, pushing myself over and up along his side, and then I touch his cheek and lower my mouth to his. I kiss him sweetly, tenderly, and with every bit of love I’ve got for him. And my heart nearly bursts with joy as he kisses me back the same way.
Wecleanup,andNico puts his briefs back on but forgoes his shirt, which is just fine with me, especially when he frowns and tugsmyshirt off as well, complaining that it’s not fair if he doesn’t get to see me too. I don’t argue—I just laugh and gather him up in my arms and kiss his forehead, and I hold him as he closes his eyes with a deep, contented sigh.
He’s asleep within a few minutes, but I lie there awake, listening to the birds chirping outside and letting myself be distracted by thoughts of the future.
Ourfuture. Together. In California.
Far, far away from—
I screw my eyes shut, but not before they dart to his left shoulder and see the hint of redness and swelling I hadn’t let myself notice earlier.
Had Patrick hurt him?
The thought makes my stomach churn and my blood run hot,and I take a slow breath to keep myself from tensing up too much. Then I turn and press my lips into his hair.
“Never again,” I murmur against him.
I’ll never let that asshole touch him again.
I should have been there on Friday; I shouldn’t have been in Omaha. This shouldn’t have happened.
I know I’m jumping to conclusions and that none of this is my fault, but given everything, it doesn’t seem like too much of a stretch. It could also explain why he doesn’t have a car anymore and why there’s a large stack of twenty-dollar bills on my nightstand. And it would explain, almost too well, why he reacted like he did to my touch on Saturday morning—why he flinched away from me, why he had such a difficult time letting me hold him.
