Probably not.
But I’m twisting and squirming and working hard to get friction with his lower half and, try as I might, it’s too damn far. I reach forward to tug at his shirt.
He ignores me as he descends into sucking and biting, with needy grunts that seem so different from the man I’d thought he was, it’s like I’ve stepped into a new reality. Behind a mirror, looking outward. The same scene, but reversed. Not an uptight asshole, but a sensitive man in pain. A man who’s never learned to love or be loved. A man carrying so much guilt on his shoulders that he’s left room for nothing else.
But then I think of how he’d carried my weight on his shoulders earlier and a shudder of want runs through me. I force myself out of my own cloud of arousal and reach for his jeans. The top button’s easy to pry open, but with his head bent over my breasts, I can’t reach the zipper. I try to nudge him away with an impatient “My turn.”
“No. First, I need…”
What? What does he need? Because I need his mouth and his hands and his cock and I need them fast and hard. I need to soak up every bit of him with my eyes. This slow worship thing is amazing, but we’ve spent the last three hours cooped up in an elevator, not daring, not doing, and now I want it all.
“Take it off,” I demand, bossier than I intend. “God, please just do it. I’m dying, Colin. I feel—”
He bites me and I yelp as, with a rough little laugh, he steps back and pulls his henley off, then the T-shirt underneath.
I go stock still at the sight of him. I was already excited, already wet and so into this man, but seeing him like this—solid and ready and gorgeous—has stalled me out.
How could I have forgotten how beautiful he is? Just this morning, I had this same view—minus one rather significant detail—but it’s like I’m seeing him all over again. And, in a way, I guess I am.
I love that he’s not lean and carved out like some of the guys I’ve been with, but thick, bulky, solid. He looks strong and capable. He pinches my nipples, my eyes slide down, and my jaw drops. A primal thrill runs through me, part excitement, part fear.
The man’s cock ishuge.
I know this because the fat, glossy crown is visible just below his belly button, a single drop of fluid pearled at the tip. And it’s not just long, it’s thick and plump and what I see of it is absolutely gorgeous. “Holy crap, Colin.”
He steps away and glances down at himself, his usually stern face flushed and tight and possibly a tiny bit worried. “What. You alri’?” That last word emerges with a little roll of the R. It must be a Welsh thing. I love it. And I’ll definitely pay more attention to it when I can rip my gaze from his dick. “Is it my cock?” How does he sound actually worried?
I mean, he maybe has reason to be. I’ve got no idea how to deal with a monster like that. “It’s big,” I admit, staring as the bead swells and rolls down the side, just begging to be lapped up with my tongue. “But I’m willing to try.”
“Fuck. My sweet, dirty girl”
“Also just realized that I’m not the only one who’s been going commando.”
“Told you I don’t wear pants.”
Right. No pants. I look at him now with a sort of awe that, from that first awful exchange, we’ve somehow made it to this point.
His face breaks into a grin and all those feelings I had earlier in the safety of the dark come rocketing back, only they’re not dreamlike and weirdly half drunk now, they’re a solid, sober hit to the sternum.
I don’t know him that well, but I… God, I feel so much for him. Lust, yeah, a hundred times yes, and so much more than that.
“You’re scaring me, love. What is it?”
“I like you,” I tell him, the words whispered and worried. “A lot.”
He nods, watching me closely, face serious. “I like you, too.”
“It’s…”
“Scary as fuck.”
A laugh bursts out of me. “Yeah. So scary.”
“That’s all right, baby.” His expression goes solemn and earnest as he comes in and puts a hand to my face. “It’ll only hurt a little going in.”
I snort-laugh and smack his arm and he grins and leans in and kisses me again and, this time, Iknowhe likes me. And I like him. And we want each other. There’s safety in all of that. Need, too, but not the same edgy thing we’d experienced before.
Sharing a laugh will do that, I guess. Telling the truth, too.
