“Then does it matter?”
“I—I already came between you and Billy once. I don’t want to do that again.”
I press my finger over his lips. “I already told you. My relationship with Billy has been damaged for a long time, and it wasneveryour fault.”
“It feels like it was.”
“I know. I’m sorry. But believe me. Itwasn’tyour fault.” But his thinking that it was ismyfault. Setting the record straight would hurt him even more.
“We’re only just becoming friends again.”
“Is that all you want?” I’m itching to explore his throat with my lips, but I don’t. It wouldn’t be fair.
He whimpers. “No.”
“Nor do I.” I nudge his chin up, so I can kiss his throat. He shaves so smoothly. I always have a stubborn patch of dark stubble on my chin that I can never get rid of.
He twists his hands into my T-shirt. “Jimmy.”
“What do you want?”
“You.”
I sit upright and stare into his eyes. “Do you want to move this party to my room?”
“Yes.”
10
FLYNN
We stumble into Jimmy’s room and kiss again. His hands are all over mine. Mine are all over him. I love the contrast between the shaved bottom of his hair and the longer top, making it soft and fuzzy against my palm, yet long enough to tangle my fingers through. And the way he kisses me. Oh, fuck, it’s fantastic. He knows how to make my spine tingle and my toes curl. How deep to slip his tongue into my mouth, when to apply more pressure with his lips, when to nip mine, or suck my tongue.
A fire is burning bright within me, and I don’t want to put it out. Every part of me is begging to be allowed to be with him. To lower my guard. To go with the flow. He’s already shut down my half-hearted attempt to hit the brakes, and I let him. I wanted him to sweep away my worries like fallen leaves on a crisp, autumn day. But if we do this, I can’t hide behind alcohol. We’re stone cold sober, yet Iwant him, and all it took to woo me was an excellent massage.
No. It was more than that. It was the way he took care of me, without hesitation, the moment he realised I was in pain. It didn’t matter that the evening should have been about celebrating him and the end of his exams. He put me first and turned me into a gooey, gagging-for-him mess.
We fall onto the bed, him half on top of me. Still kissing. I’m not sure either of us can stop kissing. Not that I want to. He pushes my T-shirt up and runs his hands over my abs and then up and over my chest, rubbing his palms over my nipples, which turns them into hard, aching pebbles. I gasp and tear my lips from his long enough to tip my head back and push my chest against his hand. I’m kissing him again, my lips falling back into rhythm with his.
I slip my hands beneath his T-shirt and stroke his back, caressing his spine, feeling the flex and pull of his muscles as he lavishes me with attention. He’s so strong. His muscles are like steel covered in smooth silk. I can’t get enough of touching him. I hug him to me, so his body is pressed against mine. His jeans do nothing to mask the hard thickness of his erection, which only makes me want him more. I’m desperate for him.
He rocks his pelvis against mine. I groan into his mouth. My heartbeat pulses in my ears. My blood rushes south, engorging my cock. I want out of my jeans, now, but I’m incapable of moving my handsfrom his back or vocalising my desperate need. He must want the same thing, because he’s undoing the stiff button of my jeans and tugging the zipper down. I sigh with relief. He undoes his jeans, pulls his cock free, the head, wet with pre-cum, grazing my skin. He puts his hand into my pants and frees my cock. He wraps his large, strong hand around our lengths and strokes up and down.
I cling to him, my fingertips digging into his shoulders. Our kissing is so fierce now. I’m thrusting into his hand, rubbing my cock against his. He’s doing the same. It’s desperate and needy and not quite what I want, but I’m far too into it to protest, because his hand and his cock feel amazing, and I’m on the brink of coming, and isn’t that why we’re here, on his bed? To come. To come together.
“Jimmy!”
He swallows my cry with his mouth. He moves his hand fast, providing a level of friction that’s almost too much to bear. I’m coming. I’m coming! And so is he. Warm cum splatters us. Our chests are heaving.
He releases our cocks, and strokes my cheek. “Not quite what I was intending. Sorry.”
I lift my brows. “Sorry? Why are you apologising? That was so good.” I sigh and flop my arm above my head.
“I got carried away.”
“Me too.”
He nuzzles my mouth and then slips his tongue inside it. He moves down my body, licking the cum offmy skin, exposed by my T-shirt being pushed up around my upper chest. Eyes wide, I can do nothing but prop myself on my elbows and watch him. He moves his tongue slowly, making content noises as though he’senjoyingit. Is he?
