I forget to look for lights in the distance as his pace builds, the strokes lengthening. I close my eyes and just feel. My world disintegrates until only the bubble of us exists. For these stolen moments, everything I know can be summarized as one word: Pete.
The chance of getting caught raises the stakes, but the prick of his teeth in the flesh of my shoulder makes me forget to care. I am where I belong, the breeze blowing his faint cologne to me, while I reach to hold him tighter to me. These stolen moments are necessarily brief, and I need to remember all of it.
He huffs next to my ear. “I’ve fucking missed you.”
I’m panting and moaning, each thrust pushes a groan out of me. I don’t respond. I just take him and close my eyes, fantasizing about his lips on mine even as he presses his mouth to my shoulder.
“Where should I come, Lachlan? I know where you like it best, but I’m going to aim for the edge line of the road if I don’t hear it from you.”
He’s stroking me now, a bit faster each time, but teasing me with a loose grip that won’t push me over. I’d bitch but I never have to worry that he will use me and leave me hanging. He fucks like a pirate cursed to never get off without his partner finding intense satisfaction first.
He practically growls, “Give me the words.”
I’m lost. My unrelenting need to take him inside me and hold him there is my only rational thought. I have to have this, consequences be damned. I stop resisting, not sure if I ever actually started.
“Inside me, Pete. Always fucking inside me.”
“Tell me you love me, Lachlan.”
“No.” I try to say it fast, but it comes out a long slow groan. His hand slows.
No. Not again. His hand slows even more, then stops. Fucking hell.
He pulls me back up against him, almost standing with his arm slung across my chest like a steel band, holding me in place, impaled on him.
“Do you want it faster, Lachlan?”
He pushes into me hard, just once, and stays buried. I let out a sound that is close to a whine.
“My hand and my cock go the same speed. Tell me and I’ll go faster. Tell me you’ve missed this as much as I do. Tell me and I’ll give you what you need.”
“No.”
He removes his hand from my cock, slides it across my hip, over my rib cage, until he finds my nipple and starts to pinch and roll it, then he digs his fingernail into it while I moan.
“Tell me the truth.” He pulls back until just the head of his cock is inside me and gives me no more than that, almost pulling all the way out, my pucker snagging on the rim. My knees areweak, and I’m spineless, being held in place by his strength because I have none.
“I fucking love this.” I do.
“That’s not what I want to hear from your sexy mouth, Lachlan.”
“I love your cock, Pete.” I do.
“I know you do, but you won’t come until you tell me.”
“I’ve missed you.” I fucking did. I get a half thrust when I say that, but it isn’t satisfying, it’s not what I need.
“I’ve missed you, too, but we’re past that now. Tell me. Tell me or I’ll stop.” I’m barely able to speak and he starts to punctuate each word with a punishing thrust. “Give. Me. The. Words. Lachlan.” Then he is still again.
He slides his hand back down to my cock, sweeping up a bit of moisture clinging to the tip and smearing it over my weeping head.
“Please, Pete, please?”
“Say it.” His voice is a low rumble, saturated with desire. He rubs his stubble into the tender flesh of my neck again and I have a fleeting thought of the beard burn I might have in the morning, then his teeth and his cock and his hand on my shaft make me forget.
“You’re doing so good, you’re taking my cock so goddamn good,” he says, hot huffs of breath and stubble brush my neck. “Don’t you want to come? I need the words, Lachlan.”
He starts again, stroking me faster, and just when I am about to lose control and come all over the shiny paint, he slows then stops.
