Then Jodi wriggled backward, pressing his warm body against Rupert’s, and reached for Rupert’s arms, tugging them around him. He kissed Rupert’s palm and let out a sleepy sigh. “I’m not obsessed with sex, Rupe, I promise. I just really fucking love you.”
Nineteen
Jodi writhed beneath Rupert, revelling in the weight of the body pinning him down. Rupert kissed him roughly and pulled at his T-shirt. “Off.”
Breathless, Jodi raised his arms. Rupert yanked the offending shirt over Jodi’s head and tossed it away. “Up. Turn around. Hands on the headboard.”
Jodi obeyed with a healthy shot of nerves. In the last week, being intimate with Rupert had proved as natural as breathing, but with no memory of the sex life they’d shared before the accident, Jodi had often felt exposed and laid bare by his ignorance. Ignorance that was equal parts embarrassing andhotas hell as they learned—relearned—how to pleasure each other: the handjobs, the blowjobs. The grinding together until Jodi was sure he’d combust. Somehow, Jodi knew they’d barely scratched the surface.
Cool air hit his back. He shivered and dropped his head. Rupert soothed him with warm hands, rubbing circles into the base of his spine. “Relax.”
Jodi tried, then gave up. He didn’t want to relax, because then he might fall asleep. And he didn’t want to sleep. He wanted to absorb Rupert’s every touch and commit them to his sketchy memory in permanent ink. “What are you going to do to me?”
“Do you really want me to tell you?”
“No.” Jodi already had a pretty good idea what Rupert had in mind. He remembered rimming from his relationship with Sophie—her gentle tongue and her soft skin against his. He’d loved it, and the thought of Rupert doing that to him— “Fuck!”
Rupert’s tongue was far from gentle, and the scruff of his stubble scratched Jodi’s thighs in just the right way, taking him to that dangerous precipice between pleasure and pain.
Jodi chose pain, and then pleasure, losing himself to the toe-curling sweep of Rupert’s tongue. Dear God, it was nothing like he remembered with Sophie. This wasn’t playful and naughty—a drunken fumble they wouldn’t talk about in the morning. Thiswasthe morning. Rupert meant this, and Jodi could hardly bear it.
Too soon, Rupert pulled away and kissed a path up Jodi’s back, stopping at his neck where he sunk his teeth in, biting down until Jodi wriggled free and threw himself at Rupert, sending them both tumbling to the mattress, pillows scattering onto the floor. “That was amazing.”
“Yeah?” Rupert grinned. “I like it too, both ways. Drives me up the feckin’ wall when you do it to me.”
Up the wall. Yup, that made sense. “I couldn’t come from it, but that’s what makes it so hot. It’s like torture.”
“The best kind,” Rupert said. “It’s good for, um, prep too.”
“Prep?”
Rupert smirked.
“Oh.” Jodi pictured the lube still hidden away in the drawer. “You mean for fucking?”
“Aye. I’m no expert on how it feels to bottom, but you’ve told me before that a little, er, rimming action gets you to just the right point between relaxed and—”
“Gagging for it?”
Rupert snorted. “Something like that.”
Jodi bit his lip. The old him hadn’t been wrong, but alongside the thrill of anticipation, and a desperate yearning for Rupert he could hardly contain, he was still fucking terrified. Rupert’s tongue waslush, but his dick? Jesus. How was it even possible?
The rational side of him knew exactly how it was possible, but that didn’t stop his stomach flipping as he imagined how it would feel to have Rupert sliding inside him, stretching him, fucking him. How it wasgoingto feel when it happened.
Which wasn’t today. Jodi wanted Rupert to fuck him as much as he wanted just about anything, but he didn’t quite have the balls yet. Besides, there was something else he had to do first. Something he’d been dreaming about since his attraction to Rupert had shown its hand. Something he knew was going to be the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, or at least, could remember seeing.
He sat up and leaned back, eyeing Rupert’s cock. He’d yet to put his hands or mouth on it, because somehow Rupert had managed to make their every sexual encounter about Jodi: about teaching him to enjoy Rupert’s touch again, slowly, carefully, when Jodi let him and didn’t come like a train in five seconds flat, which had happened more times in the last week than Jodi cared to admit.
Rupert squeezed Jodi’s thighs. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking about how I can make you come.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know. I want to. Do you want me to?”
“Now there’s a question.” With the early-morning sun filtering through the gap in the curtains, Rupert’s soft smile was dazzling. “Do you really not know the answer?”
