“Nothing.” I take a shallow breath. “I never feel great after this kind of stuff. Perks of growing up how I did.”
He doesn’t reply straight away, but he holds me tighter. The bundle in my stomach is still present, but it shrinks.
“I don’t know what to say to make it better, but there’s a reason why we get horny and have sex and why it feels so good.” He gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “It’s because it’s natural. Some people don’t crave it, but if you do? There’s nothing wrong with that.”
Yeah, the last half hour solidified that I’m firmly in the “craves it” camp.
“I know there's nothing objectively wrong with sex,” I reply. “But emotionally, I don't know. It's weird—I had to hide the fact that I eventhoughtabout sex for so long, and I can’t just turn that off now that I’m free from my parents.”
“And that's okay. I can't relate to what you're going through, but I'm here for you whenever you need me.”
My face flushes as I interpret Ian's overwhelming kindness in a completely different, dirtier way. I'm a mess, but embarrassment beats shame any day of the week.
“Feeling better?” he asks.
“Yeah, actually. I don’t think I’ve recovered this quickly before, after, you know.”
“Coming?” Ian supplies.
I snort. “Yeah. After coming. It’s getting better over time as I’ve let myself do more, uh, sexual things.”
“Is that so?” He wiggles his eyebrows. “So you’re saying lots andlotsof exposure therapy helps, right?”
Rolling my eyes, I swat him across the chest, even though that little injection of humor was what I needed.
“Too soon?” he asks.
“No, you’re fine. Iwasn’tsaying that, but I won’t say no to more of this.”
“Lucky for you, I love giving head.” He squeezes my shoulder. “Especially when the guy moans the way you do. It's fuckinghot.”
Heat creeps up my neck, even though Ian’s generosity seriously benefits me. I press harder against his body, and he reaches behind the couch to drag the folded covers over us. The sheer warmth seeps right to my core, making me yawn. He simply tightens hisarm and gives my back a gentle scratch, saying nothing but communicating pure care. It’s impossible not to feel tired when I feel so safe.
“Is it rude to fall asleep after sex?” I ask through a yawn.
Ian snickers. “No, it isn’t. Not at all. Snooze away, hot stuff.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
IAN
My left forearm is raw and red.
I'm pinching myself just in case I'm dreaming—the last twenty-four hours have set my emotional cravings on fire and hit every single one of my horny buttons a hundred times over.
Making out with Callum. Rolling around in bed with him. Cuddling him. Making out with him some more. Stripping him down to nothing. Getting my hands on his big, strong body. Wrapping my mouth around his cock.
God, that fucking cock.
That pretty, reactive, perfect cock that'swell proportioned to Callum’s…everything else. I got to suck it exactlyonce, and I already drool like a dog staring at a biscuit whenever I so much as think about it swinging around in his soft black sweatpants. Or how it looks outside those sweatpants as I'm about to blow him.
Aaand I'm hard again.
Not like getting hard is hard when Callum is built for sex and also built for ticking all of my boxes.
He's snoozing next to me on the couch-bed, still shirtless and still sexier than my brain can keep up with. I can't help but reach out and trace my fingers across his pecs, and his mouth twitches into a sleepy grin at the touch, all soft and peaceful.
He’s so ridiculously cute all the time, but when he’s asleep? Oh, man, he’s more adorable than a farm full of puppies, with his tiny smile and twitching eyes and cheekbones and everything else that makes him a total show-stopping dreamboat of a man.
