So warm. He’s so fucking warm.
A couple of inches lower and my cock would fit right inside him like this. His ass is pressing down just above my groin. He could sink down slowly onto my dick, gripping tight around me as I held his hips…
Don’t think about that.
Looking up at his eyes doesn’t help.
His dark rows of lashes flick down then up. It should be illegal for someone so infuriating to have eyes that soulful, because he uses them to make me fucking crazy and itworks.The way he’s looking at me like he’s already planning to destroy me is making my balls ache.
“You want me to pretend to be your boyfriend?Me?” he murmurs down at me.
I swallow hard. “Yes.”
His warm, spiced scent fills my nostrils and my chest feels tight as I pull in a shallow breath.
I open my hands and put them on the back of his hips, holding him there for a second. But the warmth radiating from beneath his shirt starts to make me think about fucking him again, so I take my hands away, not knowing where to put them.
My lungs feel like they’re too big for my goddamn chest.
I’m caught between two equally torturous decisions.
Letting him stay on top of me like this feels like letting him win…
But I don’t want to push him away. Not yet.
So much.
So much closeness.
So sudden?—
“Can’t imagine why you’d want to fake it withme, Oliver.” His low voice goes straight to my dick, just like everything else about him.
He leans over.
He’s wearing the simple silver necklace with a dragonfly charm that I’ve seen in all his videos, and the charm hangs down and lands on my chest as he hovers above me.
The cold metal quickly warms from the heat of my skin, and I feel the small weight of it with each breath I take.
He trails his fingertips along my chest, teasing me as he lightly brushes over my nipple. My cock responds again and I hate myself for it. I’ve spent far too long without being touched.
Way too long.
My entire life.
For as long as I can remember, every touch,everylittlepassing hug or hand on my shoulder has felt like a beacon from some world I’ve never gotten to be a part of.
No one has ever known how much I crave it.
It feels like I’ve been screaming it out inside every moment since the day I knew what sex was.
Let me touch someone.
Or please, God, let someone touch me.
As if on cue, he runs his fingertips over my chest, tracing his fingers between the three biggest freckles that lead downward to my stomach. My breath hitches as Niko’s fingertips coax goosebumps from my skin, and if I don’t find release soon I’m liable to start sobbing or screaming my goddamn head off.
I’m certain he’s going to revoke his touch soon.
