His gaze lingered on my face before heading down the length of my body. “Finn the firefighter, you are a thing of beauty.”
Guys had complimented me before, but I’d never felt this…exposed. Raw. And yet, weirdly cherished. Like he wasn’t just talking about my body, but about my soul. I could appreciate my physical attractiveness—I worked out hard to get this body. The body that had yet to let me down in the face of daunting fires, daring rescues, and darling lost kids at the Christmas Craft Fair.
Ulysses crawled up my body. When his face hovered just above mine, he whispered, “A kiss, I think.” Then his mouth descended on mine.
This was no light brushing of lips. This was his tongue demanding entrance and thrusting in. This was force and dominance. This was fucking hot.
He thrust his pelvis against mine, clearly seeking friction.
Our cocks brushed—his so erect and mine getting very interested.
He grasped my hair with one hand and tugged.
Hard.
A shiver ran through my entire body.
He pulled back from the kiss. “You ready?”
I angled my hips so our cocks brushed again.
“Eighteen,” he marveled.
I mock scowled.
He grinned. Then, slowly, he slid back down my body.
Every nerve ending sang as his soft skin brushed mine. My soul demanded just as much attention as he rolled the condom over his impressive length. I wanted to know more about this man. Highway Seven ran straight through downtown Mission City. Had he been coming from Hope and going to Vancouver, or was he from our small town? I’d never seen him before—and I was certain I would’ve remembered him—but I didn’t know the thousands of people in town. As close as we were as a community, I’d never meet all the inhabitants.
For that matter, was he out? I was. Had come out in high school—much to the consternation of some of the fundamentalist parents who didn’t want their sonsassociating with that boy. Right. Like half of them weren’t having sex under their parents' noses and, on occasion, getting a young woman pregnant. I never flaunted my sexuality, and I didn’t throw their hypocrisy back in their faces. I had the support of Mr. Clayton, the principal, as well as my guidance counselor. Oh, and Mom, of course. I hadn’t needed anyone else’s approval.
Ulysses coated his finger with lube.
I moved my now-erect cock and tingling balls out of the way.
He offered a cryptic smile as he sank his first finger in.
I reveled in the carnality of the action. Not all guys were interested in this. As often as not, I prepped myself. But when a guy offered? I always took him up on what I saw as generosity.
He breached me with a second finger.
My cock leaked a drop of precum.
He brushed my prostate.
Electricity again ran through my body. So easily, he knew which buttons to push. How to work me into a frenzy with such practiced movements.
Yeah, no virgin shrinking violet here.
Which had been my impression from the moment he’d raked me with his gaze over the rim of his sunglasses.
“Fuck, Finn, you’re so tight.” He scissored his fingers, working me open.
I arched an eyebrow. “Somehow I think you’ll manage.”
His grin lit something inside me. I’d never felt this comfortable, this quick with anyone. Usually, I kept at least a bit of my guard up.
He withdrew his hand, coated his cock with lube, and lined himself up. He held my gaze.
