His head pulled away, lifting his chiseled jawline until he looked down his nose at me. “Please don’t tell me you’re one of those toxic macho assholes who think men can’t be pretty.”
No, but I worked with guys who were. He probably did as well. “Not at all, I’ve just…” I paused, clearing my throat to give myself a moment to shake the trauma of the past, “never been called pretty by anyone who didn’t mean it as an insult.”
He nodded, his eyes softening. “Then let me be the first. You’re a very pretty man. Fucking breathtaking, actually.”
Heat bloomed on my face under his gaze. Looking up at him through my lashes, I catalog his own pretty features.
“You’re even prettier when you blush. Do you turn pink when you’re fucked? I bet you do. I bet it’s more peach than pink with the tan you’re rocking. Goddamn, I wanna see that.”
Prior to those words, I wouldn’t have been able to pinpoint where he was from other than being American, but that last sentence gave him away. The Boston accent was unmistakable.
The continued eye-fucking got to me, and I growled, “You gonna keep talking or are you gonna make good on all the promises behind the pretty words dripping from your mouth like honey?”
He smirked, rolling his tongue over his lower lip, licking it first before dragging it between his teeth, biting it. “My place?”
“Yours? What about mine?”
If the mental facepalm I gave myself were real, I’d have a bruise blossoming over my face from the force of the smack. What was it about this man that made me fucking stupid? Myplace was out. I lived on base. Of course, he didn’t know that. And I didn’t want him to know that. I didn’t need or want him to know anything about me. It was too fucking risky. All I wanted from him was a good, hard fuck so I could deploy without feeling like I was going to crawl out of my fucking skin.
“Yet another thing I’d bet my career on.”
“What’s that?”
“That you live on base. Which makes taking a hookup home impossible, given…”
His accuracy blew my mind. I tried not to react. At any other moment in time, I had a poker face, but not with him. I’d just fucking met the man, and it felt as if he could see inside my damn head. As if he had secret knowledge of all my thoughts. Of my life. My…
“Quit worrying your pretty little head. I can’t read your mind. Now, do you want to drink and dance or do you want to fuck?”
“Can’t I have both?”
He laughed, throwing his head back and exposing the long lines of his slender neck. Pulsing veins stood out among the tendons, ligaments, and muscles. I wanted to bury my face in it.
“You’re going to be trouble,” he said, his voice almost a purr.
Lifting my chin and licking my lips, I whispered, “Only the best kind.”
A groan—his or mine—filled the space between us. What space remained.
“Of that I’ve no doubt,” he whispered, leaning into me, his breath dancing over my face, laced with spearmint gum and something fruity.
Filling my lungs, I closed the distance, tired of waiting for him to take the lead. My lips crashed into his, looking to take control, but the man had it in a chokehold. He pushed me against the brick wall; my back smacked against it. His thighwedged between mine, pressing against my cock as he tongue-fucked my mouth.
Two years. Two years since anything touched my dick other than my clothes or hand. If we didn’t get somewhere private soon, and I didn’t give a fuck if it was the rental, I was gonna come in my damn pants.
Wrenching my mouth from his, I asked, “Your place? Is it close?”
“Yeah.” The words rumbled against my cheek as his mouth traveled across my face to my jawline, where he nipped and sucked. “I rode with someone.”
“I have a car.”
“Let’s go. The dick throbbing in your pants feels promising.”
I slid from between him and the wall, my fingers lacing with his as I walked backwards to where I left the car. I’d wanted to party. I wanted to dance and drink and grind against hard body after hard body, but…this…this was better. Now I had all night to lose myself in a gorgeous man.
My only concern was the comment about my dick being promising. I didn’t mind topping. I had my moments when I wanted to pound my dick into some guy’s hole, but it wasn’t my favorite.
“You having second thoughts?” the guy asked.
