He began to thrust, long strokes that stole the breath from my lungs. Each drag of his cock against my inner walls sent sparks of pleasure racing up my spine.
I arched into him, meeting him thrust for thrust as our bodies moved together. With my legs wrapped around his waist, I silently urged him to go deeper, needing to feel every inch of him inside me.
Stanton’s thrusts grew faster, more urgent, his breath coming in hot pants against my neck. “God, you feel incredible,” he groaned, mouthing at my collarbone. “So perfect, honey…”
I could only whimper in response, too lost in sensation to form coherent words. My nails raked down his back as I clung to him, desperate to be closer, to merge our bodies into one.
“Oh, honey, you feel incredible. So perfect, like you were made for me.”
I keened at his words, tightening my legs around his waist to draw him even deeper. “Yours,” I gasped, hardly recognizing my own voice. “I’m yours, Stanton.”
Something fierce flashed in his eyes at my declaration. He captured my lips in a searing kiss, pouring every ounce of passion and adoration into the slide of his mouth against mine. I surrendered to him completely, giving myself over to the pleasure, to the love that flowed between us.
The coil of heat in my belly wound tighter with each thrust, promising an explosive release. Stanton must have sensed how close I was because he snaked a hand between our sweat-slicked bodies to wrap around my neglected erection.
“Come for me, honey,” he urged, stroking me in time with his thrusts. “Let go, I’ve got you…”
His words were my undoing. With a choked sob, I came, spilling hot and sticky over Stanton’s fist. My vision whited out as ecstasy crashed over me in relentless waves. Distantly, I heard Stanton groan, felt his hips stutter as my body clenched around him.
A guttural sound tore from his throat, and with a final, deep thrust, he followed me over the edge. I felt the hot pulse of his cock inside me as he spilled himself, filling the condom.
For a long moment, we clung to each other, trembling and panting as the aftershocks of pleasure slowly ebbed. Stanton pressed his forehead to mine, his eyes closed as he struggled to catch his breath. I ran my hands up and down his back, marveling at the play of muscles beneath his sweat-dampened skin.
Stanton peppered my face with soft kisses, whispering words of praise and adoration into my skin. I’d never felt so cherished, so utterly consumed by love.
When Stanton finally slipped out of me, I whimpered at the loss. He disposed of the condom and grabbed a warm, dampcloth to clean us up, his touch unbearably gentle. Then he gathered me into his arms, tucking my head under his chin as he pulled the covers over our cooling bodies.
“That was…” Stanton trailed off, seemingly at a loss for words.
“Yeah,” I agreed, knowing exactly what he meant. “It was.”
Perfect. It had been perfect.
6
STANTON
It was Thursday again, and I’d looked forward to seeing Pascal all day. Even though we constantly texted now and sent each other voice messages or little videos, it wasn’t enough. I wanted the real thing.
Pascal and I had agreed not to tell the teens about our…connection yet. Hell, I wasn’t even sure what to call what was happening between us. Connection was the understatement of the century, dating felt too immature, and we weren’t ready for a more serious label yet…like boyfriends. Partners.
But god, I wanted him to be. More than I had ever wanted anyone, which kept surprising me. He was just so damn perfect…and so damn perfect for me.
I showed up early again, but as always, not early enough to beat Pascal. He was already there, arranging chairs in the meeting room. When he saw me, his face lit up with a smile that made my heart skip.
“Hey, you.” I pulled him into my arms, unable to resist stealing a quick kiss. “Need help with those chairs?”
“Mmm.” He melted against me, his hands sliding up my chest. “In a minute. I haven’t properly said hello yet.”
I chuckled and captured his lips again, this time slower, deeper. He tasted like mint and coffee, and his slim body fit perfectly against mine. When we finally broke apart, his cheeks were flushed and his glasses slightly askew.
“Now that’s what I call a proper hello.” I straightened his glasses, loving how he leaned into my touch. “Though I have to say, if we keep this up, we’ll never get these chairs arranged.”
“True.” He stepped back reluctantly. “And the teens would never let us hear the end of it if they caught us making out.”
“They already see enough as it is.” I grabbed a chair. “They’re pretty observant.”
Pascal laughed, that musical sound I’d grown to love. “They’re teenagers. Romance radar is like their superpower.”
