What I lacked in experience, I made up for in enthusiasm. I loved the feeling of him heavy on my tongue, the way he filled my mouth so completely. I experimented with pressure and speed, noting what made his breath hitch and thighs tense. When I relaxed my throat and took him as deep as I could, nose pressing into wiry curls, he let out a guttural moan that sent shivers down my spine.
“Adan, fuck,” he panted above me. “Your mouth,herregud…”
Pride surged through me at reducing him to cursing and Swedish mumbles. I doubled my efforts, taking him as deep as I could. The head of his cock hit the back of my throat and I swallowed around him. He let out a choked-off cry, his grip tightening in my hair.
I hummed in response and he cursed, hips twitching like he wanted to thrust but was holding back. Seeing him come undone, knowing I was the cause, was intoxicating. I never wanted to stop.
I pulled out every trick I could remember from my research, working his cock with my tongue and lips and hand. Licking broad stripes up the underside, tracing the ridge around the head, pressing open-mouthed kisses all over his shaft. Savoring the taste of him, musky and salty and perfect.
I fondled his balls gently, rolling them in my palm as I sucked. He let out a strangled groan, thighs tensing under my hands. Encouraged, I redoubled my efforts. I bobbed faster, taking him as deep as I could on each downstroke. Saliva dripped down my chin, the wet sounds obscene in the quiet room.
“Adan, fuck,så bra,” he babbled, slipping into Swedish. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”
I had no intention of stopping. The weight of him on my tongue, the taste of his arousal, the sounds spilling from his lips—I was drunk on it. I never wanted this moment to end. I wanted to stay here forever, worshipping his body with my mouth.
I pulled off for a moment, looking up at him through my lashes. His pupils were blown wide, his cheeks flushed. I kept my eyes locked on his as I licked a slow stripe from base to tip, swirling my tongue around the sensitive head. He groaned, low and deep, the sound shooting straight to my own cock, which hardened again, ready for round two.
“Adan, I’m going to…” he warned, his voice strained.
I moaned in encouragement and took him as deep as I could, fighting my gag reflex. That pushed him over the edge. With a hoarse cry, he spilled into my mouth, his cock pulsing against my tongue. I swallowed around him, determined to at least try it. He tasted musky and slightly bitter, and after a first taste, I let the rest seep out of my mouth and down my chin.
I gentled my movements, licking and stroking him through the aftershocks until he became too sensitive. Carefully, I let his softening cock slip from my mouth. I quickly wiped my mouth and chin on the bed sheets, then pressed tender kisses to his hips, his stomach, nuzzling into the trail of hair below his navel.
I crawled back up his body, both of us breathing hard. He pulled me into a kiss that was slower now, deeper, full of everything we hadn’t been able to say for all these months.
“I love you,” I said against his mouth. “I’ve loved you for months. Maybe since that first time you corrected my shot and I wanted to punch you for being right.”
He laughed, the sound vibrating through both our chests. “I love you too. Have loved you since you showed up at my door demanding answers. Maybe before.”
We lay there tangled together, hands roaming lazily now that the desperate edge was off. I traced the lines of his abs, the curve of his hip, the strong muscles of his thighs. He mapped my body the same way, like he was relearning something precious.
“No more hiding?” I asked.
“No more hiding,” he confirmed. “My contract ends in June. Two more months, but?—”
“Two months is nothing compared to seven. And no more pretending we’re just friends. No more sitting apart on buses. No more professional distance.”
“None,” he agreed, pulling me closer. “Though you won’t be on buses anymore. You’ll be in Detroit.”
“We’ll figure it out. Weekend visits. Whatever it takes.”
“Whatever it takes,” he echoed.
I kissed him again, slow and deep. We had time now. All the time in the world to kiss, to touch, to love each other without fear of getting caught or ruining careers.
I was exactly where I belonged.
28
NILS
Adan had fallen asleep when I’d still been in my port-orgasmic bliss. Not that I could fault him for it. He must’ve been exhausted after that long day and playing that game. But I was still awake, and I couldn’t stop watching him sleep.
He lay sprawled across my bed, one arm flung over his head, the other resting on my chest like even unconscious, he needed to touch me. The streetlight filtering through my window caught the angles of his face: the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his lips still slightly swollen from kissing, the tiny scar near his left eye from that fight with HIT.
All these months of careful distance, and now he was here. In my bed. Mine.
I propped myself on one elbow, cataloguing all the small changes that five months had wrought. His face had lost the last softness of youth, replaced by the defined features of a man who’d fought for his dreams and won. His body had grown even more beautiful, all sleek, powerful muscles, like a jaguar.
