“You have no idea.”
His mouth moved to my neck, sucking and biting his way down to my collarbone. I tilted my head back, giving him access, and my hands moved to his back—feeling muscle shift under skin, feeling the way his body tensed when I dragged my nails down his spine hard enough to leave marks.
He bit down on the junction of my neck and shoulder—hard enough to sting, hard enough to bruise—and I gasped. The pain bloomed into pleasure and I felt my cock leak.
“Tell me what you want,” he murmured against my skin, voice muffled.
“You. I want you.”
“More specific.” His teeth closed on my collarbone, not quite hard enough to hurt. “Tell me.”
My brain was already fuzzy with want, thoughts scattering every time he bit down or sucked a mark into my skin. But I forced myself to focus. Forced myself to say what I'd been thinking about for weeks.
“I want you to fuck me. Want to feel you inside me. Want you to make me come so hard I forget my own fucking name.”
He groaned, and I felt his cock twitch against mine through our pants. “Jesus Christ.”
“That specific enough?”
“Yeah.” His voice was wrecked, barely recognizable. “Yeah, that works.”
He kissed his way down my chest, pausing to bite at one nipple while his hand worked the other. I gasped, back arching off the bed, and he made an approving sound low in his throat.
“So sensitive here,” he muttered, almost to himself. Like he was cataloging my reactions for future reference. “I'm going to spend hours on these. Going to make you come just from this.”
“Fuck, Grant?—”
“But not tonight.” He kissed his way down my stomach, tongue dipping into every ridge of muscle, and I felt him pause at my navel. His tongue circled it, then dipped inside, and the sensation was so weirdly intimate I shivered. “Tonight I need to be inside you.”
My hips bucked at the words. At the promise in them. “Then get on with it.”
He looked up at me from where he was positioned between my legs, and the look in his eyes was pure sin. Dark and hungry and completely focused on me.
“Patience.”
“I don't have any.”
He popped the button on my jeans and dragged the zipper down slowly, deliberately, knuckles brushing against my cock through my boxer briefs.
“Lift up.”
I did, and he pulled my jeans and boxer briefs off in one smooth motion. Then I was naked beneath him, completelybare, and his eyes traveled over me like he was memorizing every inch.
The air conditioning hit my skin, making me shiver. Making my cock bob against my stomach, flushed dark and dripping. I felt exposed. Vulnerable. And fuck if that didn't make me harder.
“Fuck, you're beautiful,” he said quietly.
My face heated. “I'm really not.”
“You are.” He ran his hands up my thighs, spreading them wider, and I felt the calluses on his palms catch on my skin. “Perfect.”
Then he leaned down and pressed his face against my inner thigh, inhaling deeply, and I realized what he was doing.
My breath caught. Nobody had ever?—
“You smell so fucking good,” he groaned, and his tongue traced a line up the crease where my thigh met my groin. Not quite touching my cock, not going where I desperately needed him. Just tasting my skin like he couldn't get enough. “I want to bury my face in you.”
“Then do it.”
