“We’re also going to a play this weekend, which, honestly, I amnotthat excited about. You should come suffer with me.”
He laughs. “What play?”
“The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.”
He gasps. “How can you not like that story?”
“It’s not the story. It’s the fact that I’ve seen so many versions and read the book so many times that I’m bored with it.”
He shakes his head. “Never.”
“Join us then?” I plead, my voice just a little too eager.
Vince shrugs. “Depends on the time. I still have to work.”
I move my hands higher, gliding easily over the soft material of his pants. They’re not quite track pants, but not jeans either. Something in between that could pass for dark slacks if needed. My fingers graze his inner thigh as I work, making him shift in his seat.
“Sorry,” I say quietly.
“No, it’s… Believe me, you’re helping.” He darts his attention away, lips firm like he’s struggling with himself. He almost shifts away, but drops his eyes to his groin, mouth parting. “I can’t believe I can feel it. Your hands, I mean. It’s… fuck. It feels so good.”
His curious tone is heavy, full of desire. He wants my hands on other parts of him—like he’s desperate to know if he can still feel anything on his cock or if the nerve damage has reached there too. I don’t want to pressure him, but I don’t want to pull away either.
The air slowly shifts, conversation fading like vapor. Heat, awareness, something unspoken and electric becoming a live wire between us. We both feel it, but I pretend I don’t. I’m not sure if he’s ready to cross that line. Hell, I’m not sureIam. Whatever this is—whatever it might become—I don’t want to rush it.
More than that, I don’t want to lose it.
I keep my focus on the massage, loosening each knot. I move to the other leg, and Vince shifts again as I get higher. The growing bulge in his pants is unmistakable.
Just before I finish and pull away, Vince grabs my hand. Our eyes meet, and any pretense vanishes. The boundary I had been trying to keep disappears like smoke. We lean in at the same time, our lips hovering millimeters apart before finally touching in the sweetest, softest kiss I’ve ever had.
“Please,” he pleads. “I have to know.”
My heart pounds loudly in my chest.
He reaches up to cup my face. “Please touch me, Fletch.”
I kiss him again. When he deepens it, I glide my hand over his erection. Vince shudders, almost gasping. His kisses become sloppier the more I touch him, like his attention is only on one thing.
“Take your pants off,” I whisper.
Together, we work his pants down and I quickly close my hand around his bare cock. Vince’s eyes flutter and his mouth parts.
“Holy fuck.” His large hand grips my thigh as I touch the sensitive head. “Itwasjust my hand then.” He sounds genuinelyrelieved. But I would be too. Any guy would, to know their cock still has feeling.
“Want me to stop?”
He kisses me hard. “No.”
Vince glides a hand over my thigh to my groin, trying to touch me back. Lust burns hot through me as he palms my stiff erection.
I break apart just long enough to undress, then sit beside him. How long has it been since I’ve had sex with someone? Touched someone? Hell, even kissed someone? A few years, at least. I want Vince’s hands on me more than anything.
The moment his firm hand closes around my shaft, I groan.
I encourage him to scoot to the center of the loveseat. I straddle his legs, being careful not to put any weight on him. We match our pace as we stroke each other, kissing and panting into each other’s mouths.
Vince groans as he slides his free hand up my back, pulling me closer. I grind down hard, but quickly pull away, afraid it’s too much.
