Hidden from curious stares and unasked questions. With nothing left between us but heat, breath, and the truth we’d already said out loud.
Bodhi tugged me away from where I’d been determinedly sucking his nipple with the clear intention of bruising it, and crashed his mouth onto mine. I slipped his vest from his shoulders and lobbed it vaguely in the direction of the cuck chair, not wanting it sacrificed to the floor. While Bodhi fumbled with his belt, I stepped out of my tartan skirt, silently thanking past-me for choosing something so wonderfully practical.
Unlike a certain frontman, who was shimmying and hopping in a valiant but failing attempt to escape the tightest jeans known to man.
I bit back a laugh as he struggled, hopping from foot to foot, tugging and swearing under his breath. Honestly, the pause was a blessing. It gave my dick a chance to calm the hell down so I didn’t come the second Bodhi looked at it.
When we were finally, mercifully naked, Bodhi slightly flushed and breathing a little hard from the exertion, we just... stopped.
We took each other in.
I felt his gaze crawl up my body from my toes to the crown of my head, slow and deliberate, the weight of it like a caress. I did the same, my eyes lingering shamelessly on his cock, standing proud and unapologetic. Mine mirrored it, the two of them pointing at each other like dowsing rods, unerringly locating the source of our mutual ruin.
I stepped closer.
So did Bodhi.
I stepped again.
And again, he matched me.
He wrapped his arms around my waist, closing the last inch of space between us, and when our cocks finally brushed, we both let out soft, satisfied moans. Skin to skin, warmth and softness meeting the faint tickle of his body hair. His lean, performer-built muscles felt solid without being hard, grounding without being rigid. And the scent of sandalwood and spice clinging to him beneath the sweat made my head spin.
Bodhi lifted a hand and tipped my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze.
His blue eyes were nearly black in the low light filtering in from the Milan skyline, hungry and intent. His jaw ticked like he was barely restraining himself from devouring me whole.
“Get on the bed, Iggy,” he said, leaning in until his lips brushed mine. “I’m going to devour you.”
“You sound like a kinky Hannibal Lecter,” I deadpanned.
He snorted, the tension cracking just enough for him to smack my ass, hard enough to make it jiggle.
“Get on the bed and spread your legs, you asshole.”
“Aye aye, Captain.” I saluted and flopped back onto the mattress, landing on my back.
“So, we’re doing pirate role-play now?” he teased.
I bent my knees, planted my feet, and spread my legs deliberately until I knew he could see everything.
“I’ll be whatever you want me to be,” I replied.
Bodhi’s breath hitched, his gaze flicking between my face and the space between my thighs, that familiar intensity sliding back into place.
“I just want you to be you,” he rasped.
My breath caught. I nodded.
“I can do that.”
Bodhi placed one knee on the bed, then the other, crawling up my body like a lion stalking its prey. He settled between my legs, my knees brushing his sides, and leaned down to kiss me. I was just lifting my arms to wrap around his neck when he pulled away, leaving me wanting as he reached for the bedside drawer. He returned with a travel-sized bottle of lube and a condom.
I smirked. “Stash them away in preparation?”
“A Boy Scout is always prepared,” he replied, nipping at my lower lip.
I scoffed. “You’ve never been a scout in your life.”
