“If I touched you right now,” he says, voice ragged, “would you let me?Would you spread your legs and let me wrap my hand around your big, meaty cock?”
He shifts again, just slightly, and now his thigh is flush to mine.Fuck, I want his mouth on me, or ...Stop, he’s baiting you.Don’t let him do it.
“Are you hard for me, Monty?”His voice trembles, just barely.“As hard as a rock?If I reached over now, would you leak for me like you used to?Would you fuck into my fist and pretend you didn’t love it?”
I grip the edge of the seat so tightly it creaks.Because the answer is fucking yes.
But if I say it—if I let it out—I won’t come back from it.
So I stare out the windshield, jaw clenched, breath ragged, body screaming.
And beside me, Callaway doesn’t move.
Doesn’t touch.
Just watches me come undone without laying a single finger on me.
Because that’s what we are—a sin neither of us can stop craving.
A prayer neither of us is allowed to say out loud.
His thigh is still pressed to mine.And I feel him shift again, this time slower.His shoulder brushes mine.His face turns toward me.
And then, his breath.It ghosts across my jaw, soft and humid.
He’s not touching me.Not yet.But I feel him.I feel him everywhere.He breathes me in like I’m made of something holy.
Like he’s starving and I’m the last fucking sin left in the world.
“Monty ...”he says.Barely a sound.Not even a word—just a breath shaped like my name.
My throat tightens.My body screams.
And his voice—fuck, his voice—breaks apart between want and devastation.“I don’t know what I want.I just—I want something.To touch you.To taste you.To make you shut up.To make you listen.”
His fingers twitch on the seat between us.As if he wants to reach for me.Maybe, if I so much as tilted my head, he’d kiss me.
He’d fall into me like gravity never worked any other way.
“I still dream about it,” he whispers, forehead almost touching mine now.His breath mixes with mine, and it’s dizzying.Drunk-making.“The way you moaned the first time you had your cock in me.The way you looked at me like you were afraid you’d never stop.”
I don’t move.
I can’t.
Because I’m afraid if I do, I’ll fucking beg.
I’ll drag him into my lap and kiss him until we both forget our names.
“Please,” he says.
It breaks on the way out.Just one word.Cracked open.Raw.
And I don’t know what he’s asking for.
A touch.
A kiss.
