Lake’s fingers tighten in my hair, and he pushes his hips forward. “This is better than tacos,” he moans. He squirms and hooks his leg over my shoulder in a move that should have been awkward, but he makes it look natural.
If this isn’t better than tacos, I’m doing something wrong. I’m not even a fan of the food; my sexual skillsdon’tcome second place to them. Lake can at least pick a good food if he’s gonna put it above me. One that’ll fill a person up, not leave them wanting.
I never leave him wanting.
Pre-cum leaks out when I suckle on the head, and I flick my tongue over the slit, lapping up all of the bitter sweetness. Lake’s heel digs into my upper back, pulling me closer, his babbling devolving into nothing but loud noises and begging. Exactly where I like him.
“Please. Yes. I need—I need—” Lake whimpers and rotates his hips, trying to fuck into my mouth. A hand on his hip stops that nonsense. He’ll take what I give him, and he’ll fucking love it.
His groan is pure frustration when I pull off. “Why’d you stop?”
“Do you need something, baby?”
“I need your—I need you in me.”
Smirking, I mouth the side of Lake’s length and shift my arm under his thigh. The leg over my shoulder makes it easier for me to get to his ass. His hole is tight and firm under my finger, fighting against me when I try to push in. The angle is a bit of a struggle, but I push up his thigh enough to get my mouth there, licking enough to wet him so I can slide right in.
“Oh, fuck.Fuck. That. There.”
“Like this?” A second finger is a bit tighter, but Lake doesn’t seem to mind.
“Yeah, just like that,” Lake breathes out. “More.”
As if I can say no to a demand like that. I swallow down his cock again, fingering him slowly while he squirms on me, like he can’t decide if he wants to push forward or back.
When I find the perfect nub inside him, he cries out, tensing and relaxing all at the same time, cradling me to him until it feels like there’s nothing separating us, like we’re melding into each other. “Rightthererighttherepleasepleaseplease.”
He’s close, I can hear it, I cantasteit. All it takes is me swallowing around his head. He screams, hips arching, his cock pushing further into my mouth as it’s filled with his cum.
The way Lake enjoys everything we do together is heady, like he’s hungry all the time, and I’m the only one that can satiate him. No one else has ever made me feel like that. He strokes my head as he comes down from his tremors, his leg lowering. His skin is smooth under my touch, my thumbs circling gently over his hips.
“Is it my turn?”
He doesn’t give me a chance to answer, shoving me to my back and expertly undoing my belt and slacks. In seconds, he has my cock out and his lips wrap around me.
I might be embarrassed about how quickly I come after that. Except that he’s moaning desperately around my dick, just as eager for it as I am. He swallows all of it and laps up the rest, his tongue mapping my dick.Christ. It’s too sensitive, but I don’t ask him to stop. I’d never ask him to stop.
“We should do this every Tuesday in lieu of tacos,” Lake murmurs as he crawls up my body to reach my lips.
“Whatever you want,” is all I can get out, dragging him down to kiss him, sharing our taste between us. There’s nothing in the world better.
“Dinner should still be hot. Or warm-ish,” Lake says, burying his face in the crook of my neck. “I’mstarving.”
I could eat.
Neither of us makes a move to get up. He’s warm against me, his breathing evening out as I trail the pads of my fingers up and down his back.
Food can probably wait a few more minutes.
Chapter two
Grady
Bysomemiracle,theburgers and chips that Lake had shoved in the oven before deciding to dissect our bathroom are still warm. There aren’t any labels on the bag, but the food smells good enough to make my mouth water. Quinn and I barely had time today to scarf down some sandwiches from a random deli on the way to another crime scene. It’s been one of those days. But knowing that I’ll end my day here, with this man, makes every day so much more tolerable.
It’s never been like this with someone else. And I’ll never say it out loud, even under duress.
“Where’d you get this?” I ask, unwrapping the burger. Not a fast-food joint. It looks too fresh for that and smells better. It hasgourmet written all over it. And it’s also a heart attack waiting to happen, based on the cheese oozing out of it.
