“I want to see it all.”
Not on the sofa. I wanted him laid out in front of me, and I helped him to his feet, my hands sliding down to his ass, squeezing just enough to make him gasp. His cock was already hardening, the outline visible through his jeans, and when I pressed against him, he let out a shaky breath, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. “You feel that?” I murmured, my voice a low growl. “You feel how hard you make me?”
His breath stuttered, his fingers digging into my shoulders. I walked him backward, down the hall to my room, and back to the bed, my mouth never leaving his skin—kissing his jaw down to the line of his collarbone. He stumbled slightly when his legs hit the mattress, but I caught him, my hands steady on his waist.
“Can we lie down?” I asked.
He didn’t hesitate, just sank onto the bed, his long body sprawling back on the sheets, his pale eyes never leaving mine. I followed him down, crawling over him, my knees bracketing his hips. He breathed hard, his fingers curling into the comforter. I reached for the hem of his shirt, tugging it up, and he lifted his arms again, letting me strip it off. His skin was pale in the dim light, a map of sharp edges and lean muscle, his nipples already tight, his cock straining in his jeans.
I brushed my thumbs over his nipples, and he arched into the touch with a quiet, needy sound.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” I murmured, leaning down to press my mouth to his collarbone, then lower, my tongue tracing the dip between his pecs. His fingers found my hair, gripping, as if he was afraid I’d stop.
I wasn’t going to stop. Not tonight.
I sat back on my heels, and his gaze dropped to my chest, his breath hitching.
His fingers twitched. “I want…”
“Go ahead,” I said, my voice rough. “Touch me.”
He hesitated for only a second before his hands lifted, his long fingers tracing the lines of my abs, the ridges of my muscles. His touch was light at first, almost hesitant, but when I groaned, my head tipping back, he grew bolder, his palms pressing harder, his thumbs brushing over my nipples. I hissed, my cock throbbing in my pants, and when I looked back at him, his eyes were dark, his lips parted.
“You like that?” I asked, my voice a low rumble.
He nodded. “Yeah.”
I smirked, leaning to capture his mouth again, my tongue sliding against his. His hands moved to my shoulders, then to my back, his nails digging in as I ground my hips against his, the friction of our cocks through our jeans sending a jolt of pleasurethrough me. He gasped into the kiss, his hips lifting, seeking more, and he groaned, reaching for his belt.
“I want you so bad,” he mumbled as I popped the button of his jeans and dragged the zipper down. His cock was already hard, the head peeking above the waistband of his black briefs, and when I wrapped my hand around him, stroking him through the fabric, he let out a broken sound, his hips jerking up.
“Fuck, Cole?—”
“I know,” I murmured, my teeth grazing his pulse point. “I’ve got you.”
And I did. I had him and I wasn’t letting go.
Only, one second, I had him pinned beneath me, his breath hitching every time I traced my fingers along his ribs. Next, his hands shot up between us, and with a sudden, fluid motion, he rolled us, the air rushing out of my lungs as Morgan’s lean frame settled over mine, his thighs straddling my hips, his weight pressing me into the mattress.
I blinked up at him, stunned. His hair fell forward, shadowing those sharp cheekbones, his pale eyes burning with something I’d never seen in them before—not hesitation, not caution, but hunger.
“Fuck,” I breathed, my voice rough, confidence was so hot in this man.
His lips parted, just slightly, and then—god, then he smirked. It was a small thing, a faint curl at the corner of his mouth, but it sent a jolt straight to my gut. His hips shifted, just enough that the heat of him, the weight of him, settled more firmly on me. My hands instinctively gripped his waist, fingers digging into the dip just above his ass, and I could feel the way his breath hitched, the way his thighs tensed around me.
“You like that?” he murmured, his voice low.
I groaned, bucking my hips up just enough to grind. “You have no idea.”
His smirk deepened, and something dark and possessive flickered in his eyes. He braced one hand beside my head, his fingers splaying into the sheets. And with the other, scraped his nails lightly over my nipple. I hissed, my back arching, and Morgan made a sound—something between a hum and a growl—that vibrated straight through me.
“Tell me what I can do,” he asked, his voice rougher now.
I laughed, breathless, because this—this—was the last thing I’d expected. Morgan, who had spent the last hour looking worried and nervous, was riding me, his hips rolling in a slow, teasing rhythm that had my cock throbbing. “I want you to fucking use me,” I growled, gripping his hips harder. “However, you want. Just—fuck?—”
His mouth crashed onto mine before I could finish, his teeth nipping at my lower lip, his tongue sweeping in deep and demanding. I groaned into him, dragging my nails down his spine. He shuddered, his cock hard and leaking against my stomach, the friction maddening. I could feel the way his heart hammered, the way his fingers tangled in my hair, yanking just enough to make my scalp sting.
He pulled back suddenly, his chest heaving, his eyes wild. “Are you mine?” he asked.
