“I want to make you come,” I confess, my voice strained because every inch of me is horny. Every fucking inch. “What do you want? What do you like?”
“I like making you come.”
He kisses me, his tongue sweeping over mine. His hips are flexing, causing all the right spots to rub and grind, skin-to-skin. I can see we’re going to get nowhere this way, and as much as another blow job would be far from a disappointment, I’m feeling greedy. I want more. I’m like someone on one of those game shows where you’re on a timed shopping spree, grabbing everything in sight because you know the clock is ticking.
Abbott’s gentle warning rolls through my memory. “Grady’s not a relationship guy.”
Is that what I want? I don’t know. But I do know that if this has an expiration date, I want to tick off all the boxes on my fantasy list before that time comes. Grady pulls out of the kiss, and I bite his bottom lip, which makes him grin.
“That time you said I could fuck you… Were you serious?”
Chapter 27
Grady
My playful smile disappears as soon as he asks the question. But my dick gets harder. He looks up at me his eyes big, impossibly blue, and completely vulnerable. He’s a rookie right now, in the sexual sense of the word, but he’s fucking eager. That doesn’t mean he’s ready, though.
I brush my lips to his again, and my brain races for a way to gently talk him out of it. Not that I don’t want him to fuck me. I want it. Bad. But it’s a lot, and I don’t want him to freak out or have regrets. “The leap from dick sucking to anal is… a big leap.”
“Is it? I mean, maybe when you’re a teenager, but we’re both pushing thirty, Grady,” Landon says. “I know my body and what I want, and what I want is you. If you’re into it.”
I stare at him. I know he means it. “Have you done any… research?”
He seems to consider that, and I watch his cheeks pink slightly as he averts his eyes and confesses, “I may have started watching some gay stuff on the internet. Occasionally.”
“Seeing and doing aren’t the same thing.”
I roll off of him, sliding to his side, but kissing his neck as I do so, he doesn’t think it’s a rejection. It’s not, but I need to put some space between us because having this conversation with my cock weeping onto his leg is not giving my brain the power it needs to think straight. He rolls onto his side, facing me, and props his head up with his bent elbow. “I get that. I don’t want to force you. I definitely don’t think I’m ready for the other way around, so if that makes you think I’m some kind of… hypocrite or something, we don’t have to do it.”
I shake my head and fold my arm under my head, my beard scratchy against the inside of my arm. “It’s not hypocritical. It’s normal. Straight men aren’t used to the idea, so this is usually their limit.”
He makes a weird face, like he has indigestion. “You still think of me as a straight guy?”
“How do you think of yourself?” I have learned through past experience, it’s best to let them label themselves.
“I think it’s pretty clear I’m happily bisexual.”
“Happily?” I’m kind of low-key amazed at how easy it is for him to talk about this.
“Yeah. I had the realization after we had that threesome, because being with you… felt like I found something I lost,” he says and looks sheepish, like he’s embarrassed by the confession.
Vulnerable Landon is my fetish. I get more and more turned on by him when he’s like this. It’s like a dial that keeps getting cranked. I lift off my arm and kiss him. It’s sloppy and awkward because of our angle, but it’s perfect. “You want to fuck me, you can fuck me.”
He looks shocked. “Really?”
“Yeah. Really.” I cup the side of his face and kiss him, harder this time, rolling him onto his back and sliding my body over his again. “Just between you and me, I’ll give you whatever you want. You kind of have me fucking whipped for some reason.”
He kisses me and we make out for a few minutes, tongues battling, teeth nipping, my hands roam his hair and his roam my body, finding their way down my back to my ass. He squeezes and kneads, and I flex my hips into him. I rub my stomach against his cock, feeling his wetness slide against me. “How do we do this?” he whispers as his lips ghost my collarbone.
“With lube and prep work,” I tell him honestly.
I lift myself off of him and go over to my suitcase abandoned by the door. I haul it up onto the empty bed and unzip it. Pulling out my travel case, I grab a couple of condoms and some lube. As he watches me, his hand moves to fist his cock, and I watch him stroke himself. God, he’s fucking gorgeous, and he wants me. It’s insane. I’ve hooked up with more than a few people, in and out of the league. I haven’t done this with more than three. I usually stick to blow jobs and hand jobs because they’re less intimate. But I want intimate with Landon. That should scare the fuck out of me, and I’m sure it will in the near future, but for now… fuck it.
I crawl back onto the bed on my knees, tossing the condom at his chest. I say, “Hold onto this for later.”
And then I flip the cap on the lube, but I don’t do anything with it. Instead, I just kneel there while Landon moves, getting into the same position as me. Kneeling face-to-face, he scrapes his fingers into my beard and then around my neck to cup the back of my head. He pulls my mouth to his and we share a mind-blowing kiss. Landon is greedy, and needy, and rough when he kisses, and damn, if it doesn’t hit all the right buttons inside me. Before long, we’re pressed into each other, our cocks rubbing and bumping. My one hand is grabbing his ass, and the other is still holding the lube. He moves his mouth from mine, down my neck, and sucks on the skin at the curve of my shoulder. I spread some lube on my hand and move it behind my back.
He looks at me, mesmerized, as I slide a slippery digit into my ass and my eyelashes flutter reflexively at the breach. “Can I… help?”
