My heart kicks. “However long you want.”
His groan is pained. “I wish you could hear the words you say.”
I try to run back through them now, but Oakley plants a hand under my ass and lifts at the same time as he punches inside of me. My breath stutters out as he ruthlessly pegs me again and again.
“F-fuck,” I groan, my cock bucking, all that haziness I was floating in coalescing into a sharp point. “Too…ah,too good.”
“Is that possible?” he asks, his words breathy.
“Need…”
“A little longer,” he says, slowing right back down, the shallow roll of his hips having me panting. I can feel every inch of him, every slide into me, the thickness of his cock keeping me open and the man himself a blanket of sensation I want to curl up in.
I know he’s trying to draw this out, but I’m so close.Soclose, and every minute shift of his body against mine, inside of mine, has me creeping ever closer to that edge.
I don’t want to trip. I want to fucking fly.
“Oak,” I husk out, turning my head to catch his gaze. Blue and brown stares back at me, the man’s cheeks and forehead flushed, his mouth slick and parted, so close I could catch his lips with my own if I wanted.A kiss. A token. It wouldn’t mean the same thing now as it did when we were eleven. I force my voice to work. “Make me come for you, Oakley.”
Gaze never leaving my own, Oakley picks up his pace, wraps his hand around my cock, and strokes. My orgasm hits me like the summer sun blasting out from around a cloud. When the sky is dreary and the air feels cold, but your face is still turned toward the sky, waiting, waiting. And then there it is, a wave of heat, a swelling in your chest and a lightness of your very being. It’s bliss. A world dark having gone light. It’s fleeting, you know it is, but you savor every single second of it for as long as you can.
Prickles run along the corner of my mouth, soft lips brushing featherlight against my skin. Oakley’s lips. His exhalation is stuttered, an excruciating ecstasy I understand, his hips jolting against me as he comes undone. His mouth is right there.Rightthere. AndGod, I just want…
But Oakley turns his head before I can finish my thought, his face tucked against my neck, his breaths sawing out, one hand still clutching my arm. My heart beats erratically. I don’t want the clouds to return yet. I want to bask in Oakley’s sunlight.
Which is why, when the man says, “Stay tonight,” I have only one response.
“Yeah.”
Oakley draws back, his gaze snagging on my mouth for a prolonged moment before he pushes up onto his hands. He slips from my body, discarding the condom and making quickwork of untying my arms. He lowers them back to my sides slowly, rubbing each as if to help the flow of blood return.
“All right?” he checks.
“Fine.”
Oakley wipes me down with the corner of the sheet before falling next to me on the bed, too tired maybe to bother with anything more. I don’t mind. I scoot up the mattress with my pillow, finding Oakley watching me, expression serious.
“It’s not weird,” I assure him, wondering if that’s what he’s concerned about. He did ask the other day if talking about sex with him was odd. None of it is. “Does it feel weird to you?”
“No,” he answers quickly. “That’s not what I was thinking.”
I wait, but he doesn’t volunteer more. “Would you get over here then? I’m getting cold.”
With a huff and a twitch of a smile, Oakley scoots closer. He wraps his arm around my chest, bristling the side of my shoulder almost aggressively with his lips before I reach over and swat him. His sigh sounds happy, his hand wandering down to my forearm before stilling. He brushes a fingertip along the scar I got there when I was sixteen.
“I remember when this happened,” he says, tracing the crescent shape slowly.
“I should hope so. You were there.”
Oakley hums. “I’ve seen that old ass wandering around the ranch a couple times. The Darling Donkey. Why is that?”
I chuckle. “Jackson could tell you the story better than I could. The donkey helped him find Ash when he went missing.”
“Ash was missing? Shit.”
“More like stuck. In the woods. Jackson’s been giving the donkey treats ever since as a thank-you.”
Oakley snorts, his finger continuing to run along my forearm, over the bite mark. “I still haven’t forgiven him.”
