The coffee pot gurgled, and I turned to grab some mugs. “You want one?” I asked Noah.
“I should go. I just wanted to come and talk to you both in person.”
Jet grabbed me around the side and pulled me close. “I’m glad you did.”
I slung my arm across my boyfriend’s shoulders, easily sliding into place. “Yeah, me too.”
Noah glanced between us, smiled, then nodded. “See you soon.”
As soon as the door clicked shut, Jet nodded toward the bedroom. “Now… back to bed?”
I laughed. “Or the other bed?”
“What other bed?” He swooped his hair back with one hand, then blinked when he got it. “Oh, your bed!”
“My bed,” I agreed. “You up for a lazy Sunday at my place?”
* * *
I gasped for air, my lips raw from dragging them over Jet’s stubble. We were naked in my bed, sweaty and hard, and afternoon light cascaded through the window and over our bodies.
“I thought you wanted a lazy afternoon,” Jet growled as he rolled on top of me. His nipples were hard, and his cock strained against his abs, inches above my erection.
“We’re in bed, aren’t we? That has to count for something.”
I pulled him down, and he crashed onto me, chest to chest, legs all a mess. We gave each other sloppy kisses as we rolled back and forth, taking full advantage of my king-sized mattress, while from my little Bluetooth speaker, a slow and sultry playlist rolled through the afternoon.
Fuck, it was perfect. Being with him was perfect. We moved like tidal waves, our gestures matching in such close rhythm, then colliding. I was never sure who was doing what, just how we felt together. Jet slid his lubricated fingers across my hole, stroking me and teasing me, and I spasmed under his control until I had him in my arms again, and we rutted together hard.
I didn’t have to worry about what I wanted or who I was. Every second was new to each of us, and the point was just to be there with Jet, feeling it all together.
“You want to fuck me?” he whispered in my ear.
I reached around behind him and grabbed his firm ass, squeezing and then slapping, which earned a surprised laugh and a twitch from Jet. “Hell yeah,” I answered, then kissed him.
Jet rolled onto his back. “Take your time,” he said, then pulled his legs up. “It’s been a minute.”
I looked at him, lying there and presenting himself to me. Jet’s curly brown hairs crowned his thick, pulsing cock, and with his legs up, his sack hung heavy. When I leaned forward, then instantly found my way to kissing down his crease, inhaling his musk, it hit me.
I knew what I was doing. Somehow, I hadn’t just figured out some of what I wanted to do—I actually learned how to do it well, too.
Like how Jet had shown me before the masquerade, I sank into my body and my power.
Taking Jet by the hips, I crawled back, then swirled my tongue to his rim. He groaned and arched his hips, pushing his weight to his shoulders and pulling his knees up to expose his clenching hole to me. There were sparse hairs there, between the firm, muscular globes, and his earthy scent hit the core of my desire, familiar and erotic and raw.
“Babe, Peyton,” he groaned. “Eat me, just like that.”
I licked up, dragging my tongue across his rim and in. My mind flashed back to when I’d done this blindfolded at the masquerade, and just like then, Jet’s entrance twitched around my tongue.
“Lube,” he grunted, then fumbled toward the nightstand. “Now.”
I grinned. Sitting on my knees, one hand holding my cock, I looked down on Jet’s needy expression as he searched for the lube.
Fuck, it felt good how much he wanted me to fuck him.
When he tossed me the lube, I squirted it onto my fingers, then pushed two digits to his hot hole. Jet wiggled his back against the mattress, pulled his cheeks apart again, and then quickly relaxed enough to take my fingers in.
Like with rimming him, my muscles and nerves remembered everything. The slick heat of it welcomed me, and I found the throb of his prostate, kicking with his need like mine did. When his hole seized and tugged me in further, I grunted with my own pleasure.
