I started to go to my knees, but Bryson caught my arm. “Wait. I want to undress you.”
I hesitated. That was…more intimate than I usually got with my hookups. Usually, we got down to business the fastest way possible. But Bryson was already different in every way. He was a romantic, had extracted a promise for a second date, and I’d agreed.
So I stepped forward, nerves making my pulse leap as he reached for the buttons of my shirt. One by one, he undid them, and then spread the fabric of my shirt open to expose my chest.
He leaned forward and nuzzled the space between my pecs while his hands slipped down to unfasten my belt. I shrugged the shirt off my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. My jeans weren’t far behind. Bryson pushed them over my hips and town my thighs.
I toed off my shoes, stepped out of my pants, and took a minute to appreciate the stunned surprise on his face as he took in my crimson thong.
“Damn,” he muttered, gaze running up and down my body. “You cannot be real right now.”
I bit my bottom lip, giving him a coy look from under my lashes, and watched him shudder and reach down to palm his dick. Oh yeah, I still had it.
“My turn?” I suggested as I stepped between his spread legs and pushed his jean jacket over his shoulders.
Bryson let me tug his T-shirt up, revealing a nicely toned stomach and chest. He was no gym rat, but his genetics had been kind to him. Gold hair glimmered between his pecs, then narrowed into a darker strip leading down into his waistband.
My mouth watered at the thought of getting to that treasure.
I tossed his shirt aside and reached for his zipper. Bryson leaned back on his elbows, lifting his hips so that I could tug his jeans down his body. I ended up on my knees after all.
I removed the rest of his clothing. Unlike me, he wore utilitarian gray boxer briefs, but Bryson didn’t need flashy underwear to look sexy as hell.
I pushed his thighs apart, gazing at the very nice cock that jutted out from a thatch of brown hair. It was the perfect size for a good ride: medium thickness, seven inches, and cut.
I swayed forward and pressed a kiss to the damp cockhead.
Bryson swore quietly, but to my surprise, he tugged me up again. “Come into the bed with me,” he murmured. “I want to kiss you more.”
I let myself be positioned on my back, Bryson kissing me and then proceeding to kiss every inch of my body, too. How had this happened? I usually took charge in my hookups, but he had this way of subverting my plans.
Bryson’s eyes flicked up, meeting mine, hot andpossessive as he nipped my inner thigh. His beard tickled my skin, just as delicious as I’d expected.
I moaned, cock twitching. “Please, Bryson.”
“Yes, darlin’? You want something?”
“I’d like to come sometime this century,” I said dryly. “How about you?”
He smirked. “Just enjoying the scenic route, Silas. You should try it sometime.”
I grabbed his hair and dragged him down over my cock. He opened his mouth and let me thrust into hot, wet heaven.
“Fuck,” I gasped as he put his tongue to use, sliding it along my shaft, dancing it under my frenulum, then swirling it over my cockhead, all while sucking me with delicious, slow bobs of his head.
He slid his middle finger into his mouth, getting it shiny with spit, then cast me a questioning look.
“Yes.” I widened my thighs and Bryson slid his finger inside me, ratcheting up my pleasure. “Want you to fuck me.”
I twisted to grab the lube from my nightstand and tossed it to him. Bryson pushed two slick fingers into me. I moaned at the sweet stretch and lifted my hips to silently beg for more. He added a third finger and rubbed my prostate, pushing me to the brink of coming.
“Bryson!” I said, voice tight with warning.
He smirked and eased up, retreating to roll on a condom and coat it with lube.
“Ready?” he asked, voice more serious now as he gazed into my eyes.
“Dying for it,” I murmured, surprising myself.
