Atticus did, uncovering his cock.
“Stroke it.”
He did, leisurely caressing his dick while Slade fingered his hole, stretching him so perfectly.
“Ahh, God!” Atticus’s hips bucked, and his cock kicked hard in his hand when Slade massaged his prostate. “Yes … please … yes.”
Slade shifted, moving closer, pressing his lips to Atticus’s shoulder. He nipped him, then licked away the sting.
“Are you ready for me, Atticus? Are you ready for me to slide my dick inside you?”
He nodded, gasping as the sensations ripped through him.
“You sure? You sure this tight ass is ready for me?”
Atticus groaned when Slade pushed in three fingers.
“Fuck, you’re so tight.”
“Please,” Atticus begged, turning his head so he could reach Slade’s mouth.
“Please, what?” Slade kissed him. “Tell me.”
“Fuck me.”
Slade pumped his fingers inside him. “Like this?”
He shook his head. “With your cock.” Atticus grunted. “Fuck. Me. Slade.”
Slade grinned, pushing up on his arm, his fingers sliding out of him. Atticus shifted when Slade moved over him. Slade hooked his arm behind Atticus’s knee and spread his legs wide as he guided the blunt head of his dick to Atticus’s hole. He was already wearing a condom, completely prepared.
Atticus relaxed, closing his eyes and savoring the stretch as Slade sank deep inside him.
“God, you feel good,” Slade groaned, leaning forward as he pushed in as deep as he could go.
Atticus opened his eyes to find Slade’s face hovering above him. He thought for sure Slade would fuck him hard, chasing that inevitable release. He didn’t. No, he took his time, retreating slowly, pushing in again. Each stroke was deeper, lasted longer. It was incredible.
Slade shifted again, leaning over him fully, their chests touching as Slade rocked into him over and over.
Suddenly, his brain conjured an image of Carson standing in the corner, watching as Slade fucked him. He wondered whether Carson would see the intensity that arced between them. This wasn’t merely sex. Or if it was, it wasn’t like any sex Atticus had ever had.
“You feel good,” Slade whispered. “So good.”
There was a tightness in Atticus’s chest, and it had nothing to do with their proximity and everything to do with what he saw in Slade’s eyes. This wasn’t just a simple fuck. This was something else entirely. Something that Atticus felt with his entire being. Enough that it scared him. He’d never wanted more, never dreamed he could even have it. After all, he had nothing to offer anyone. He was a lone wolf, put on this earth to spend eternity without thatsomething morethat so many people found.
“Relax,” Slade said, lifting up, clearly sensing the panic that was starting to unravel inside Atticus.
“Fuck me,” Atticus snapped. “Fuck me hard.”
There was a glitter of something in Slade’s eyes, but it flashed by quickly before disappearing. Then everything changed. Gone was the gentle lover who’d nearly brought Atticus to tears. In his place, a man who knew exactly how to play Atticus’s body. Air became scarce when Slade bent him in half, contorting him like a pretzel as he began driving into him hard and deep.
It was perfect.
Too perfect.
Atticus reached for his cock, but Slade slapped his hand away. “You come without touching it.”
Oh, fuck. The way Slade barked that command was hot, even if he was insisting on the impossible.
