Jeremy collapses in a daze, his arms spread wide, but I can’t stand looking at his perfect body coated in his release. I sit back on my knees and jerk my cock hard and fast, orgasming with a roar, string after string of cum decorating Jeremy’s abs, chest, and throat. When I’m completely spent, I roll onto my back, trying to control my raging heartbeat and erratic breaths.
After a few minutes, Jeremy crawls off the bed and goes to the bathroom, and I hear water running. He returns with a warm washcloth and wipes his abs clean before turning to me. I reach for the rag, but he shakes his head and cleans me himself.
It’s a weirdly intimate process as he wipes cum from my softening cock and the crease between my balls and thigh, but I can’t look away. Even with his hair mussed, mascara tracks onhis cheeks, and swollen lips, he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
When he’s finished, he returns the rag to the bathroom, and my gut tingles with unease. Surely, one of us is about to freak out.
I get up and slide on my boxers.
Jeremy stops when he sees me. “Where’re you going?”
The way he’s looking at me strips me of everything. Every defense I have. I have no control, and it’s unsettling. “I should probably go back to the couch.” My cheeks are unbearably hot.
“It’s okay to stay.” He sits, slides on his underwear, and crawls under the covers, but his eyes never leave me. “If you want to.”
“It is?”
Because I really, really want to.
“It’s always been your choice, Marcus. And you’ve always left.”
Ouch. That one hurts. But he’s not wrong.
“I don’t really expect you to change your mind this time.” His voice is clipped, laced with that bratty undertone I love so much.
My dick twitches, despite how tired it is. “Actually, I’m good.”
“What?” His eyebrows raise in surprise.
“I said, I’m good.” I sit back down and pull the covers over my body, snuggling into his smaller frame. He immediately melts into me, and my hand falls to his waist, lightly fingering his scar.
“I’m not talking about it,” he says petulantly.
“Good,” I quip. “Because I’m tired as fuck.”
It doesn’t take long for us to fall asleep.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
JEREMY
Iwake up to gentle snoring and athickarm wrapped around my body.
At first, I think I must be dreaming. Everything from yesterday has to have been a dream. There’s no way Marcus came around so easily. There’s no way we wrung multiple orgasms out of each other in the last forty-eight hours.
I move my hip and grimace because the sheets beneath me are definitely stiff with dried cum.
Gross. So not a dream. But also, Marcus fucking Conner is sleeping next to me—willingly!
I don’t want to move. I don’t want to even breathe for fear that I’ll break this blissful bubble that we’ve found ourselves in. Marcus’s big body is wrapped around me, and I can feel every inch of his skin in high definition against my back—his biceps, his pecs, the roughness of his chest hair, his abs, and, my favorite, his cock, which is now as hard as steel and poking into my ass in a very delicious way.
He nuzzles his face into the nape of my neck. “Don’t move like that again unless you want to get fucked,” he rasps in the sexiest morning voice I’ve ever heard.
“Promise?” I can’t help it, I grind back against him, and his arm drops to my hip, his fingers digging in.
“Jeremy . . .”
I smile because his tone is adorably grumpy, and with a snicker, I wiggle again, choosing to poke the bear.
