“Crap. I’m hurting you.” I start to pull out, but he wraps his legs around my hips, trapping me.
“Not that answer, the first one.” He wraps his legs around me and digs his heels into my back. “I’m not okay. I’m better than okay. If you stop, I might have to kill you.”
Now that I know he’s not uncomfortable, stopping is the furthest thing from my mind. I try to go slow, but Adam’s not having it. He rocks into me, wordlessly urging me to thrust faster, harder, deeper.
But this is way too good to rush. I watch, mesmerized, as I disappear into my boyfriend’s tight hole. Then I withdraw and do it again. Wash, rinse, repeat until we’re both panting and sweaty.
“Fuck, you feel incredible,” Adam chokes out between pants.
“So do you. So hot and wet. I don’t know if I can last much longer.”
“Then don’t.”
Easy for him to say, but there’s no way I’m coming before he does. I slither a hand down his torso, following the happy trail of hair bisecting his chest and abs. When I reach his erection, I circle my fingers around it and start stroking in time with my long, slow thrusts. There’s no words now, only sighs and groans and indistinct muttering. He’s close, I’m like ten minutes past close, and then we’re both there, gasping and shaking until we’re empty.
I slump down onto the bed next to him, feeling like I’ve just run a marathon. Exhausted, but triumphant.
And sticky. Very sticky. We both are, thanks to Adam, who came like a racehorse all over his six-pack and my respectably flat but less developed abdominals. It’s a good thing I don’t suffer from low self-esteem because there’s no way I’m ever going to measure up physically to my boyfriend.
My boyfriend. My best friend. My partner in love and in life.
That thought puts a stupid smile on my face as I pull out of him and start to ease myself off the bed. I don’t get far, though, thanks to the muscular thigh he throws over my hips, pinning me in place.
See what I mean about not measuring up to his physical standards? The guy could squash me like a grape. And I’d love every minute of it.
“Don’t go.” He rolls me underneath him and gives me a drowsy, heavy-eyed, postsex kiss. “Need you here with me.”
“I was just going to ditch the condom and get a damp cloth so I could clean us up.”
“Later. I like being dirty with you.”
I flip over so we’re on our sides, face to face, chest to chest, muscular thigh to less muscular thigh. Sticky is a small price to pay for the feel of my boyfriend’s hard body on mine. For the steady drum of his heartbeat under my ear when I slide down a little lower to nuzzle the fine patch of hair between his pecs.
“Don’t worry, Puck Boy,” I say sleepily into his chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”
This is one show that’s never going to close.
28
Adam
Three weeks later
“Are you sure you want me to go with you? Won’t I get in the way?”
“Number one”—Kolby sets his hairbrush down, turns away from the mirror, and holds up a finger—“of course I want you there. I wouldn’t have gotten the part in this video if it wasn’t for those skating lessons.”
“I just barked instructions. You did all the hard work.”
“And number two”—a second finger joins the first—“You won’t be in the way. I got an email from the assistant director, and she said they could use a few more extras. Especially ones with your skills on the ice for the skating scene.”
“Wait, what?” I freeze with one leg halfway in my jeans, one out. “Being on camera was not part of the bargain. You’re the actor, not me.”
Kolby comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, pressing his bare chest to my bare back. There’s nothing I like better than being skin to skin with my guy, the heat of his body seeping into mine. But I can’t let that distract me. As much as I’d like to get naked with him—again—we don’t even have time for a quickie. He—or, if Kolby has his way, we—have to be on set in an hour.
“Aw, come on.” He kisses the sensitive spot where my shoulder meets my neck, sending a river of tingles down my spine. Damn him. He knows I can’t say no to him when he does that. “It’ll be fun, I promise. All you have to do is skate around in circles. You could do that in your sleep. And you’ll be in the background. Odds are you won’t even wind up on camera.”
I frown and reluctantly shrug out of his embrace so I can finish putting my pants on. “Then why do they even need me?”
