He drops me onto the bed, the mattress bouncing under the weight as he crawls on top of me. His gaze sweeps over my face slowly as his thumb traces my jawline.
“Have I ever mentioned how much I love your glasses?” he asks.
I swallow. “No.”
“Well, I do. They’re so fucking sexy.”
I shut my eyes. I can’t look at him when says things like this. It’s too much.
His palm slips under my shirt, warm and slow. He tugs at the hem, and I lift enough for him to peel it off. Cold air prickles my skin, making my nipples perk up. He sits back on his heels, stripping his own shirt.
My eyes catch on his chest, the canvas of muscle and sheen of sweat. Lower, the unmistakable bulge pressing against his jeans. My brain short-circuits at the thought thatI’mthe reason he’s hard.
He grinds down against me, letting me feel the outline of his rigid cock, but it’s not enough. He fumbles with the button of my shorts, kissing down my bare chest before catching my nipple between his teeth. I gasp, arching into it, my dick twitching.
He yanks down my shorts to free my cock. He strokes me gently, thumbing over the slit to draw out a bead of precome.
“Mason,” I groan, desperate for more.
“Turn over,” he instructs in a low, sultry tone.
A shiver rattles through me as I flip onto my stomach. He palms my ass, pressing his crotch against me, letting me feel him. I groan and push back eagerly.
He hovers over me and presses a kiss between my shoulder blades. His mouth trails down my spine, pausing to leave a kiss at every vertebrae. He seems to be in no hurry at all.
“I love your tattoo,” he murmurs, giving it a soft peck.
I whimper in response, unable to form words.
“So pretty,” he purrs, his breath hot against my skin.
His nose nudges between my cheeks, and I let out a helpless, high-pitched sound. He spreads me open, cool air washing over my skin.
“Do you like getting eaten out?” he asks, his mouth hovering over my hole.
My eyes squeeze shut. I bury my face into the mattress, refusing to look at him. God, this is so embarrassing.
“I- I don’t know,” I admit, voice muffled.
“You don’t know?”
I turn my face, eyes still closed. “I’ve never… tried it.”
He pauses. “Nobody’s ever done this to you?”
My throat tightens. I refuse to tell him I’ve only been with one guy before him, and that eating my ass definitely wasn’t an option on the table. I’d brought it up to Travis once, which had been a mistake. He’d scowled at me and told me it was disgusting—that the thoughtof doing it repulsed him.
I feel myself shaking my head.
“That’s a shame,” he says, clicking his tongue. “An ass this pretty deserves to be worshipped.”
It takes every fiber of self-control to stop myself from humping the mattress. I’m embarrassingly close to coming, and he’s barely touched me.
“Can I?” he asks gently, squeezing my hip.
I let out a shaky breath. “You don’t have to.”
“Iwantto. Please, let me make you feel good, Hunter.”
