“Leo.” He sounds strange, like he’s worried.
“Are you okay?”
His teeth dig into his lower lip, and he shakes his head, then swallows heavily. “Yeah, but…I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t,” I say quickly, though that’s probably going to be a lie. I can barely twitch without pain, but that doesn’t matter when this feels so good. I want him so badly I ache. “Please kiss me again.”
He looks uncertain, and I hate that. I hate that he’s unsure of himself. I hate that he doesn’t realize how fucking good he is, even if he’s unpracticed. “Can we…should we…” He trails off for a second, then says, “Maybe the bed would be better?”
I hate the idea of moving again, but I love the idea of having space for us both. “Can you help me there?”
“Anything you need,” he murmurs, and something tells me he means it.
NINETEEN
NORTH
Leo is in my bed,and he’s got his arms around me and his tongue in my mouth. He’s guiding me in the ways he likes to be kissed: gently and carefully. He shows me where my hands should touch, how hard to press down, and when to pull back.
I have never paid closer attention to anything ever in my life. Not the way I’m paying attention to him. I’m going to get a PhD in how to make Leo see God by the time I’m done with him.
He moans softly as I rock my hips against his thigh, and my fingers drag down his naked torso, past the waistband of the soft pajama pants that are tented by his dick before sliding back up.
There’s a wet spot now from where he’s leaking, and I’m just grateful my boxers are black because I think I’d probably be mortified by how much precome has been dribbling out of me.
It’s like a fucking fountain of want, and I know the moment my bare skin touches his, it’ll be over. I won’t be able to hold back. He’s everything I’d ever fantasized about wanting in a man, and things I didn’t know I could want.
This doesn’t compare to what we had before—the stolen moments full of anger when I was taking what I could get because I was so sure he wouldn’t want me any other way. Andnow, knowing that he’s in this—that he’s into me—it’s like a fucking drug.
He’s so patient with me, and for the first time ever, I don’t feel like some moss-green virgin loser who has no idea what he’s doing. Every kiss, every touch, every thrust against him, and he moans like he’s in heaven.
And I’m the one responsible for making him feel that way.
My fingers skitter down his torso, down to his exposed stomach, where I see most of his scars from his fall. They’re not like mine. They’re thick and jagged, and I can tell they bother him from the way he tries to roll away from me.
“Let me touch you,” I beg.
He stares into my eyes for a moment, and then he nods. “Yeah. Okay.”
I kiss down his sternum, teeth grazing, leaving a trail of spit, and I come to a stop just above his belly button. I’d seen it before—it’s surrounded by dark hair, rounded outward—and just before I can put my mouth there, he covers it.
“I know it’s weird,” he murmurs.
I climb back up toward his face and take his chin between my fingers. “Nothing about you is weird. Nothing about you is unattractive.”
His swallow catches in his throat. “I’ve been told?—”
“Fuck anyone who ever made you feel like you were unworthy,” I bite, cutting off his words. “They didn’t deserve you. If you don’t want me touching you there, I won’t, but I like your body. All of your body.”
He breathes slowly and steadily through his nose, then threads his fingers into my hair and guides my mouth down. “Please,” he whispers softly.
I pay his scars attention, and his little round belly button attention. Then I start to kiss back upward, pausing at eachnipple and sucking there until he’s begging with soft, sobbing moans.
Going up onto my knees, I lean over him, dropping my mouth over his in a hard, messy kiss. His tongue is warm and demanding, and I let him guide me more—making sure I pay every ounce of attention to what he wants.
His fingers brush over my chest, and when they find the silicone rings in my nipples, he grabs and tugs, making me moan right into his mouth.
“Good?” he asks against my lips.
