“Mm-mm.” Words are fucking impossible right now.
We reach for each other at the same time. My hand closes around George’s cock. It feels massive, so thick my fingers barely meet, so long I have to adjust my grip or risk straining my wrist. George’s hand closes around mine, and I moan loudly at the feel of his rough palm on me. We start stroking each other, eyes locked on the cocks in our fists, jerking each other off right there on the couch like we have both been dying to do it.
My pulse kicks hard, a sudden violent thud that knocks everything slightly out of focus. Heat floods through me so fast my vision blurs.
I’m aware of too many things at once.
Holloway slides two fingers into Adrian’s mouth, pressing down on his tongue as Adrian sucks on them, moaning around the digits. His ass jiggles with every bounce, the firm cheeks slapping loud and wet against Holloway’s thighs.
I’ve shifted so close to George there’s no space left between us. I’m restless as hell, unsettled, while I watch Adrian and Holloway devour each other with that raw, devoted hunger. I don’t have enough of George on me. I need more of him right now.
“George,” I call out, almost pleading.
He turns his head down and really looks at me. “Tell me what you want,” he whispers.
I swallow, breathless. “Can we try the basics now?”
George holds my gaze for a long second. “You sure?”
I nod, no hesitation. With the way tonight has gone and everything already pushed this far, I know if I don’t say it now I might not get the chance again while it still feels possible.
“Come here.”
The words come out of George’s mouth in that low register he probably saves for moments like this. It carries weight, like he already has his hands on me before I’ve even moved.
George looks at me like he’s about to eat me alive. His jaw is clenched tight, eyes burning into mine like I’m the only thing in the room that matters.
Our chests brush as our heads angle toward each other. He’s close enough that I can see the way his beard follows the sharp line of his jaw. We let go of each other’s cocks, leaving them hard and heavy between us.
This is actually happening.
I can’t look at his eyes because it’s too intense, so I look at his mouth instead. What a bad idea. His lips are slightly parted, the lower one fuller. I feel him breathe in.
I lean in and kiss him.
The kiss lands mostly right. My mouth finds his and there’s a brief second of soft contact before my brain completely shuts down because this is George. His lips are warm. A soft sigh escapes him the moment we touch. I try to deepen it but it comes out clumsy, too tentative, the angle slightly off, my nose bumping his.
I pull back and laugh, because the alternative is panicking and losing face. “Okay. That was terrible. I’m better than this normally, I swear.”
George doesn’t laugh. He grabs my chin, fingers firm and demanding against my jaw. His thumb presses down on my lower lip, prying my mouth open. He pauses for a single heated beat, then yanks my face back to his and kisses me like a starving man.
He claims my mouth like he owns it. I fucking melt. His hand fists into my hair, gripping hard, locking me in place while histongue pushes deep, stroking and invading. The rough pull on my scalp and the wet heat of his tongue against mine wipe every thought from my head.
The sound I make is involuntary and unhinged. I don’t even try to hold it back.
His beard scratches my chin. His chest is heavy and hard against mine. My hands roam over him, greedy, mapping the hard muscle underneath. He feels so fucking real and so much.
“G,” I manage to rasp between breaths.
He makes a low, guttural sound I feel vibrate through my chest. He pulls me closer, fingers tightening in my hair as we devour each other. His mouth is devastating. I’ve kissed people I thought were good at this. It turns out I’ve been wrong all this time because none of them were him.
George Torres-Macklin is a goddamn revelation of a kisser. Someone needs to study this man in a lab because this level of kissing should come with a warning label, and possibly a priest. Nothing prepared me for this—not movies or porn, not even the worst corners of the internet. He’s on a completely different tier.
We finally break apart because we need air. Somehow I’m straddling his lap now, hands fisted tight in his shirt. I don’t remember moving. I’m pressed against him everywhere and it’s still not enough. His chest is hard muscle under my palms. His thick arms wrap around me, caging me in.
“That,” I say, breathing hard, “was not human.”
George looks up at me, eyes dark and burning. He licks his lips slowly, staring at my mouth like he’s seconds from dragging me back in.
