Page 97 of Spiced!

Jesus, he’s beautiful, was all my mind could muster.

He shoved me onto the couch, lifted my legs, and leaned over so his entire form hovered above me. I could feel his cock against my balls, pulsing and sliding and grinding. His gaze never left mine.

Our lips crashed together.

My hands gripped his triceps.

His fingers dug into my scalp.

Our cocks slammed together as his weight pinned me down.

I ground against him.

He ground against me.

I leaked.

He leaked more.

The slickness made us grind harder and faster.

Our kisses grew hungrier, deeper, so ravenous I could barely think.

Then he slid his body down.

I felt his cock slip between my cheeks.

I spread my legs, willing him in, granting him access.

His slickness teased my hole.

“I fucking want you, Adrian,” I growled.

He pressed against me, his head almost poking inside but stopping.

I could feel him pulsing, begging for entry.

Still, he didn’t move.

“Bedroom, now,” he said as he stood and extended a hand.

Like giddy teens, we practically ran into his bedroom. I barely noticed the maroon wall or the lava lamp in the corner or the tapestry covering one wall. The moment I made it into his room, he slammed his door shut, turned, and tossed me onto the bed.

Then he was on me again.

Kissing.

Thrusting.

Rubbing.

Gripping.

“Adrian, damn it, get inside me.”

I heard ripping, then he sat up enough for me to watch him dribble lube onto his condom-covered cock. He squirted some lube into his palm and slid that between my legs.

“Oh, shit, that’s cold.”