Page 27

I burst out laughing. “I was kidding. I didn’t even know there really is a Make-Out Point.”

“I mean, there’s a spot, yeah. But I know somewhere better.” He grinned over at me and squeezed my thigh. “You’ll see what I mean when we get there, muffin.”

***

He was right. This was the perfect spot, mainly because we were completely alone. Not another car or house or person for miles.

We were on a smallish cliff that overlooked the town, with the ocean stretching all the way to the horizon just beyond it. Everything glittered, the tiny headlights of cars flashing in and out of view as they drove between toy-sized buildings with windows that glowed a soft, warm gold. There were trees surrounding us from the back, with just the narrow dirt trail Elliot had directed me down cutting through them.

It felt safe here. Secluded. We really were completely alone, and I’d never been more relaxed in my life. I could just be. I didn’t have to worry about making sure I acted a certain way, not looking at certain people for too long, or pretending I wasn’t desperate to touch and look at Elliot every single second I was with him. He knew the parts of me no one else did. He was safe. He was like a dream come to life.

The first thing we did once I’d cut the engine was to make out for a stupidly long time. Elliot unbuckled his seat belt immediately and scrambled over, climbing into my lap to straddle me. His long limbs made it a little awkward at first—the front seat of a car was not exactly designed for two fully grown dudes—but neither of us cared.

After long minutes of deep, endless kisses, we were both hard and leaking in our jeans, hips grinding to try and find some friction. Without breaking the kiss for even a second, Elliot reached between us and began undoing buttons, yanking down zippers and tugging on tight denim until finally, those long, narrow fingers were once again smoothing their way around my shaft, stroking and caressing me with mind-numbingly soft touches as he moaned helplessly into my mouth. Or maybe that was me.

With his other hand, he pulled his own cock out far less reverently and pinned both of us together in his fist. The kiss finally came to an end when my head fell back against the car seat, heavy from the overwhelming sensation I hadn’t stopped thinking about, hadn’t stopped craving since last night. A guttural groan tore from my throat, tinged with pure relief. It already felt more natural, more wholly right, when I could feel his skin against mine than it did when I couldn’t.

He dipped his head to kiss me again, tongue plunging inside, almost fucking my mouth in time with his fist stroking both of us together. This time, I made sure to touch him as much as I could. I cupped his face, feeling his sharp jaw working under my fingers from the drugging thrusts of his tongue. I pushed his leather jacket off his shoulders, and he wriggled out of it eagerly so I could run my hands down his arms and feel the lean muscles there, the gentle curves of his biceps and sinewy forearms. I ran my hands all over his thighs, around to his denim-clad ass. I greedily skimmed my palms up the length of his back, beneath the cropped hem of his tank to his shoulder blades, then back down to the waistband of his jeans and the worn leather belt threaded through its loops. I moaned and strained my hips up uncontrollably when I smoothed a hand over his tight stomach and used my thumb to play with the ring piercing his navel. Elliot moaned too, hips bucking to slide his cock against mine.

I was leaking copiously once again, enough to make both our cockheads slippery. When we stopped kissing, both of us panting too hard and fast to keep it up, I tilted my head down so I could see his cock pressed tight against mine again. This time, though, Elliot was on top of me. Straddling me. His hips were moving, rolling, almost like he was riding my dick, and the sight of it made me let out a helpless, strained sound.

Through lust-glazed eyes, I stared down at our pinned cocks. At his flushed and shiny cockhead slipping against mine. At the tiny slit at the tip, its very edges a slightly deeper pink and glistening from the bead of pre-cum welling before my eyes. I could see his cock so much better than I’d been able to last night. It was closer now, thanks to our position. My hand began to move, fingers trailing down from his bellybutton, over his lower belly, then brushing through the small patch of trimmed dark hair at the base of his cock.

Elliot started breathing harder and faster. His hand stuttered for a second around our lengths, but he kept stroking. I bypassed his pumping fist, and Elliot whimpered just before I smoothed a fingertip over his leaking slit. Round and round in tiny, slippery circles, spreading the slick wetness, feeling a thin thread of it sticking to my finger when I briefly pulled it away to tap his slit lightly, just once.

Elliot’s entire body tensed up in a rush on top of me, and he cried out as the first white ribbon of cum jetted into the scant space between us, just missing the side of my finger. His hips jerked and his fingers tightened around both of us. I stared, enthralled, watching spurt after spurt stream from the tip of him to splatter over his fist and the back of my hand. I could feel it. Feel the pulse of him under my fingertip with each release. Feel the root of him flex against me, a heavy throb in his cock that my own began to mirror.

My hand fell to the side and I gripped his hip hard as my own orgasm hit me like a cannonball. It slammed into me, fast and intense, then seemed to slow down and lengthen like time was doing me a solid by letting me feel it for longer. Each spurt of cum felt like a heavy, pounding pulse inside me, a giant heartbeat that filled my entire body. Bliss rushed under my skin and my scalp tingled and numbed. I could hear myself groaning and gasping, but everything sounded like it was from a distance, until I came back to my body in a jarring rush when it all ended.

We were both breathing hard, our chests heaving, and the car windows had steamed up completely. Elliot’s hand was trembling as it kept our softening cocks pinned together, as though he was reluctant to separate us. I got it. I didn’t want that either. With a soft sound, he cupped the side of my neck with his free hand and crushed his mouth to mine.

The kiss was hot and deep, but still slow and tender. It was everything. The perfect way for us both to come down from the high, to recover, until we were ready to do it all over again.

Chapter Fourteen

Ricky

Once our breathing had steadied and our hearts were no longer thundering in our chests, Elliot gave me one last soft kiss and dropped back into the passenger seat with a sated groan. I reached over to open the glove compartment and handed him some napkins that were stashed in there, keeping one for myself. He thanked me, and we both quickly cleaned up before refastening our pants.

I rolled my window down an inch to let some fresh air in and cool down the interior. Elliot handed me the huge slushie cup so he could stretch over the center console to reach for the paper bag on the back seat. I almost started drooling at the sight of his pale stomach under the hem of his crop top, the lean muscles tight from the stretch, the little ring in his belly button winking with each tiny movement. When I saw a hint of his pubic hair as his jeans rode indecently low on his hips, I had to stifle a moan. But I couldn’t stop myself from swiftly dipping down to press a kiss to his bare stomach, which made Elliot jolt a little and laugh as he sat back in his seat, placing the bag in his lap.

“Snack time.” He pulled out both bags of chips, passed me one and ripped into the other. Within seconds, he was shoveling a handful into his mouth and speaking around them. “How was work today? We didn’t get to talk before you left. Liz wanted to talk to me about organizing the work schedule.”

I made a face, because I was now remembering that awful conversation with Brett this morning. I wished I could’ve called it an argument, but he was so damn obnoxious that he’d barely even argued back. Which just made the whole thing more annoying.

I sighed and filled Elliot in, telling him everything. How weird it had been when Brett had initially acted like nothing had happened, and how much weirder it had become when he’d done it again, just a couple of hours after our heated words. When he couldn’t even blame his forgetfulness on alcohol or anything.

“It is so freaking creepy.” I shook my head, biting down on a strawberry rope. “It’s almost like he’s having a separate conversation to the one that’s actually happening. Like he makes himself hear something totally different to what you’re saying, because it’s not what he wanted you to say.”

Elliot laughed while he unwrapped a chocolate bar. “Yeah, it’s like trying to teach algebra to a dog, right? He’s looking at you, and it seems like he’s listening, but you know there’s nothing really happening behind the eyes. None of it’s going in.”

I snorted at the analogy, even though the reality was kind of depressing, mostly because he was right. Then again, Brett seemed more manipulative than that, so maybe not. But I didn’t want to ruin our night by talking about him any longer than necessary. He’d already almost ruined our evening yesterday.

I asked Elliot how his day had been in the other kitchen and how closing had gone, and tried our monster slushie as I listened to his husky voice. Every now and then I held out the cup to him, and he’d pause for as long as it took to take a long, slurping sip, then carry on talking. My lips were tilted into a languid smile around the straw as I leaned my head on the rest behind me and watched him.

Now that he was even closer, and I had the luxury of staring at him as much as I wanted without worrying about anyone finding it odd, I was able to catalog even more details that I banked in my memory to revisit later. He was wearing an earring—a little cartoon-style bone on a silver chain that brushed the hinge of his jaw whenever he tilted his head to the side while he talked. There were a couple of silver rings on his fingers, the metal pitted and scratched, and his nails were painted black. Around his neck was a tangle of silver chains, and the flash of them drew my gaze to the bob of his Adam’s apple in his slender throat as he spoke. It was prominent. Masculine. I wanted to feel it moving under my lips and tongue. I wanted to know how it dipped and jumped when I made him moan.

He was so devastatingly hot that it made my teeth hurt. It wasn’t the candy. It wasn’t even the tooth-meltingly sweet slushie. It was him. I was so attracted to him that my body didn’t fully know how to express it or what a suitable outlet was when I wasn’t able to get my hands all over him or kiss him endlessly or feel him coming against me.