Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
He follows my orders, and I settle between his muscular thighs, then roam my eyes over his frame. Muscles for days. Gorgeous, tan skin. A smattering of chest hair. And all those carved abs, bisected by my favorite thing. An enticing line of hair, a trail leading to his cock.
Chris reaches down, wraps his hand around the base, offering his shaft to me, wet, leaking at the tip.
I nudge the bottle where he’s holding it, encouraging him to drink.
When he realizes what I’m offering, he makes a noise deep in his throat. “You gonna suck me while I’m drinking champagne?”
“When I win the World Series, you can return the favor,” I tease. But I can’t resist him any longer. I dip my face, swirl my tongue around the head, my eyes falling shut at that first heady, musky taste of him. He’s so tempting. I rub my beard along his thighs, rub my nose over his sac, and spend a good long time licking his cock, his balls.
For a while, the only sounds are my mouth on him and the occasional swig of champagne. And his encouragement, which grows from sentences to words to a strangled gasp as I take him in my throat.
I pull back, and he grabs himself in desperation.
“I’m not above begging,” Chris says, like a warning, as he thrusts the bottle onto the nightstand, grabbing the lube instead. “Seriously, just fuck me, Josh.”
Like I could deny Chris now.
“Since you asked nicely,” I tease. But I also really want to fuck my man.
He lies down and plants his feet wide on the bedspread, and tosses me the lube. “Want to feel you deep inside me,” he says. Making all his needs clear.
My dick twitches, hard and heavy between my legs. But my focus is on him, as I drizzle the lube in my hand, then get him ready. Chris has always been so easy in his body, so in tuned to who he is. To watch him losing his mind as I open him up, his ass bumping down on my fingers, is such a privilege.
When he’s sweating and panting, I set down the lube, grab a condom, and roll it on.
Chris pushes up on his elbows once more. Lifts his chin. “Kiss me,” he orders and that’s it.
That’s all.
I kiss him deeply, then I set my hands on his thighs, push his knees up and I take my time, slowly, slowly, pushing inside. With each inch, I lower my chest closer and he seeks me out, his hands raking through my hair, brushing it off my forehead. His eyes never leaving mine.
We connect. With bodies and champagne-soaked skin. With heartbeats and unspoken promises as we come together. But words are important, especially for two guys who haven't always used the right words at the right time.
“You good?” I ask.
“So good,” he murmurs.
“I want you, Chris. Again and again.”
He shifts against me in answer, eyes a wide, vulnerable blue. “You have me.”
Sometimes you do need words. True ones. Words that start turning this flirtation into the real thing.
As I sink all the way inside him, this feeling of utter rightness spreads through my body, fills my bones. Chris, with his face to the side of the pillow, lets me know what he wants. I bury my face in his neck, lavishing kisses all along his warm skin, his hard dick rubbing against my stomach. He stretches his neck, telling me without words to keep kissing.
We don’t fuck like the world is on fire. We fuck like we’ve got all the time we could ever want and like we don’t want any of this to end. I go deeper in him with each thrust and he pulls me closer, our champagne-slicked chests rubbing together, my mouth on his skin. Until he says, “Wait.”
I push up on my arms, bracing myself on my hands. “Everything okay?”
“I’ve got this fantasy,” he says, rough and gravelly.
“Oh you do?”
Chris tells me how he wants me, and I close my eyes as the intensity of that image flickers before me.
“Yes. Now. Fucking now,” I grunt.
We take a few seconds to maneuver around the bed so I’m on my back. He climbs over me, straddles me and lowers himself onto my shaft.
“Hold on to the headboard,” he says.
I reach back, wrapping my fingers around the slats, and I let him do all the work. Like that, he works me over with his ass, driving me out of my mind with pleasure. I can’t move and I don’t want to, my arms straining as I hold on to the bed.
He leans down, scraping his stubble against my neck. Pressing a hot kiss to my collarbone like he did in the parking lot all those months ago.
“How’s that feel?” he asks.
“So fucking good.” I feel shaken up like a champagne bottle, ready to pop. But I want him to come with me. I cast my gaze down to his thick cock, leaking.