A Warm Heart in Winter(74)

“Yes, absolutely,” he murmured in response. “And let me get off your shoulder, it’s going to go numb.”

Lifting his head, he repositioned the heavy arm he’d been leaning on. As he arranged the limb down at Qhuinn’s side and the male didn’t move, Blay was reminded of the times he’d found Rhamp in a tangle in his crib, face mashed up against the slats, butt in the air, one arm kinked under his body.

As he brought over the pillow he usually used and crammed it under his ear, he stared at Qhuinn.

And worried about what Luchas had tucked away.

If there was one thing Blay had learned about life in Caldwell, there was always another shoe to drop. And a lot of times, it landed on your head.





Hands.

Hands were moving over Blay’s body.

Wait . . . maybe it was only one. And he knew whose it was.

His and Qhuinn’s bedroom was dark, the lights having been willed off at some point, and Blay was lying on his stomach. Next to him, Qhuinn was on his side . . . and the male’s sensuous palm was traveling across Blay’s lower back and sneaking around his opposite hip. With a groan, Blay rolled to his side, his ass finding the front of Qhuinn’s pelvis—and the erection that was there.

Maybe this was a dream.

Maybe this . . . which he’d missed for so long . . . was just something his mind had constructed out of sad desperation—

“Is this okay,” Qhuinn said in his ear.

“Oh, God . . .” Blay arched back and rubbed against that arousal. “Please.”

“I thought I was dreaming.”

“So did I.”

They were both fully clothed and lying on top of the covers—where they had been when Qhuinn had meant to take a catnap, and Blay had intended on staying awake and worrying about things he couldn’t change. No more sleeping now, though.

And for the very best reason.

As Qhuinn arched over, all bonded male, his lips brushed the side of Blay’s neck, and then came the fangs, slowly going up his jugular. Twisting his torso, Blay turned his head—and then they were kissing proper, all tongues, and moaning, and breath coming fast . . . while that hand, oh, that hand, found Blay’s erection and started to stroke over the fly of his slacks.

Overcome, Blay reared back once again, grinding his ass on Qhuinn until the male cursed low.

“I’m supposed to take it slow,” Qhuinn grunted.

“Says who?”

“Oh . . . fuck . . .”

The next thing Blay knew, he was being handled roughly—the way he liked. He was shoved on his back, and then Qhuinn straddled his hips, the male’s massive body looming in the darkness. With an erotic surge, Blay willed on a lamp across the room, and he was not disappointed with what he saw. His mate was fully aroused, Qhuinn’s eyes burning, his face flushed, his huge shoulders blocking out the illumination.

Oh, and then there was the erection tenting up the front of his track bottoms.

“I’m going to fuck you,” Qhuinn growled.

Blay’s eyes rolled back. “Now. God, now—”

Harsh hands all but demolished his Hermès belt as the thing was whipped out of its loops. And then his fly was treated with no better regard, dragged down roughly with a jerk.

“Do you give a shit about these pants?” Qhuinn asked harshly.

Actually, they were Blay’s favorite pair. He’d put them on to cheer himself up. “Not at all—”

Qhuinn’s hands clamped on the two sides and he yanked the front apart, the fabric tearing—

Before Blay could start begging, Qhuinn’s mouth was right where he wanted it to be, the male sucking his cock, head going up and down, massive arms bowed out on either side. Blay splayed his legs wide and dug his hands into that thick black-and-purple hair. Pumping his hips, he closed his eyes and gave himself up to the pleasure.

Like the reconciliation and the letter-reading, he hadn’t expected this. And one thing continued to be true. Sex with his mate was the great eraser. Even with how scrambled his brain was, this made everything recede. All he knew was Qhuinn.

Well, Qhuinn’s mouth, specifically.

Popping his lids, Blay lifted his head. His shirt was all wedged up his abs, his pants were nothing but the leg parts, and his mate was—

Blay let out an animalistic sound as Qhuinn’s mouth retracted and the tip of Blay’s erection popped out from between those lips. Then it was a case of that tongue extending and that piercing flashing silver in the low light. The flicking was unbelievable, every slip and tickle going through to Blay’s sac.

He didn’t last long.

And that was clearly his lover’s plan. Qhuinn opened wide and sucked it all down, taking the shaft and the head, the orgasms, everything. After the release was over? Blay’s hips kept pumping into that mouth, over and over again.

Until it was suddenly a very different position.

Without warning, Qhuinn flipped him over onto his stomach, dragged his hips up, and—

The contact was wet and slick, and Blay totally fucking lost it. And then the penetration—deep and thick, plunging in and retreating. Driving in again. Pulling out.

Faster, harder, as Blay kicked the pillows out of the way and bore down into the sex, giving it all up to his mate. To keep himself in place as the onslaught intensified, he gripped the edge of the headboard and worked with the rhythm, hanging on and then pushing back, and hanging on and pushing back.