Capture & Surrender (Market Garden, #5)(30)

Frank tried to concentrate on what Stefan was saying, except what Stefan was doing with his finger—oh, God, fingers now—distracted the hell out of him.

“They were notches on my marker barrel.” Stefan stretched Frank, probed him, kept drawing his attention away from Stefan’s words. “You’re different.”

“How . . .” Frank shivered as Stefan’s fingers bent inside him. “How so?”

“You—” Stefan leaned down and kissed him, still finger-f*cking him. When he broke the kiss, Stefan looked him right in the eye. “You were the only one I set my sights on before I went out on the field.”

Something in Stefan’s eyes told Frank to read between the lines, find some meaning he couldn’t quite comprehend yet. Hell, he could barely make sense of the superficial meaning, never mind anything beneath the surface.

“You got me.” He licked his lips. “What are you going to do with me?”

Stefan grinned. He kissed Frank again, then withdrew his fingers completely, and Frank thought he was going to lose it just knowing Stefan was about to f*ck him.

And Stefan was about to f*ck him, thank God. He sat up, and bit his lip as he guided himself to Frank. He pressed against him, but didn’t push in quite yet. His eyes flicked up. Met Frank’s. Locked on Frank’s.

Panic cooled Frank’s blood. Oh shit, he was hesitating. Backing off. Realising what he was doing and coming to his senses in the eleventh f*cking hour.

But then Stefan sucked in a breath, and his hips moved, and Frank moaned as that thick cock pressed into him. Breached him. Gradually, one slow, careful stroke at a time, pushed deeper. Stefan was thick and not lacking in length either, but Frank’s body yielded to him, and as Stefan buried himself all the way inside Frank, they both shuddered.

Stefan leaned down to kiss him. Frank wrapped his arms around Stefan’s hot, still-wet body, and the two of them eased into a smooth, slow rhythm. This wasn’t what he’d expected—he’d anticipated violence and powerful thrusting and damaged furniture—but he loved it. Feeling Stefan’s skin against his, feeling the man moving slowly and perfectly inside him, it was amazing. Far beyond what he’d imagined.

Stefan broke the kiss and pushed himself up on his arms. He watched himself f*ck Frank, and then met Frank’s eyes again. His expression was . . . different. Still hungry, still sexy as f*ck, but Frank swore he was seeing a whole different side of Stefan. A layer that had been hidden since the beginning, beneath masks and smirks and that cocky attitude. His eyebrows were pulled together, his forehead creased, his lips slightly parted as he tried to catch his breath while he picked up speed. Frank touched his cheek, and Stefan closed his eyes and rubbed against Frank’s hand.

Then he opened his eyes again and shifted onto one hand. As Stefan reached between them, every muscle in Frank’s body contracted with anticipation, and he groaned as Stefan’s fingers closed around his cock. He wasn’t going to last. No way. His orgasm was moments, if not seconds away, especially as Stefan thrust into him harder.

Frank forced his eyes to focus, quickly scanned Stefan’s abs and chest and arm—f*ck, he’s gorgeous—in search of any cuts or scrapes that might be in the line of fire, but saw none, and closed his eyes again.

“Oh God. I’m gonna . . .” Frank paused, searching for some goddamned breath. “Please tell me I can come.”

Stefan gave a soft laugh. “I never said you couldn’t while I’m f*cking you.”

That was all Frank needed. His back arched, his body tensed, and as he came, Stefan made a soft, helpless sound, and then groaned and f*cked Frank hard, abandoning slow and easy for desperate and demanding, if only for a few quick, uneven strokes.

“Holy shit.” Stefan dropped onto his forearm. “Fuck, man . . .”

Frank laughed, really laughed, because the situation was just so precious—he should have been worried about scrapes or cuts, should worry about his cum, should maybe freak out, but he couldn’t get over how amazing this had been. How this hot guy had rolled right through his defences, and they were both . . . he couldn’t even put it into words. This was good. He’d wanted Stefan so bad, wanted him again soon, even though he hadn’t even yet managed to pull his dick out, let alone build up enough arousal to put it back in, and here they were, both not strangers to sex, and it was all so heartfelt and raw and good.

“Hope you’re not laughing at me.”

He kissed Stefan again, his lips, his cheeks, his forehead, pulled him close and felt himself and Stefan breathe together, like nothing else mattered.

And nothing else did.

“You were laughing at me.”

Which made Frank laugh again. He kissed him, and it all felt so tender and caring it hurt in his chest. “No. Just . . . I needed this so badly. You’d think for one who makes a living that way . . .” I’d be more jaded. But I’m not. This feels entirely different.

“Know what? More for me.” Stefan pulled back enough to slip out, then traced a line through a drop of Frank’s cum, and their gazes met because Frank was sure he’d shuddered.

“Maybe . . .” Frank inhaled deeply, but that mellow post-orgasm haze helped him gather his courage. “Will likely kill the mood, but just saying . . .”

Stefan shook his head. “Nothing I haven’t heard before.”