What He Left Behind(22)

“You okay?”

“Y-yeah.” He swallows, then brushes his lips across mine. “Just nerves.”

“We don’t have to go any further than this.”

“This is a lot further than you might think.”

I run my hands up his back. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

Michael licks his lips. “Give me your hand.” He grabs the bottle and pours some oil onto my palm. Then he guides my hand down between us and under his waistband, and he wraps my fingers around his dick. Instinctively, I start stroking, my slippery hand sliding easily up and down the thick shaft and the head.

Michael groans softly.

I squeeze a little. Twist a little. Squeeze again. “Like that?”

“Mmhmm.” He closes his eyes and exhales. “Oh f*ck.”

With every stroke, my thumb rubs along the underside of my cock through our clothes.

“Sit up a little,” I murmur. “Clothes are…in the way.”

Michael hesitates for a heartbeat, but then he lifts himself up. I push my boxers down just far enough to get them out of the way, and to my surprise, Michael does the same. When he comes down again, his cock rubs against mine, and we both groan as I close my hand around our cocks. I can’t get my hand all the way around, but it’s enough, and judging by the way Michael whimpers and starts rocking back and forth, he agrees. He f*cks into my hand and against my cock, and I stroke us both, falling into perfect sync with the motion of his hips.

“Is this good?” I ask anyway.

“Oh yeah.” He sweeps his tongue across his lips. “D-don’t know if I can come, but—”

“You don’t have to come,” I breathe. “Nobody does. Does it feel good?”

“Very.”

“That’s all that matters.” I kiss him softly and add, “I just want you to feel good.”

“I do feel good.” His lips graze mine. “This is… Holy f*ck…”

“Perfect. Then don’t…stop.”

Michael kisses me hard, and he doesn’t stop. There isn’t as much oil now, and the friction is getting more intense. I’m about to ask if he’s okay or if he wants to add more, but then he moans and thrusts even harder.

With a shudder, he breaks the kiss and lets his head fall beside mine. I swear to God, his shudder echoes right through my body, curling my toes and lifting my spine off the bed. My eyes won’t focus. My mind is a mess. All I can think of is please, please, don’t stop, and Michael isn’t stopping. We’ve fallen into a perfect rhythm, his hips and my hand moving together like they were made for this, and holy shit.

“Fuck,” I whisper. “Keep doing that and I’m gonna come.”

“Good.” He keeps doing that, and my orgasm’s not stopping for anything, and when my breath catches, Michael thrusts even harder, and just like that, I’m coming. And coming. And coming.

“OhmyGod,” I murmur. “Jesus, Michael.”

And suddenly he throws his head back and groans. His rhythm falls to pieces, and God only knows whose semen is whose anymore, and who the f*ck cares. He trembles and jerks, and then he releases a long, ragged breath and sinks down on top of me.

For a moment, we’re just still, holding each other and catching our breath. Michael’s arms shake as he pushes himself up, but when our eyes meet, we both smile.

“That was a hell of a massage,” I whisper.

He laughs, and I love that sound even more than his moans and gasps. He leans down to kiss me. “Guess we got a happy ending, didn’t we?”

Chuckling, I nod. “Yeah. Guess we did.”

One more kiss, and then he rolls off me and grabs some tissues from the nightstand. After we’ve kicked off our boxers and cleaned ourselves up, we pull the covers over us.

Michael turns on his side, facing me, and I mirror him. He cups my cheek. “That really was amazing.”

I kiss his palm and smile. “Glad you enjoyed it.”

He smiles but then turns serious. As his thumb traces my cheekbone, he says, “I can’t thank you enough. I know we didn’t go very far tonight, but”—the smile slowly returns—“I’m suddenly a lot more optimistic that we’ll get there.”

Me too. I haven’t breathed this easily since we had lunch the other day.

I smooth his hair. “Same here. And I don’t have any complaints about how far we made it tonight. Do you?”

“Not at all.”

“Good.”

He rests his head on my shoulder, and I kiss his forehead.

Tonight went better than I’d expected. On the other hand, we kept it pretty safe and benign. Sex is a minefield for him, and though I don’t know where all the mines are, I’m fairly certain this will get more challenging as we go. Something is making him shy away from oral sex. I’d bet good money that anal isn’t going to be easy either. Somewhere between here and being fully confident, there’s a conference room full of well-meaning coworkers ready to send him into a tailspin.

But this is a step, and it’s a promising one.

I’ll take it.





Chapter Seven


Ever since Ian and I bought this house four years ago, we’ve had a weekly tradition of hanging out in the hot tub with Michael on Sunday nights. We started out getting together to watch movies, but after giving in to the siren’s call of the tub several times in a row, we decided to skip the movies altogether.