What He Left Behind(26)
He breaks the kiss just enough to murmur, “Anything he needs.”
“Noted.” I nudge him toward the doorway. “Tonight? Anything you need.”
“Good. Because right now, I need the same thing he does.”
His kiss ends the conversation but fills in what he left unspoken:
I need you.
Chapter Eight
On the way up to Michael’s apartment, my pulse is already pounding and my palms have been damp since I left work.
Please, please, let this go well. Michael deserves it.
I reach for the knob, but the door opens.
And I meet Michael’s gaze.
He grins. His eyes are gleaming and narrow, as if he’s been plotting and scheming.
Oh f*ck. It’s going to be a good night, isn’t it?
He closes the door behind us.
I shrug off my jacket. “You’re in a good mood.”
“Yep. I am.” And just like that, he’s against me, kissing me.
My jacket falls forgotten to the floor. We stumble back into the wall, and Michael’s kissing me like he did way back when. Breathlessly, passionately, telegraphing loud and clear that he wants it and he wants it right now. But how much can he handle?
“Bedroom,” he murmurs. “I can’t wait.”
He takes my hand, and we hurry down the hall to his bedroom. As soon as we cross that threshold, he’s in my arms again. Fuck, this must be a good sign.
“T-tell me what you want to—”
“I want you to f*ck me.”
I freeze. “Michael, are you—”
“Please. I want… God, I want you so bad.”
“But are—”
His kiss answers me. Still…
“Are you sure you don’t want to top me first?” I moisten my lips. “Small steps?”
“I’m sure. I’ve been thinking about this all day.” He rubs against my hand—f*ck, he’s already hard as a rock.
Goose bumps prickle beneath my shirt. “Have you?”
“All day.”
“Well then.” I pull him in and kiss the side of his neck. “Who am I to deny you something you’ve been fantasizing about?”
Michael shivers. “Please.”
“Then why do you still have clothes on?”
Without missing a beat, he pulls back. His shirt is off before I can even start on mine. We strip down to nothing, and all the while, my heart’s going crazy—I had expected this to be a long process, but after just one night together and a reassuring conversation with Ian, he’s ready to move this far forward? God, yes.
We climb onto his bed, hands and mouths all over each other, and my head is spinning faster and faster. Now that I have his body against mine, I’m as impatient as he is. I could make out with him all night, stroke him and tease him and turn him inside out, but I want him now.
I kiss my way up his neck, and then sit up. “Get on your knees.”
Michael starts to turn around but stops. He closes his eyes. Breathes slowly. Deeply.
I touch his shoulder, and he flinches. Subtly but unmistakably. “Michael? You okay?”
“Yeah. Sorry.” He shakes his head. “It happens sometimes. Just spaced out for a second. I’m good.”
I raise my eyebrows. “We can slow down.”
“No! I want to keep going. I’m good.”
The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. I don’t want to second guess him and undermine his confidence, but I also don’t want to push him too far.
Michael faces me fully and curves a hand around the side of my neck. “I want this.” He kisses me, and there’s that boldness again—he pushes my lips apart, explores my mouth, teases my tongue. Then he touches his forehead to mine. “I’m okay. I promise.”
I hesitate but finally nod. “Turn around.”
Another shiver runs through him, and he grins. After one long, knee-shaking kiss, he turns around.
Heart thumping, I run my hand over his beautiful ass and up his narrow waist. The thought of being inside him is more than enough to send my body temperature soaring.
I put some lube on my fingers first. As I press my fingertip against him, he exhales slowly, and he curses under his breath.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Just really, really want you to f*ck me. Like, now.”
I grin. “I will. After I tease you a little.”
“Fucker,” he mutters.
I laugh, and some of the tension in my neck and shoulders eases—his sense of humor is intact, so maybe he really is ready for this.
I tease his anus with a lubed fingertip. He groans and lets his head fall forward. Teasing him drives me as crazy as it does him, and this view is just…beautiful. His muscles, his freckles—I could stare at him all day. The only way this view could get any better is with my dick sliding in and out of him.
“Josh,” he moans. “Fuck me.”
With pleasure.
I gently press my finger into him, but it takes work. Even when we were both doing this for the first time, back when we were nervous kids, he wasn’t this tense. Or maybe I just don’t remember. Either way, he hasn’t been touched in years, so I take my time. He slowly yields to my finger, though it’s still a tight fit.