Everything for You (Bergman Brothers #5)(71)

And for the first time in so fucking long, I feel safe enough to give it up, to hand it to him—to let him carry everything for once. How this will happen, the ways we’ll learn each other and find pleasure.

“And this?” he asks, holding my eyes as he massages my neck gently, then my shoulder.

I nod. My voice is a croak, as I tell him, “Yes.”

He smiles faintly, bending, kissing me. “Good.”

My arm curls around his back, pulling him close as he drifts his hand across my chest. He bends, licks my nipple, first one, then the other. My head rolls back as he kisses my throat, soft lips, warm breath, his hand drifting down my stomach, kneading sore muscles at my sides, then gently teasing along my waistband.

I grit my teeth as he bypasses my cock entirely and rubs my thighs, one at a time, ignoring how much I’m arching my hips, hungry for touch.

“Don’t tease,” I growl.

He smiles. “Me? Tease?”

I’m about to say something rude and demanding when he puts me out of my misery, stroking my cock through my briefs, making air rush out of me. “Yeah.”

Deftly, he hooks his fingers inside my briefs and drags them down, slowly, carefully, as if he knows how fucking sore I am. He stares not at my newly exposed body, but into my eyes. “I haven’t had any partners since the last time I was tested,” he says. “No STIs.”

I slide a hand up his arm, holding his eyes, too. “Same for me.”

He drifts his hand along my thigh, then finally looks down. “Fuck,” he groans, staring at my cock, hard and throbbing, jutting straight toward him.

I can’t take another moment. I wrench him down, whipping the sheet around him, cocooning us in. He laughs quietly. “You’re so damn impatient.”

“Yes,” I admit, slipping my hand inside his underwear. “Take these off, Oliver.”

He does, readily, quickly, kicking them away. Part of me wants to throw back the sheets and lay him flat and stare at him, but I don’t honestly have the courage to do that. Not this time. I’m already so overwhelmed that he’s finally here, touching me, so close, his body perfectly nestled against mine.

I drag him closer, kiss him deeply, clasping his jaw, tangling my tongue with his. A moan leaves me as he wraps his hand around the base of my cock and strokes it, so fucking perfect. His thumb slides over the tip, working where I’m wet for him along the sensitive slit.

My balls are tight and drawn up, which Oliver feels, when he slides his hand back down, cups them and grins. “Someone’s close.”

“Shut up,” I growl.

He smiles against our kiss. “I am, too.”

Pulling back, he helps himself to the lube, warms it in his hand, before he brings it back to my cock, working it harder with tight, fisting tugs that make air rush out of me.

“Fuck, Oliver. Oh, fuck.” I crush him against me into a deep, desperate kiss, reach for him without breaking our kiss and find him, so hard and hot, weeping at his tip, grinding against my waist. “Don’t stop,” I tell him, hearing him pant as I take him in hand.

He laughs tightly. “I couldn’t stop if I wanted to. Gav, easy. I’m so close.”

I feel every inch of him, every inch of myself in his hand; the sweet, torturous ache thickening me in his grip as he jerks me off, pumps my cock and stares into my eyes.

“Come here,” he tells me, breaking his grip only long enough to ease me toward him, lying on my side.

“Yeah,” I beg, knowing what he’s doing, throwing his leg over my hip as he fists both our cocks in his hand.

We groan into each other’s mouths with the first pump of his hand, working us on each other, the tips of our cocks rubbing, making air rush out of me. I clutch his hip, rutting into his fist. I have never been this desperate, this close, this fast.

Then again, I’ve been hard for this man for two years. I could argue this is actually the longest I’ve ever lasted. “Gonna come,” I warn, my voice hoarse and tight.

He nods, breathless as I crush my mouth to his, gripping him hard as the first juts of my release paint his hand, his cock, which stiffens even more.

He groans my name, his release pulsing from him as he works himself against me.

I gasp, my hands frantic, holding him against me, needing to feel him come everywhere, in his legs as they lock around mine, his hips punching against mine, his chest brushing mine, his lips chasing mine eagerly as my hips jerk again with another desperate rush of release.

I groan his name, too, pleasure flooding my body as I watch him roll his hips once more and shudder another hot ribbon of release along my stomach.

Our breaths saw out of our lungs as I look at him, stroking his hair, as his hand still touches us, even as we soften, holding us close, our pleasure, a glorious, long-awaited mess that makes him smile.

Leaning in, I press a slow, hungry kiss to his mouth, then ease onto my back. My eyes feel heavy. My body feels heavier. I tuck Oliver against me, feeling sleep weigh me down. I tell myself I won’t sleep, just…rest my eyes for a few. Because soon it’ll be time to get up and get ready for our game…

Time dissolves, warm as the cloth he uses to wipe us clean, gentle as his body tucked against mine.

The next thing I know is Oliver’s voice, as if said from the end of a tunnel. He sounds so far away. Relief washes through me as I realize I still feel his body close. “Gavin,” he says.