Him (Him #1)(67)

“Fine. Be that way,” I grumble.

He doesn’t even chuckle. Instead, he clicks off my lamp and begins to shed his clothing. Every scrap. I lie there on my back while my eyes grow accustomed to the dark, admiring each newly exposed inch of smooth skin and hard muscle. An impressive erection bobs against his stomach. I want to sit up and take him in my mouth, but I wait lazily instead. Whatever Wes has planned, I’m pretty sure I’m going to enjoy it.

Then he’s bending over me, kissing the strip of exposed skin between my T-shirt and my briefs. “Mmm,” I sigh. I’m so hard, and he hasn’t really even touched me yet. His hands slide into the elastic of my shorts and I lift my hips. Whoosh, they’re gone. The next second, he puts a hand across my mouth and then deep-throats my cock in one gulp.

The heat and pressure are so swift and shocking it’s a miracle I don’t bite his hand. Wes works me over with his eager mouth, while my stomach quivers and my hips roll. Jesus Christ. I know we have to be absolutely silent, but I may not survive it.

By the time he releases me with a pop, I’m trembling everywhere. Wes disappears from my line of vision for a moment. When he returns with a condom and a bottle of lube, I sigh with relief.

He offers me a hand, and I take it, allowing him to pull me into a sitting position so he can remove my T-shirt. Then he straddles my thighs, crouching there on his knees. For the first time since he walked into the room, we’re kissing for real. And I’m so hungry for it. All the softness from a few minutes ago burns off like steam, leaving a brush fire in its wake. These kisses are hard and molten. I capture Wes’s tongue in my mouth and suck hard.

He moans—the first real sound I’ve heard from him tonight—and I swallow the sound down my eager throat. On his knees, he ruts slowly against my body, our chests bumping, our cocks aching. Wanting him hurts so good.

Eventually he sits back a bit, breaking our kiss. I reach for the condom, hoping to move things along. But he takes it out of my hand, tearing the package.

Instead of sheathing himself, he reaches down and rolls it onto my cock.

The breath halts in my chest. “Really?”

Wes kisses me instead of answering. Another tongue-tangling scorcher. Then he pops open the lube and applies some to his own hand. He reaches back, a serious expression on his face. I can tell when he penetrates himself, because he bites his lip.

“Let me do that for you,” I whisper. I lube up my hand and reach between his legs. Wes puts both fists on the bed and leans into my body, kissing my jaw.

I caress his taint, and he sighs into my ear. When I finger his crease, he lays his head on my shoulder. “That’s it,” I breathe. When I penetrate him, he freezes for a second. Then I hear him take a deep breath, and I feel him relax.

He’s hot and tight and like nothing I’ve ever felt. I ease inside. He alternately fights me and then relaxes. I stop to apply a ridiculous amount of lube to my hand. And now I’m able to reach his spot. I move my finger in a beckoning motion, and he shivers against my body.

Wes’s face is still buried in my neck. I like it there. I wish he’d never leave.





31





Wes





I’m struggling.

That’s the theme of today, apparently: flat-out struggle. But this is a struggle I’ve chosen. Letting another man into my body isn’t easy for me. I don’t know why. It just isn’t.

I want to, though. Every time I tense up against the intrusion, I tell myself the same thing: this is Jamie. It’s okay. And then I’m able to relax. Jamie’s taking it slowly. He reads me in the way a talented goalie would. He’s firm and gentle in this as in all other things.

Fuck. I love him so much.

Today was another reminder of the way things are. The first time I ever touched Jamie, I pretended to be giving him something when in truth I was taking. He forgave me, of course. Unfortunately, this summer has been more of the same. I give him my affection. And in return, I put him at the mercy of *s like Killf*cker.

Today Jamie lost his star player. He’ll probably never see that kid again. And it’s all my fault.

Jamie’s free hand warms my back while his other one preps me. “Baby,” he whispers. “Can you take more?”

I nod into his neck. A second finger joins the first one. At first I struggle against the burn. It’s Jamie. It’s okay. Another deep breath and I make myself relax.

“That’s it,” he urges. “I want you to ride me, okay? And when you come, I want you to shoot all over my chest.”

A bolt of lust races down my spine. I bear down on his fingers, and I’m rewarded with a brush against my prostate. Yes. That zing of pleasure makes me shiver, and I can feel Jamie’s smile against my cheek.

After a few minutes, he gets me to three fingers. I start riding his hand in small thrusts. He murmurs encouragement while I ask my body for a little more stretch. It’s been years since I tried this. I was hoping it would just seem easy, but like everything else in my life, I have to work for it.

But I do it. And it leaves me with yet another reason to appreciate Jamie. My daring, big-hearted man. He does this for me, and he makes it look easy.

He’s amazing.

I sit up a little straighter, kissing him hard to let him know I’m ready. Jamie’s mouth welcomes me in. I take a few more exquisite sips of him. For courage. Then I rise up on my knees, readying myself for him.