“Will you let me lead?”
Please, God, say yes.
He made a noise that sounded like agreement, but I wasn’t sure, and I had to be. Breaking the kiss, I stepped sideways so I wouldn’t topple back on the bed.
“Ian?”
He was staring at me intently, waiting.
I had to tell him what to do, I instinctively understood that. No wonder he’d supposedly been crappy in bed with Emma and the others, he was supposed to be the one leading and he wasn’t made that way. I could see it all over him, the tremble that engulfed the hard-muscled man. He looked like he should be the one throwing me down, taking what he wanted, but instead, he was waiting for instruction.
The time for more questions was past. I couldn’t ask what he wanted, I knew that. If I asked permission, I lost control, and Ian craved my dominance. He had always noticed my body, the innate physical strength in it, but he had never guessed at the leashed power inside. But I understood that a part of him wanted to be held down, wanted to be made to submit, and intuitively, he’d known I could do that for him.
It was scary. If I messed up, I not only ruined a friendship, but a partnership as well. If I’d misread him, what he needed or wanted, I wouldn’t recover. If I was somehow wrong… but how could I not take the chance to have everything? Not knowing, that was worse. I was a lot of things, but a coward wasn’t one of them.
All of this rushed through my head while Ian remained frozen, waiting and vigilant.
“Come here,” I ordered.
He moved fast and I drew a fortifying breath.
“Take everything off.”
Instantly he tugged off the duffle coat, let it drop, and then reached behind his back, between his shoulder blades, and pulled his Henley, and the T-shirt underneath, forward, up, and off. Watching him strip for me sent blood rushing to my cock, and I realized that being in control of Ian and myself might be more than I could handle.
“Aren’t you gonna take off your clothes too?”
I cleared my throat. “Don’t worry about me. Just get your shoes off.”
He toed them off, sat and pulled off his socks one by one before getting to his feet fast to yank down his pants and briefs. After stepping roughly from them, he waited, hands on hips, for what would come next.
“Pull the covers down and get on the bed, in the middle, on your hands and knees.”
He moved without question, and admiring him—the play of muscles under his sleek skin, the tight round ass, the powerful lines of him, his back, his thighs and legs—made my mouth dry. Every part of the man was sculpted and beautiful and scarred. He was a mess of heavy silver tissue in some places, spiderweb-fine lines in others from stab wounds and bullets, and of course the crisscross pattern on his back where he’d been flogged over and over for weeks. Scar tissue was a funny thing; under the skin it became like a root system, branching out from one place and rippling outward. On top of the skin, it became patterns, almost art, sometimes raised with how heavy it was underneath. It hurt to think of Ian being brutalized, but each mark had made him who he was now. I planned to trace each one with my fingers and tongue.
“Where’s the bag?” I asked softly, trying to keep the ferocious desire in check.
He pointed at the nightstand, not moving, not embarrassed or telling me to hurry up.
I slipped around the bed fast and glanced at him as I did. His long gorgeous cock was curling up toward his stomach and drooling precum. The whole thing, my giving orders, turned him on big time.
Behind him, I shed my coat, my heavy sweater, and the T-shirt underneath, and when I unbuckled my belt, he shivered. I saw it.
“You’re beautiful,” I whispered, leaning forward to smooth a hand down his flank. “You know that, right?”
He caught his breath, and I smiled as another shudder ran through him.
Leaning back, I pulled my pants off, left my socks on, and climbed onto the bed behind him. When I kissed the small of his back, pulling the cellophane off the tube at the same time, he let out a low moan of need.
“I’m gonna tell you what I’m doing all right?”
He nodded.
“First I’m opening this tube of lube you got.” The pop of the cap sounded loud in the quiet room with only Ian’s breathing breaking the silence. “I would have liked a thicker one for your first time, so I’ma be gentle.”
“I don’t—just not slow.”
“Why not?” I asked, curling over him, snaking my arm under him to take hold of his heavy cock and stroke him from balls to head.