Winning With Him (Men of Summer 2) - Page 64

I’m an electrical wire crackling as I work the crown into him, slipping past that first ring of muscles.

Yes.

Oh yes.

Our breaths catch at the same time. Our gazes lock. Nothing else matters but this.

“Give it to me,” he whispers, urging me on. “All of you.”

“Take me,” I growl as I deliver what he wants, and it’s mind-bendingly good. My brain lights up with pleasure as I slide all the way in.

Like that, I bottom out in my lover’s body.

He takes me, and we fit.

Grant’s eyes stay locked with mine as he breathes out an intoxicated, “Yes.”

That one-word syllable lasts forever as I savor the tight heat of him gripping my shaft, as my hands press on the back of his thighs, as I bury myself in my man. “Mmm. You’re so open. You like this, rookie?”

He grips my biceps, squeezing them. “You know I do.”

“Tell me,” I demand. “Tell me how much.”

Showing off how flexible he is, Grant hooks a foot over my shoulder, and I nearly spin out from the sharp, hot burst of bliss charging through me. “That much,” Grant murmurs. “Love the way you fuck me hard. Love it so much.”

Grabbing his ankle, I go deeper. New ink lines the muscles of his calf but I don’t have time for that now. Pleasure twists and throbs in me as I drive in, never tearing my gaze away from the man beneath me, his muscles rippling, his lips parted.

For me. For us.

“God, it’s so fucking good,” I moan as my body becomes a torch with every delicious thrust.

“Love looking at you like this, Deck,” he rasps, squeezing my arms, tugging me even closer, like he can’t get enough of me.

My mind goes hazy as we move together. He slides his foot off my shoulder, keeps his knees up, and we find our rhythm.

His body seeks me just as I seek him.

We’re in a cocoon of erotic bliss.

All of my senses are heightened, my mind recording every intoxicating detail. The so uniquely Grant-like smell of his skin. The take-me-now look in his eyes. Our mingling groans. Our noises too. Like when my breath comes fast, and his fans across my skin. When my balls slap against his ass and the sound of skin-on-skin electrifies me. When the bed groans, the headboard smacking the wall from our thrusts.

The scent of sex fills my nostrils.

There is nothing else in the world but us. This room. The two of us tangled together on his bed, slick with sweat, hot with longing, years unfurling between us, the endless days apart vanishing into nothing.

As we reconnect in this primal, intimate way, all the aching subsides. As I fuck my man, the anguish of missing him burns away.

Turns to ash.

In its place, desire renews.

Hell, the way we feel for each other is like a goddamn phoenix rising as we put the past to rest. There’s so much I want to say, but words are too hard to form when there is this.

I may be the one fucking him right now, but it feels like we’re fucking each other. He’s letting me back inside him, and I’m doing the same. As our noises and grunts fill the air, a beautiful tremble rattles through me, tightening my balls, hardening my cock even more.

“It’s better,” I rasp, finally finding speech again.

“I know,” he gasps, reaching for my chest, sliding those big hands down my skin, making me shiver. “It’s even better.”

“It’s so much better,” I choke out because . . . my God . . . the intensity. The connection. The heat.

I’m not sure the two of us were ever having just sex.

But this is loving and fucking. Fucking and loving.

And it’s knowing.

Knowing that your missing piece is here with you at last, if only you can hold on. If only you can do things right this time around. I’m so damn determined to give him everything he wants.

Grant pushes up on his elbows, his lips parting, his voice a bare whisper of need as he grabs the back of my head with one hand. “Kiss me. Kiss me now.”

As I bury my cock deep in his body, I dip my face to his, savoring his lips, tasting his mouth, swallowing his desire.

We get closer and closer. We don’t stop kissing. I’m not sure that I ever want to stop. We keep up that rhythm for several long, hot minutes, sweat slicking between our skin.

I’m sure—no, I’m positive—that I could come so damn soon.

But I made a promise to him. It might just be a bedroom promise, but I’m not going to start over with Grant and break the first vow I made to him.

As much as it pains me, I pull out, gasping as he groans plaintively, like a wounded animal. But I slide next to him and pull him on top of me, whispering against his lips, “I don’t want to come until you’re inside me.”

Tags: Lauren Blakely Men of Summer M-M Romance
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