Page 91 of Stick Around
“Bed,” I gasped, pulling away. “We need…I can’t…”
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice thready and soft. His cheeks were flushed pink, making his subtle freckles stand out like someone had flicked paint across his skin.
I touched his jaw. “I’m in a fuckload of pain, and I want to do this properly.”
“Oh god, that check,” he murmured.
“You watched it?”
“It sounded awful.” He eased back away, then took both my hands and tugged me through the apartment. I went easily, passing Athena, who was licking her paws in her window seat, tripping past the doorway into his bedroom.
Jonah shut the door behind us, and the only light after that was through cracked blinds in the window. But that was fine.I didn’t need light to see him. I had my hands, my body, my mouth. I knew the way to his bed, and I eased him down, taking my time to pull off his sweater and jogging pants, leaving him on full display.
“Are you looking at me?”
I grazed a touch down his torso, then cupped his cock. “Yes. Is that okay?”
“Only if I can look at you,” he said.
I leaned in and kissed him again now that I could. Now that I knew he’d kiss me back. I indulged in ways I never had with a partner before. I let myself taste all of him, feel all of him. I lingered, sharing breath with his open mouth touching mine.
“Yes?” he finally asked, breaking the spell.
“Yes.”
He went for the hem of my shirt, then stopped and traced a touch upward. “What are you wearing?”
“Hoodie and basketball shorts,” I admitted.
He burst into laughter. “No suit?”
“I hopped on the first private jet available to get here. I slept in this,” I told him.
“Oh my god, you’re such a fucking nerd.” He sat up, knocking me back, and his trembling hands quickly worked all of my clothes off, dropping them in a soft heap beside the bed. And then he got his hands on me.
All over.
I hissed when he hit each bruise and groaned when he found the tender spots that desperately wanted attention. He moved a hand between my legs, feeling over my balls, then lower, between my cheeks—fingers swirling around my hole.
“Hairy.”
“Want me to shave?”
He grinned. “Absolutely not. I can’t grow hair to save my life.”
I had noticed and wondered only once if he waxed.
His fingers pulsed against my hole, and I groaned, dropping my forehead to his shoulder. “Is that—do you want to fuck me?”
“Would you like that? Do you enjoy being a bottom?”
I shrugged. “I like both. Whatever you want.” Pulling back, I looked into his face and lifted a hand, tracing the line of his jaw. “Whatever you want,” I repeated, hoping he understood what I was trying to say.
“I want you.” He swallowed heavily, then said, “You were my first.”
“Man?”
“Yes.” He smiled, and his eyes drifted halfway shut. “But more than that. You were the first person I ever wanted like this. My first kiss that felt like my entire world was on fire. The first person who ever made me ache to be home in bed with you. And I thought you couldn’t stand me.”
