Page 84 of Crash Out
My dick was already aching, pressing against the front of my jeans like it had been counting every single hour right along with me. I was so horny I could barely think straight, heat pulsing low and urgent in my gut.
“Nathan,” I said again, the name rough and needy in my throat. I didn’t even try to hide it this time.
He made that quiet processing sound, and then his hands slid down to my ass, gripping me firmly and lifting just enough to seat me on the edge of the counter. The bowls rattled behind me.
I didn’t care.
I wrapped my legs around his hips and ground up against him, feeling the hard line of his cock through his slacks. I wanted him naked. I wanted him inside me. I wanted everything, right now.
“Fuck, I want you,” I muttered, mouth already moving to his throat, sucking at the skin just above his open collar.
He tasted like clean soap and faint salt, and I groaned against him, hips rolling shamelessly. My hands shoved under his shirt, palms sliding over warm skin and the tight ridges of his abs.
“You have no idea how many times I jerked off thinking about you. In the shower. In my fucking car after practice. Eight days, Nathan. I’m so goddamn hard it hurts. I need you to fuck me.”
He exhaled, the sound shaky, and his fingers dug into my thighs. “Wesley.”
I reached between us and palmed him through his pants, stroking the thick length of him with quick, greedy strokes. He was fully hard now, straining against the fabric, and the low groan he let out went straight to my balls.
“Bedroom,” I gasped against his mouth. “Now. Before I lose my mind right here on your perfectly considered bowls.”
Nathan didn’t argue. He hauled me off the counter in one smooth motion, my legs still wrapped around his waist, and started walking us down the hall. We crashed into the wall halfway there and then stumbled again when my shoulder caught the doorframe.
I was too busy kissing him to care, tongues sliding hot and messy, my hands tangled in his black hair. The low lamp and the music faded behind us. All I could feel was the solid heat of him, promising exactly what I’d been craving for eight long days.
We made it to the bedroom in a tangle of limbs and half-shed clothes.
Nathan kicked the door shut behind us and dropped me onto his bed, following me down. I yanked his shirt the rest of the way off, then shoved at his slacks while he stripped me with the same focused efficiency. In seconds we were both naked, skin hot andflushed, cocks sliding together as we rutted against each other on the sheets.
I broke the kiss just long enough to pant, “Condom. Lube. Please tell me you have them.” My voice was wrecked already. “And I’m bottoming. Don’t even try to argue—I’ve been thinking about your cock inside me for eight days straight.”
He leaned down and kissed me once, slow and deliberate, then nudged my thighs apart. He settled between them, one big hand stroking up the inside of my leg while the other dripped lube onto his fingers.
“Patience, Wesley,” he said, voice low. “I’m not rushing this part.”
I groaned in frustration, hips twitching up. “Nathan, I’ve been patient for eight fucking days—”
The first slick finger circled my hole, teasing, then pushed in slow and steady. My words cut off on a sharp inhale.
“And I haven’t been, too?” he asked. Nathan worked it in deep, crooked it just right, and I saw stars. A second finger joined the first a minute later, scissoring gently, stretching me open with that same infuriating thoroughness he brought to everything. Every twist of his wrist, every press against my prostate, felt deliberate—like he was learning me, memorizing exactly how I fell apart.
“Fuck—Nathan—” I gasped, one hand fisting the sheets, the other reaching down to grip his wrist, not stopping him, just holding on. My cock was leaking steadily onto my stomach, twitching every time he brushed that spot. “You’re killing me. I’m so horny I’m gonna lose it before you even get inside.”
He didn’t speed up. Blue eyes stayed locked on my face, watching every flutter of my lashes, every bitten-off moan.
“Good,” he said, adding a third finger and twisting them just so. “I want to feel you like this. Open for me. Needy.”
The words hit harder than the stretch. I whined, hips rolling down onto his hand, chasing the burn and the pleasure.
I was a mess already—blond hair sticking to my forehead, chest heaving, shorter frame trembling under his taller one. Nathan looked completely in control, black hair falling across his forehead, jaw tight with restraint, but his cock was flushed dark and leaking against his thigh, so I knew he wasn’t as calm as he seemed.
Finally—finally—he pulled his fingers out, rolled the condom on with steady hands, and slicked himself up.
He leaned down and kissed me once, slow and deliberate, then flipped me onto my stomach like it was nothing. The casual strength of it sent another spike of heat through me—God, I loved how strong he was—but I twisted immediately, pushing back against his chest.
“No,” I said, voice suddenly quieter, more serious than I meant it to be. “Not like that. I want to see you. I want to see your eyes while you’re inside me.”
Nathan went still for half a second, then his expression softened, blue eyes darkening with something deeper than just heat. He nodded once, understanding without needing more words, and gently rolled me onto my back again. He settled between my thighs, one hand lifting my knee to hook over his hip, the other bracing beside my head as he lined himself up.
