Page 112 of Over the Line

“Oh my God,” he slurred, sounding on the verge of tears. He let his head fall forward again. “Jesus Christ…”

I kissed the spot I’d bitten, then released his dick. “You are so hot when you come.”

He just whimpered.

“I was going to blow you after I came,” I murmured. “But being in you while you come is…” I trailed off into a groan as I started rocking slowly in and out again.

Garrett shuddered. “God, I love your filthy mouth.”

I laughed softly and kissed his shoulder again.

“I want you to come.” He turned his head until he found my lips. “Come in me.”

“It’s not too much? Right after you⁠—”

“No. Just… not too hard?”

“I can do that.” I kissed him again. Then I sat up and slid my hands over his hips. My God, this view was amazing. Garrett, skin flushed and gleaming with sweat, his arms trembling beneath him as he moved in time with my hips. I loved watching my cock disappear into him. Ride him slowly? Oh, hell yes. It was a damn miracle I hadn’t gone off yet, and this was my reward for holding back—the slowest, most languid fuck with the most gorgeous view.

“I’m gonna come,” I murmured. “Jesus, you feel so…” I squeezed my eyes shut as a shudder went through me, but then forced them open so I could watch myself take one, two, three more strokes before⁠—

I sucked in a breath as a shudder nearly threw me off-balance, and then I was there, releasing inside Garrett as the whole world turned white. My hips bucked, and for a few heartbeats, there was nothing but bliss and the need to get as deep as this beautiful man could take me.

Then I shuddered and exhaled, and I slumped over him, the whole world spinning around me as I came down from heaven.

“I didn’t dream this, did I?” Garrett slurred, turning his head enough to bring his face into profile. “This is real?”

I laughed, sounding a bit drunk. “It’s real.” I kissed the back of his shoulder and sighed happily. “Very, very amazingly real.”

He grinned. So did I.

Somehow, we managed to separate, get out of bed, and move to the shower. How I made it through all those motions without passing out or something, I’ll never know, but I did it.

As we cleaned up, all those residual aches and pains bloomed like fireworks beneath my skin, reminding me which joints and muscles and old injuries were pissed at me.

I was as used to that as anyone could be. Some of them had been with me since I was a teenager, and they weren’t going anywhere now that forty was creeping up on me.

Whatever.

I was naked with Garrett. He was pulling me into his arms, pressing that beautiful body against mine beneath the hot spray, and stroking my hair as we basked in this delicious afterglow.

Aches and pains be damned, this was perfect.

If we stayed in bed much longer, especially in this post-orgasmic haze, we were going to fall asleep.

Not that I had any objection to Garrett spending the night beside me, but I did still need to brush my teeth, set my alarm—all that adult bullshit. And I was pretty sure he had to work tomorrow.

Stroking his hair, I said, “I could use some water.”

“Me too, now that you mention it.”

I groaned—admittedly a bit theatrically—as I sat up. “I could’ve sworn there was a time when I could play a game, then go home and have a marathon threesome.”

“Oh, yeah?” Garrett grinned. “Post-game threesomes, huh?”

“Sometimes, yeah.” I rubbed my shoulder and winced. “I think if I tried that now, a limb would fall off.”

He snorted. “I mean, there’s nothing that says it has to be a threesome with two twenty-somethings who have stamina to burn.”