Page 58 of The Hitman’s Final Job

“Okay.”

He reaches over to the nightstand and retrieves the lube and sets it on the bed next to us, then he sits up, and because I’m still on top of him, the movement tips me forward, which puts us face-to-face and with hands free to roam.

He begins first, hands moving over my thighs, my hips, my back, my chest. “I don’t even know where to start with you,” he says, his face filled with awe. “I never thought I’d get to do this.”

“We have time,” I say. “And we don’t have to stop after one orgasm. Let’s make it all count.”

I try to shift off his lap, but his hands tighten on my hips.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Don’t you want me on the bed? Like on my back or⁠—”

“No,” he says. “This is perfect.”

He holds my gaze and reaches for the lube, adding a good amount to his fingers.

When he reaches behind me, I tense. I’ve been on the other side of the equation—the one to prep, be careful to make sure my partner feels safe, even if it’s just a hookup—but now that I’m on the receiving end, my body doesn’t know what to do.

Vaughn’s looking at me with wonder, so I relax.

“I want to see that pretty little hole,” he says, his voice low, as his finger finds me and presses gently. “I want to lick it and kiss it. But this time I need to be like this.” He gets the finger inside me, and I exhale completely. “I need to see your eyes,” he says, “and every microexpression in that beautiful face. I want to see how much darker your eyes get. I want to see those long eyelashes flutter closed as I move inside you.”

If only Vaughn knew there won’t be a single moment of tonight that won’t be permanently burned into my memory. Every sound, every touch, every expression on his face in this low light. My mind is recording all of it.

This might be the only time in my life when the one thing I’ve always considered a curse is now a gift.

I want to remember this. I want to remember every second of it.

He adds another finger, slowly, and I breathe through it, waiting for the stretch and the burn to fade. I need more, so I tilt my hips forward looking for it, and Vaughn watches my face. His cock is untouched, but it’s still hard against mine.

A third finger.

“Oh, fuck,” I cry.

“Okay?”

“More than okay.” Is it weird to like this burning sensation?

I reach down and wrap my hand around my own cock, which is leaking and has been demanding attention for longer than is strictly comfortable.

“Vaughn, I’m ready. Please.”

“It’s going to feel different,” he says. “We’re going to go slow. You’re in control, and you set the pace. You stop if you need to stop.”

“I know.”

“I mean it.”

“Vaughn. Fuck, I’m not a virgin.”

“I know, Silas, but I’m not going to be a dick here. I want to take care of you.”

I sigh and rest my forehead against his. “I know. I’m just … a little nervous, and I want this so fucking much.”

He kisses me so slowly I forget what we’re doing other than I need more of everything.

He adds more lube to his cock and keeps his hand at the base, holding it steady for me.