Page 35 of Wild Fire

My back hits the passenger door with a hard thud, but I don’t stop because I can’t. I keep licking, sucking, kissing his thumb as I groan because it tastes good and his curses are like a praise I didn’t know I needed.

His breaths are labored, and he removes his thumb from my mouth, and I catch my breath as I stare up at eyes I don’t know, but somehow… I do.

AJ’s brown eyes are full of heat, and his expression is anything but soft.

And neither is his mouth, when he crushes it against my own.

Chapter Eleven

AJ

The moment I kiss Nate, I know I’m a dead man.

I don’t make a habit of kissing my subs, because kissing makes things personal. Scenes are simple. Sex is simple. Kissing leads to feelings and feelings are anything but simple, at least for me. But kissing Nate?

Kissing Nate makes me feel things I’ve never felt before, even though he isn’t my sub. His back hits my truck with a loud thump, and I press my body against his to trap him beneath me so he can’t get away. He groans, thrusting his hardness against mine, a wordless confirmation that both excites me and makes me nervous.

You can fake a lot of things, but you can’t fake what turns you on.

And feeling Nate’s stiff cock against my own only makes me think about last night, when he was in my bed, stroking himself. His hand finds my neck and he rests his palm there, and my hand settles on his hip as he deepens our kiss, probing his tongue into my mouth.

It’s a strangely dominant gesture, and shouldn’t make my cock bloom with precum, but…

It does.

Which is equal parts terrifying as it is intriguing.

I’ve never gotten hard from a kiss, not even when I was a teenager who’d just discovered his cock and what pleasure could come from it.

But I can’t deny that the moment Nate opens his mouth and forces his tongue against mine, I am hard as a damn rock.

And he knows it.

He thrusts himself against my cock as he moans into my mouth. Nate rubs his hardness against mine, and I know if he keeps it up, I’m going to come.

Fuck!

Nate grinds against me, moaning as our tongues collide.

“If you don’t stop that, Nate, I’m going to come,” I bite, my voice dark and bitter even to my own ears. I need him to understand, but the words that are usually so easy to say aren’t coming as easily as they usually do.

Coming… isn’t something I just… do. It takes a lot to get me off, even when I’m doing it myself. I like to enjoy every part of that process leading up to the moment I allow myself to have what I want, and even it takes time to prepare myself physically and mentally, and I don’t give in unless I know my sub can handle it. Even when I am doing a scene, I rarely let myself come because I know if I don’t, if I edge myself for a few days, it’ll be so much better.

Never in my life has anyone made me want to come this fast.

Especially clothed.

Nate groans, his voice petulant and bratty as fuck, which doesn’t help matters.

“Then come,” he says, his voice taking on a dark edge that is strangely confident and irritating; almost dominant itself.

I growl in response, trying to think unsexy thoughts and regain control of my body, but my hips snap of their own accord as his dick twitches against mine and then his hand replaces his erection and I have to grit my teeth. A deep growl escapes me as his mouth finds my jaw, then my neck. I’m dizzy from how tight my pants are getting, and I try to push his hand away, but I somehow end up grasping it, trying to slow his pace to make him understand I’m not ready.

I don’t want to come, not now, here, like this, but… I do.

Or more specifically, I want Nate to force the orgasm out of me. I want him to take it from me.

And that is probably the most terrifying truth of all because I am usually the one wrenching forced orgasms out my subs past their limits.