Page 21 of Red

His eyelashes fluttered as if heavy. His swollen pink lips parted in a smile. “This alright?”

“Yes,” I said quickly. I lifted my thigh, rubbing it against his crotch again, and—yep. That was either a very realistic packer, or—

“It’s pretty good, right?” His smile was lazy and gorgeous. He gave his hips a little hitch, and I felt his cock jump against me. “Got it from the witch.”

“No way.” I pulled back a little so I could get a better look at his face. This was too fucking cool.

“Yeah. It’s magic,” he said easily. “Works like it’s always been there, but I can take it off if I want.”

“Can you feel it?” Nothing less fascinating could pause this interlude, either.

“Yeah, when it’s on. She said she could make me one that did the job” –he was clearly quoting, there—"but I didn’t want it permanent.”

His matter-of-factness made me laugh.

He chuckled too. “Suppose it’s strange, but both feel like me.”

I shook my head. “It’s not strange. I’ve just never seen a magic one. But you coulda guessed that, I bet.”

He licked his lips. “Well. If you’re interested…”

I couldn’t help smirking. “If you want to show me, I’d make it worth your while.”

He laughed out loud. I’d heard him laugh, of course; he had a hell of a sense of humor. But this one was different somehow, more unrestrained. Naked.

It tugged at my heart and made me laugh too. “Only if you want, though. I just want—I’d like to keep touching you, if that’s okay. I’ve been dying to all night.”

His eyes crinkled at the corners with a full-on smile. “I knew I was being a fecking idiot.”

“Yeah, but you’re a wonderful idiot,” I assured him.

He laughed again, just as loud, and traced the fading scratches on my cheek with the rough pad of his thumb. “Not compared to you.”

“It’s not a contest,” I said, though I was preening on the inside. The man might just be what pushed me into true diva territory, and I wasn’t mad about it. “Tell me what you want?”

“Well, you can do what you want with my cock—so long as I get to see yours.”

“Mmm, yes.” I couldn’t resist another rock of my hips.

He buried his hand in my hair once more and slipped his tongue into my mouth, and that was the end of conversation for a while. As we made out, I ran my free hand all over the long, corded muscle in his back, the flat of his belly, the shape of his pecs and the scars beneath them. I played with his long, soft hair, twirling it around my fingers, giving it a tug when I wanted more—more kisses, more tongue, more of his thigh rubbing up on me.

His hands were just as curious, one roaming up and down my back and into my hair, the other stroking my hip and belly, careful not to touch my bruises. When his fingers dipped beneath the loose waist of my long johns, I gave a little whine that made us both laugh.

“Alright?” he asked, raking two fingers through my happy trail.

The sensation made my nips rock-hard. I said, with a very fake pout, “Little bit desperate. Okay, a lot.”

He wrapped his warm hand around my erection, and then rubbed his thumb over the head, rolling the skin up and down, teasing. Everything went tight on me, from my nipples to my balls, and I clutched at his ass and moaned like the silly little slut I was.

“That sound you make…” He huffed into my lips. “It’s so pretty.”

“Should I be louder or softer?” I asked, just for fun.

He smiled. “Louder.” And squeezed me gently, stroking all the way down to the base of my cock.

I rocked my hips to fuck his hand and moaned a little louder. Didn’t need to be asked twice.

“You feel good,” he murmured with another squeeze. This time, the rough pad of his thumb rubbed into my hole, collecting sticky precum, and smoothed it all over the head.