Page 5 of Scratch the Surface
So tight, so hot, and the squeeze of his muscles on my flesh was almost enough to make me come. “Jesus, you feel good,” I husked, beyond caring that I was responding to him as me and not as the hustler I was supposed to be. I wanted to sink down into him over and over.
“Stay,” he murmured into the side of my neck before he kissed and licked, finally sucking on my skin before tipping my head back so he could have my lips again.
I got lost in the kiss, in him moving under me, the silky glide of his warm, sleek skin, the tender way he touched me, and then the wicked smile that made the blue of his eyes heat and sparkle in the low light.
“I want you to have me, but I don’t want to let go of you.”
He fit me like he was made for me. And that was terrifying.
“Could you—harder—” He caught his breath. “—please.”
Easing back, I thrust forward, fucking into him, pumping my hips, repeating the motion again, and then again, lost in the beating rhythm of it, the primal pacing of claiming another.
“Are you close?” he murmured, his lips on my ear.
“No,” I told him, because having no stamina did not serve a hustler well.
“Thank God,” he said, and pushed on my shoulder to get me to roll to my back.
I did as directed, clutching his thigh and the small of his back, pressing him tight to my body so we didn’t part, and heard his gasp of pleasure once we reversed positions.
He rose over me, all of him chiseled and defined, sculpted out of burnished ivory, and I watched as he unbuttoned my dress shirt, opened it wide, and then splayed his hands over my chest. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered roughly, and the awe there was unmistakable as his eyes, with the now-blown pupils, fluttered and closed.
Impaled on my shaft, he remained motionless, and looking up at him, head tipped back, mouth open, the dappled flush on his throat and cheeks, I wanted to maul him. My instinct was to unleash myself on him, but I waited, even though it was torture.
Being inside him was heaven. The pressure, how tight he was, how slick and hot, the squeeze of his muscles as they rippled around me, made it hard to remember this was supposed to be all about him and not me.
“You have to move,” I said, trying not to sound like I was begging, hoping I didn’t sound as frantic as I felt. Being in control was very important, but holy God, he felt good.
“I’ve never been this full,” he said in awe, those deep, dark, wet eyes of his opening, and then his gaze, all drugged languor, was on me.
I took his hard, leaking cock in hand and stroked him, slowly but firmly, letting him feel every callus on my hand from the many different jobs I did. Instantly, his hands, that had been lying flat on my pectorals, dug into the muscle, and he began to rock back and forth, riding me, finding the spot he needed. All of it was a study in uninhibited passion, and I loved it, loved watching such a beautiful man come undone.
He bent close, but instead of leaning away, as I normally did when others forgot in the heat of the moment that I didn’t kiss, I lifted for what I wanted, and he devoured me in return.
Both of his hands were on my face, stroking my beard as he rubbed his tongue over mine, tasting all of me, kissing me breathless, clearly loving the connection of our mouths as much as having me buried to the balls in his ass.
I felt him jolt over me, his rhythm faltering as he broke the kiss and pushed his face into the hollow between my shoulder and neck, his chest pressed to mine, his cock trapped between us, grinding over my abs as I bent my knees on either side of his hips and fucked up into him.
His stuttering breath, his mouth open on the side of my neck, sucking, kissing, licking as his hands fisted in the sheets, and he suddenly froze, the muscles in his ass clamping down around me as he came. There was hot cum pumping over my abdomen as he shivered above me, turning my head so he could take my mouth again.
I didn’t ask permission. I rolled him to his back, feeling how limp his body was, his hooded eyes on me as I lifted his knees, curled forward, his legs up over my shoulders as I slid between his thighs and shoved into him hard.
“Oh please,” he moaned, begging, that tantalizing voice of his like a caress.
I took total possession. There was no checking to see if he felt good, because from the way he clutched at my shoulders, how tight his legs were as they wrapped around my hips, and his panting breaths, there was no question that he wanted me.
