Page 88 of Studs Up
“Please, Nolan,” I begged. “Please. Please.” I grabbed my cock to stroke in time with his thrusts until he changed the angle and found my prostate swollen and sensitive.
“Fuck,” I lunged forward and braced myself against the mirror, my palm flat against it, and I could no longer stroke my cock and keep up right at the same time. I had to use what little strength I had to keep us from launching into the wall.
But he hit my prostate over and over again, and my knees went weak. He was honed in on every need and knew exactly how to satisfy it before I could even voice it.
Nolan put a fist in my hair and pulled me flush against him. The vision of us in the mirror was blurry. I could see myself getting thoroughly fucked, and it made me leak wildly from my cock.
“Look at how fucking beautiful you are.” His eyes bore into my reflection, daring me to contradict him.
“Oh,” I whimpered. He gripped my hip and pounded harder. We were getting loud. Too loud. His hand clamped over my mouth.
“Shhh, sweetheart,” he rasped. “I’ll give you what you want, but you have to be quiet.”
Tears burned at the corners of my eyes, trying to contain the urge to scream.
I could only watch as he drove in deep. I was close. I had been close since I walked into the room. Seeing him again and being close enough to smell and touch him had sent me to the edge.
My balls were tight, and my blood was so hot it was burning me from the inside out.
“Oh my god,” I groaned as my eyes rolled. “I’m gonna cum.”
Nolan grunted and reached around to stroke my cock for me. It was too much. I came, exploding all over the dresser, and Nolan followed right behind me, pressing his forehead into the curve of my neck and thrusting deep with a small cry, and I felt the pulse and heat of his orgasm.
We were left panting and gulping air while our bodies struggled to keep us upright.
“Fuck,” he groaned. “I missed you.”
With the last of my energy, I lifted my head to find him kissing my neck, but his eyes were on mine.
“You missed me?”
“I miss waking up to you,” he said, then tilted his head. He didn’t say, ‘I miss fucking you.’ He said, ‘I miss waking up to you.’ He pulled out, and I groaned, mourning the loss.
Turning, I cupped his face between my hands.
“You missed waking up to me? Like you actually missedme?”
“Yes, Holden, I actually missed you. Did you go deaf?”
I shook my head and brought him down for a kiss.
“Come on,” he murmured. “You gotta get dressed before your dickhead friend starts banging on our door.”
“He’s not a dickhead,” I said.
“I have yet to see evidence otherwise,” he muttered, kissed my forehead, and went to the bathroom, returning with a warm, wet washcloth. He didn’t let me clean myself. He did it for me. All I had to do was stand there on shaky legs and let him.
“Why are you smiling?” he asked.
“No reason,” I said. Other than being the happiest I had ever been. He didn’t believe me, but there was no way I was ever dropping the love bomb.
“Get dressed.”
He cleaned the dresser, wiped down the mirror where I made a mess while I dressed, and checked to make sure I didn’t look like I had just gotten the life railed out of me.
And right on schedule, bang, bang, bang, on the door.
“Yo, Monroe,” Alex called through the door. “Dinner.”
