Page 61 of Salt

“I’m so sorry I left you, Florian.” I shivered again and he pulled me closer. “I don’t just mean going to England. I mean in here.”

I touched a hand to my chest, and he stilled it with his own, shaking his head and shushing me.

“You were ill. It wasn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have let you go. I should have fought harder for you to stay.”

I swallowed thickly. We hadn’t come to bed to be maudlin. “You didn’t know how ill I’d become. How it would take hold of me.”

“Sshh,” he said once more. “I won’t let you get like that again. Ever. I promise.”

His nibbles and kisses trailed a path down my belly while his fingers soothed along my thigh. He’d undone his hair and it lay across me in a thick dark fold, brushing my skin. Without warning, his tongue naughtily flicked into my navel, making me gasp and squirm. Eyes made for laughing peeked at me from under thick lashes.

“I also remember what you don’t like.”

And just like that, he’d brought me back from the past. A stupid horny grin spread across my face, even as I attempted to reprimand him. “Do that once more and I’ll paint you, full-length naked like now, then hang it from the rafters in L’Escale.”

With a long slow lick, the fucker did it again. I squealed.

“Sshh! Quiet, Charles!” He put a finger to my lips, tutting. “We’ll wake Papi.”

His mouth that formed my name so beautifully was now on me, skimming bare skin, loving me properly. My nervous ball of emotions switched to neediness. Warm fingers grazed my balls before he knelt up and reached for the bedside drawer.

“No. Please. No condom. I want you bare.”

His movement stuttered. “Okaay.”

I squeezed my eyes closed, blanketed by a wave of embarrassment . “I… um… didn’t have sex for years before you; I imagine I am an exceedingly low-risk for any unwanted surprises.”

Unwanted surprises? I could blame it on French being my second language or just admit I had a fucking awkward prudishness sometimes. I should have said nothing and let him carry on. Opening my eyes, instead of finding Florian smirking at the glow stealing up my neck, he was gazing at me as if I’d just handed over the keys to Camelot.

“Unless you want to use one. I mean, I… we… we are exclusive, aren’t we, Florian?”

He chuckled and settled back down next to me, holding an enormous bottle of lube. Christ, how much were we going to need?

“Charles,” he began. “I’ve told you I love you, like a million times in the past half hour. And you’re asking me if we’re exclusive? I’m not planning on doing this with anyone else, like, ever.”

Goodness, how he handed his love over to me so unhesitatingly. A world of silver in every shade dazzled my eyes; I closed them as fingers and a lax mouth resumed mapping my body. One hand dipped between my thighs, coaxing them open.

“Shall I tell you what else I used to imagine after you left?” he murmured, his voice low and raspy. Breaching me with the tip of a slick finger, he grunted softly. “Undressing you in the hot evening sunshine. Behind my salt shack, out of prying eyes.”

The finger massaged the rim of my hole before edging a little deeper. “Then I’d pin you up, naked, against the back wall.” His tongue glided along my jaw, and he adjusted his angle. As his insistent finger moved inside, a feeling of warmth unfurled, from the roots of my hair to the tips of my toes.

“I’d spread your legs wide.”

I gasped as he added another, my thighs fell wider still as I arched into him.

Florian’s voice dropped to a breathy whisper; each word punctuated with an open-mouthed kiss against my neck. His hard shaft glided wetly against my hip. “Then I’d kneel in the dirt and bury my tongue deep inside you. Tasting every last part of you.”

“Oh, Christ.” My dick throbbed, releasing a jet of pre-cum. The delicious torturing of my mind and whatever miracle he was conjuring with those fingers needed to stop soon.

“And when that’s too much and you’re all wet and open for me, I’d enter you. Just like that, from behind, hard and fast, with the sun beating down on your beautiful white shoulders.”

“I’m going to come, Flor,” I panted, twisting the sheet in my fists. Impatient silver fireworks fizzed in my head. “And you haven’t even touched me.”

He withdrew his fingers, thank God, and I pulled back from the brink, even as the filthy picture he’d painted still danced through my mind. I dared look at him as he sat back on his heels, reaching for more lube. A blush of colour sketched the crests of his cheek bones, his wavy dark hairline damp with sweat. With slow, easy strokes, and not taking his eyes away from mine, he slicked himself until his whole shaft hung heavy and wet and glistening. Restless, I thrust up against nothing, my empty hole achy and wanting. I squeezed my dick and Florian inhaled sharply.

“Ready?”

He shoved a pillow under my hips, tilting me up, exposing me even more, and trickled more of the cool lube along my crease. My thighs trembled a little, as his dark eyes drank in the sight. “On my back, like this?”

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