Page 62 of Resisting You

Renato reached down, and Frey felt two fingers pressing at his hole. “Here,” Renato murmured.

Frey groaned and lifted his hips. “Yes. God, yes, please.” He wanted that. He wanted to be fucked. He wanted to feel Renato everywhere.

Renato bowed forward and kissed him, and somewhere beside his ear, Frey heard the sound of the lube cap popping. Then, slick fingers touched him again. His whole body twitched with anticipation, and when Renato’s first finger breached him, he let out a sharp, guttural cry. Fuck, it had been so long. So, so long.

“I know,” Renato murmured. “I know. Relax for me. Let me in. Let me have you.”

Frey felt like crying, which was entirely unlike him, but how long had it been, really, since someone had wanted to do this? With him and Jace, it had been hot and wild at first. Then, it became planned and coordinated. Then, it was nothing more than a chore.

Frey felt like a job—an obligation. A thing to be kept content so he’d shut his mouth and get on with his day.

That had been haunting him for so long.

“Please,” he whispered again.

Another finger joined the first and then a third. He felt too tight and too wound up, but he wanted to feel the sting. He wanted to be full. He wanted to know it was Renato and no one else and that he was wanted.

“You are,” Renato whispered.

Fuck, he needed to stop talking aloud, but he didn’t realize he was doing it. “Kiss me,” he said. That would at least shut him up.

Renato obeyed as he spread Frey’s legs wider, lifting one knee toward his chest. A beat later, Frey felt thickness pressing against his hole and the crinkle of a condom tip. Renato caught his moan with his tongue as he thrust his hips forward, and on his exhale, he was fully sheathed.

Frey’s entire world narrowed down to all the points he was being touched and held and kissed. To the place he was being fucked wide open, his ass tender and stretched. Renato’s hips began to rock, gently at first, then picking up speed like he couldn’t help himself.

Frey wanted to look at him, but if he did, he’d lose it. His cock was trapped between them, and it wasn’t going to be long before it was all over for him. “Faster,” he whispered.

He needed it harder than this, meaner than this. He needed the old Renato who fucked him and controlled him without letting him feel all these new things crashing through his chest.

But Renato made it clear that wasn’t going to happen. He pushed up on one arm, using his free hand to card through Frey’s hair until he finally opened his eyes. Their gazes locked, and then Renato thrust into him so hard the bed slammed against the wall. Frey’s back arched, his lungs stuttering on a broken cry.

The angle was perfect. Renato’s cock nailed his prostate, sending sparks shooting through him. He ground down, fucking Frey faster, harder, until his vision was nothing more than bright starbursts of light.

“Uh, uh, uh, fuuuck, fuck.” His words were nothing more than noise, but he knew his entire body was begging for release—begging for Renato to come with him because he was going to die at this rate.

Renato grunted, murmuring in soft Italian, and then he shifted upward again and took Frey’s cock in his hand. He squeezed hard, then put his lips by Frey’s ear. “Come.”

The single word, and it was over. Frey gasped, his voice dying in the back of his throat. His entire body went stiff before it started to tremble, and he shot hot ropes so hard he felt one of them streak across his own nipple.

The noises he was making didn’t even sound like himself. His body wanted to curl up, but Renato was keeping him pinned as he fucked faster—harder—stuttering up into Frey’s ass. He kept hitting his prostate, and just when Frey thought he was going to lose his mind from the feeling, Renato shivered, and then he came.

He was quieter about it. His hips rolled, a slow, heavy thrust as heat filled Frey’s ass, and then his body went limp. Frey’s heart was frantic, slamming against his ribs, but as Renato’s body grew heavier, their breathing began to match, and Frey felt like himself again.

Not humiliated the way he thought he’d be. No, it was worse.

He felt cherished.

And wanted.

Needed.

It was going to ruin him completely, but what a way to go.

Chapter Sixteen

“Fuck off. A surgeon and a chef?”

Renato looked up from his plate and laughed at the expression on Frey’s face. “I’m no chef, trust me.”

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