Page 57 of For Real

“With my cock.”

I skate my fingers over his arse to make the point, and he kind of erupts into a full-body shiver. “Until you fuck me with your cock.”

“Okay. Good.” I kiss the side of his knee. “Now touch yourself.”

“What?”

I’ve startled him again. Turns out I like doing that. “I told you I had a use for your hands. Touch yourself.”

“And”—I kind of see the realisation hit him—“stop when you say?”

I grin at him, nuzzling at his leg. “Yeah.”

“Oh God.” He unpeels a hand from the bedstead and very gingerly takes hold of his cock. Whatever he feels makes him sort of shudder and cringe at the same time. “Oh God. Oh, Toby.” He gives a weird, shaky laugh. “Complicity is your master weapon.”

I’m not sure what he’s getting at. I honestly just like watching him. All the little responses you miss when you’re distracted by involvement. Like the glide of skin over skin, how that sounds, this rough-silk whisper, the strength of his hands, with the bones all ridged up along the backs, and the way all his muscles tighten as the pleasure hits him.12

And, oh my God, his face. I could watch his face forever. The flicker of his lashes. And sometimes he squeezes his eyes so tight, it’s almost like he’s in pain. But his mouth, his mouth has that softness to it, and it makes the softest sounds.

While he strokes himself, I crawl round to his side and slip a finger between his lips. And he just takes it in like it’s my cock, like it’s a fucking gift, moaning into my skin.

And I kind of come all over him. Which really wasn’t the plan.

But it comes out of nowhere, like an awesome sneeze. White light in my brain. Bam. A fucking orgasm, somehow dragged out my fucking finger.13

So fuck the plan.

“Oh God.” That could’ve been either of us, but it’s Laurie. He shudders like he’s been hit with a whip or something as my cock empties itself over his side and chest.

And, fuck, he looks debauched. Completely fucking debauched. Lying there, pinned open, flushed and sweating and streaked with come, one hand on his straining cock, the other still locked around the bed rail, a frantic man, half-chained and half-free, waiting for sex and covered in it.

I take my wet fingers from his mouth, and I get between his legs and circle him there so lightly. Until his arse glistens like his mouth.

“Oh God,” he says again. His eyes open slowly, like they’re heavy, and meet mine across his body. “Toby.”

Wow. There’s everything in my name just then. Hope and fear and need, and some stuff I’m probably inventing that makes me feel so warm inside. Like I want to give him everything back.

“I’m here. Right here.” I rub my cheek against his inner thigh. I wish I had scent glands like a cat because then I’d own him, wherever I touched him, and all the other cats would know he was mine. Maybe I need to get a signature cologne or something. Like in that Britney Spears song. “You’re so amazing right now.”

He shakes his head. But his breathing has an edge to it, an urgency, and his hand is moving harder and faster on his cock, so the sound of skin on skin is a shout, not a whisper.

“Yeah, you are. Stop.”

I think he’s actually so close to lost he’s half forgotten. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do if he doesn’t obey, or if I’ve misjudged it and he comes before I’ve said he can. But I haven’t misjudged him. He gives this deep groan and yanks his hand away, slamming it into place on the bed rail. And I’m suddenly so fucking proud of him and so full of need because I want to hurt him and please him, make him suffer and make him happy, and all I can think is what a fucking miracle it is that just now, with him, those things aren’t any sort of contradiction at all.

It’s also when I know I’m definitely, undeniably, impossibly in love. With this man I know and don’t know at all.

And I can’t pretend anymore that this will ever be just sex for me.

It never was, and it never will be.

I love him. And I love this. And they’re inextricable.

While he lies there, breathing harshly, his brow creased with the agony of denial, I scramble back over him. I’m actually trying to get lube, because I forgot earlier, but on the way I kiss him, and he opens to me, sweetly, almost hesitantly, and I slide into his mouth.

A kiss for lovers, tongues entangled like our bodies.

He arches after me, whimpering when I go to pull away, so I fall back into him, and we kiss and kiss, and kiss some more. I’m so deep in him, held by his raised knees, and I want to say it to him—the magic words I’ve never said to anyone who wasn’t family—but I’m not sure it’s fair to do that sort of thing when you’ve got somebody tied up and forbidden to come. Maybe after, if we can kiss like this again.

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