Page 113 of Maybe You

My fingers smooth over his messy hair, lips fused with his. He kneads my ass as frantic breaths mix with equally frantic breaths, and noses bump together.

He holds me so tightly that it feels like he never wants to let go.

And we kiss.

Sutton’s lips are everywhere now, sucking my earlobe, on my cheeks and jaw, resting over the pulse point on my neck, counting the frantic beats. The back of my head slams against the hard concrete as I try to give him more room. More access to every part of me, every tiny inch he can reach.

Fingers slide over my ass and up my back. His arms wrap around me and hold me closer. Hips snap up in search of friction until I have to tear my mouth away and laugh.

“Keep it up and you’re going to make me come,” I pant.

“I very much plan to keep it up and make you come,” he mumbles into my neck as he licks over the hollow of my throat.

“So everything’s going according to plan, then.”

“Almost. There’s a bed and getting you naked somewhere on the agenda, too.”

“We should really get on it, then.”

“The bed?” He lifts his head and smirks.

“And the agenda. Seems like an urgent matter that needs to be taken care of.”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me,” he says, and I laugh.

He puts me back on my feet and looks down at the way his dick is tenting his pants.

“This should be fun to explain,” he says.

“Maybe we’ll wait for a minute before we go back inside?” I suggest.

“We could sneak downstairs and get a room,” he says. “A suite with a view. Order room service before I suck you until you don’t remember your name.”

It’s enticing, I’m not going to lie.

But also not very.

I want him. I want him to fuck me. I want him to make love to me. And I want it in his bed and not an impersonal hotel room.

So I shake my head.

“Take me home?” I ask.

He looks at me for a long time. A look I can’t decipher.

He takes my hand.

And he takes me home.

TWENTY-THREE

My back hits the bed, and I bounce up and down on the mattress for a single heartbeat before Sutton is all over me.

From the moment we got inside the apartment, we haven’t stopped kissing. I wrap my ankles around Sutton’s back and thrust my hips up until my cock is pushed against his abdomen.

Sutton breaks the kiss for a moment, and as if by some unspoken agreement, we both start unbuttoning each other’s shirts. Impatient fingers fumble with small buttons. I give up and pull his shirt free from his waistband. My hands travel over the smooth planes of his back, stomach, and chest.

He straightens himself above me, chucks the shirt over his head and tosses it on the floor carelessly. He pulls me up enough that he can wrestle my shirt off my shoulders before he tosses it to the side, too. The pants are next to go.

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