Page 24 of Loving You

God, it felt good. It felt better than anyone Monty had been with in a long, long time. His hands came up, gripping at Bronx’s sides. “More.”

Bronx pulled back with a small grin. “Demanding?”

Monty’s throat went flush with heat as he shook his head. “No. Just…please?” Christ, he hadn’t realized he could sound like that. Humble. Almost begging with a single word.

Bronx bit his lower lip, and then his hand trailed down Monty’s naked chest. Bronx’s rough clothes were almost a sharp contrast to Monty’s naked skin, and he let out a surprised groan when Bronx rocked himself against Monty. He was hard, trapped behind the zipper of his trousers.

“You like that?” Bronx asked.

Monty nodded, wordless and silent apart from a short gasp when Bronx’s hand finally made it where he wanted to be touched most. He braced himself to be gripped, to be stroked, but Bronx once again defied expectation. He ghosted a touch over the length of him, making his dick jump, then carefully cupped his balls in his impossibly warm palm.

He stroked over them with a rough thumb, rolling them gently between his fingers, eyes fixed on Monty’s face like he was feeding off the ecstasy in his eyes. Monty groaned loudly, and Bronx let out a shuddering breath. “Fuck. You really like that, don’t you?”

Monty squirmed. The touches were light and teasing. A gentle torment, and it only took Monty a second to realize it was on purpose. Bronx was going to draw this out.

To make him beg for it.

“I—” He stopped and swallowed thickly.

Bronx lifted a brow. “Come on, sparky, don’t get shy on me now.”

Monty jolted with the sudden nickname. Apart from shortening Montez, no one had ever cared enough—had ever been affectionate enough—to do it. Not even quick and dirty hookups. He was never called babe. Never a quick, whispered sweetheart.

Nothing.

He trembled slightly as his cock got thicker. How had a single, unsexy word gotten him so close?

Bronx didn’t miss it. He licked his lips as he glanced down, and then he looked back into Monty’s face. “This is gonna be over quick, isn’t it?”

Monty’s flush spread to his cheeks. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I…”

“No. Don’t apologize. You’re perfect.”

Fuck. He felt a rush of pleasure coursing through his veins. Was he going to embarrass the fuck out of himself and come all over Bronx’s hand without being stroked? “Sorry,” he whispered again.

Bronx slapped his free hand over Monty’s lips and stared him in the eye. “You. Are. Perfect. Do you understand me? You’re so amazing. You’re doing all of this exactly right.”

Monty moaned loudly against Bronx’s palm. His hips shifted, desperate for some kind of friction against his cock.

Bronx’s gaze darted down, and then his hand moved, but not to touch him there. No, he spread Monty’s thighs further and then began to pulse two fingers behind his balls, teasing his prostate from the outside.

“You’re so good. So good for me, sparky.” Bronx’s voice rumbled over the surface of his skin, and Monty felt like he was about to light up like a goddamn Christmas tree. Hisface was hot and tingling, and his balls were tightening. His cock was leaking a steady stream over his lower stomach, the head only just poking out from his foreskin. “So perfect. Such a goddamn good boy.”

Bronx pressed down hard and rubbed in a circle, and before Monty could stop himself, he was lost. The orgasm was different—strange. Subtler and warmer and yet seemed to carry on and on. His vision was blurry, a little dark, and he was profoundly aware of Bronx’s weight on him as he writhed.

He returned to awareness at the feeling of Bronx’s soft kisses along the side of his neck and the flat of his hot palm stroking over his softening cock. He moaned quietly, and Bronx lifted his head, his bright eyes staring at his own.

“That was amazing.”

“Humiliating,” he managed to say with a heavy tongue.

Bronx shook his head and kissed him softly. He was lying in Monty’s mess, and for some reason, that made his dick give a feeble twitch. Bronx smiled and nipped at his chin. “Perfect. Goddamn glorious, sparky. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Monty turned his face away. He wasn’t used to this. It was starting to become overwhelming. He dragged a touch over Bronx’s bare shoulder—when had he taken his shirt off? His jeans were open too—the zipper spread in a wide v, and his cock was rubbing Monty’s hip through the fabric of his boxers.

“Let me,” Monty started, trying to push Bronx up so he could get to him.

Bronx kept him pinned with his body, and after a beat, Monty went boneless. “Good boy,” Bronx muttered.

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