Page 39 of Loving You

Monty cried out softly. “Please. I need to.”

“I know you do. I know you want it. But I know you can be good for me. I’ve seen your patience, sparky. I’ve seen your power. It’s fucking beautiful, and I want to see it now. Tell me you’ll let me have this.”

“You can have this,” Monty gasped, rocking backward on Bronx’s dick. “It’s yours. I’m yours.”

Bronx hated that those words didn’t mean what he wanted them to mean—but that would be asking too muchof both himself and Monty right now. So he basked in them for the moment, lived in the fantasy as his hand let Monty’s cock go, trailing up to toy with his nipples.

Monty shook beneath him, quivered around him, body heated and primed to come. But he held off even as his arms trembled to keep himself upright.

Bronx tucked himself up against Monty’s backside even tighter, pinching his nipples harder, tugging down until Monty was a mess of need. He was sweating and maybe even crying a little. There was a small puddle of drool on the sheet beneath him from his parted lips.

“Fuck, look at you,” Bronx breathed out. “You’re the best thing I’ve ever seen. You’re so lovely, Montez.”

Monty let out a sharp cry, and his hand flew up, squeezing the tip of his dick. “I c-can’t. I can’t. Bronx, I need it. I need you to fuck me hard. Let me come.”

Bronx couldn’t deny him any longer. He wanted to spend all night edging him, but he was weak to Monty’s pleas. He gently moved Monty’s hand back to the bed, and then he pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in. Again and again, changing angles until Monty’s back arched and his mouth opened on a silent cry. He got the angle right, so he gripped Monty by the hips, keeping him in that spot, then rammed his prostate until Monty’s eyes rolled back in his head.

His body was tense—Bronx hadn’t lost him. Not yet. He fucked him hard, fast, and then when he was sure Monty was going to collapse with need, he gripped his cock and began to stroke him. It only took three pulls of his hand for Monty to let go, and the way he squeezed down around him took Bronx over the edge with him.

His body gave out, collapsing on his lover, and they tumbled to the sheets. Monty’s body shuddered, rackedwith his orgasm as Bronx spilled deep in his ass. The condom filled, and Bronx bit down on the back of Monty’s neck as the tendrils of pleasure began to ease.

Then, Monty was finally still in Bronx’s embrace.

“Are you with me?” he whispered.

Monty said nothing, but he nodded and managed to nestle backward with what little strength he had left, and Bronx tightened his grip. Laying soft kisses over his sweaty shoulders, Bronx managed to kick the blankets down to the bottom of the bed. He pulled out so he could ease the condom off, and he tied the end in a knot before letting it fall to the floor.

He’d clean the mess he left behind later. They were sticky and sweaty, but the very last thing he wanted to do was move. He shifted to get more comfortable, and Monty’s grip on him tightened.

“Don’t.”

Bronx froze.

“Don’t go,” Monty said. His voice was raspy and soft and very tired.

Bronx bowed his head and laid warm lips to the base of his neck. “I wasn’t going anywhere.”

“Can you stay? Will your son mind?”

He wouldn’t. Bronx would send him a text before he passed out so Lucas didn’t worry, but he could stay. The lines were starting to blur, especially after what he’d said to Monty’s dad—especially when it had felt so good and so right—but he’d deal with that later.

For now, there was this. And him. And the one man who was starting to help him feel whole again.

Bronx woke alone in a bed that wasn’t his, and it took him a second to remember why. His alarm was going off, so he rolled toward the edge and swiped his fingers over the discarded, sticky condom before he found his phone. He grimaced and wiped his fingers over the sheets as he turned off the noise, then covered his eyes with one hand.

He smelled like come and sweat. He was sticky and crusty, and he was not looking forward to picking that shit out of his pubes. But he couldn’t stay like this forever.

Sitting up, he glanced around and realized the room smelled like fresh soap, and there was a hint of humidity in the air. The bathroom door was open, the light off, but he could see a little fog on the mirror.

Monty was still here.

Then the bedroom door opened, and he appeared. He was dressed in a button-up white shirt and black slacks, his hair combed, his face freshly shaved. He was smiling, looking a little hesitant, but he didn’t slow down as he walked over and dropped down to press a kiss to Bronx’s lips.

“Kisses are still on the table, right?”

Bronx curled a hand around the side of Monty’s neck to give him a proper hello. With tongue. “Always. And sorry if my mouth tastes like ass.”

“I don’t mind it.” Monty straightened and smiled at him. “There’s coffee. Do you have work today?”

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