Page 82 of If Only In Our Dreams

“Would you like this to be a secret?” I was okay with that. Not because I didn’t want to show him off, but because I could be patient. I could play the long game. And it wasn’t as though everyone and their dog didn’t already know how head over heels I was for the little blond stuck snugly between my legs.

Robin stared at me for a beat, his eyes swirling with complex emotion. When he shook his head a few moments later, it was deliberate and slow.

“Good,” I replied, leaning down till our lips brushed. Up close like this, I could smell his cologne. Soft and musky. A sweet undertone that smelled just like the wine we’d shared.

When I kissed him sparks exploded between us. Liquid heat pooled low in my belly as our lips brushed, and I kept the pace controlled and slow. Robin kept trying to speed it up, these impatient little hiccups buzzing against my lips as he nipped and bit and tried to provoke me, but I never gave in.

Slow and steady, lick after lick, I coaxed his mouth to soften for me so that I could savor it. When he finally fully surrendered, it was with the most beautiful sigh. His breath ghosted against my skin and made me light up from the inside out.

Drugging,lullingkisses.

Robin’s mouth was slack and needy, his sweet little tongue curling out every time I retreated. Like he wanted me back inside his mouth but was such a good boy he knew it wasn’t his place to make demands.

When we parted I gave him one last peck on his cheek, then his nose, then his forehead. Lingering there, I soaked up the flutter of his breath before I pulled away, rising back to my knees to hover over him.

“Bed,” I told him, ignoring my very hard dick and where it leaked, trapped inside my jeans.

Robin licked his lips, like he was savoring the taste of our kiss. I couldn’t blame him because I wanted to do the same. His eyes were dark with lust as he stared up at me.

I’d never had someone look at me like I was the Second Coming of Christ before.

It was certainly flattering.

“Dick touching?” he asked, voice crackly warm. “And fingering,” he added, head jerking eagerly. “Right?”

“Maybe,” I replied because though I kept my promises, I could see how exhausted he was. I rose to my feet, grimacing when my back twinged. It’d been acting up today, though I’d done my best to ignore the dull, throbbing pain. If I’d been in New York I would’ve visited a chiropractor, but the nearest one to Belleville was over an hour away, and I simply had not had the time.

“Your back?” Robin frowned up at me from the couch. He wiggled onto his elbows, still spry and young—damn. Ten years, give or take a few. That was the gap between our ages. You’d think it was larger, considering how easily he still moved and the amount of energy he seemed to always possess, even when he was whittled thin with exhaustion.

“It’s not happy,” I agreed, holding a hand out to help him up.

Robin grimaced in sympathy. He accepted the help, though he looked wary, like he worried me pulling him up was going to make it worse.

“I’m fine,” I reassured because I didn’t need him to worry about me. “I just won’t be performing acrobatics any time soon.”

Robin nodded along, staring up at me from somewhere near my pecs, his green, black-lined eyes full of affection. “Ben…” he trailed off, voice intimately low.

“What?” I asked, waiting for him to gather his words.

“Can I rub your back?”

That had not been what I expected him to want to rub, but I wasn’t about to say no.

“You want to rub my back?” I repeated, genuinely surprised.

“Yes,” Robin nodded emphatically. And then he frowned, face pinching. “Unless you think that would make it worse? I’m not like…a doctor or anything.”

“Good thing I am,” I joked, pleased by how easy it was to play with him like this.

“Right,” he agreed, grinning.

Robin’s shy request did not prepare me for the absolute mindfucking pleasure that awaited me the second I lay on my belly in bed and he got to work. He did not give himself enough credit. His hands were strong and capable, his fingers stubborn as they worked out the knots along my spine and up beneath my shoulder blades.

I sank into it with a groan, the sound caught somewhere inside the pillow my face was buried against.

“One of the drummers that used to tour with me had a girlfriend that was a masseuse,” Robin chatted away. He was sitting on my ass, his little legs spread wide, sweet little cock soft and brushing against me every time he slid up toward my neck. “I used to watch her sometimes because it seemed like a useful skill.”

“Very useful,” I agreed, blissed out and shuddering as he found a particularly sore spot up by my trapezius and gave it a pointed rub.

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