Page 22 of Something Borrowed

Stan’s fingers are now stroking deliberately down my arm, and when they reach my hand, he turns it over and trails his fingers over my palm, tracing the lifeline. I swallow a moan. I’ve been having sex since I was seventeen with a lot of men, but I never realised that such a simple touch could get me so hard.

“Stan?” I whisper.

“Go on,” he orders, and the command in his voice makes me move before I can think twice. I arch into him, and he groans. His hand moves in and brushes across the stiff length of my dick.

“Oh god,” I groan.

He freezes for a second and my brain returns online for a brief moment.

“What are we doing?” I manage before crying out. He begins to stroke my cock with a firmer, rougher touch. The soft material of my sweatpants might as well be made of tissue paper for all the protection they offer. I reach down to grab his arm, and he stops again.

“No?” he says hoarsely. His cheekbones are dusted with red, and his lips are full and look so soft. He blanches. “God, you’re right.”

He goes to move away. It’s what I should be doing, too. I know it, and he knows it, which is why I’m surprised to find myself reaching to stop him.

“Raff?” he breathes.

I pull down my sweatpants and put his hand on my bare cock.

The pleasure is so extreme that I cry out, arching into his touch, and he moans. It’s a shockingly intimate sound, and I have a moment of fear as he releases his hold on my dick. But then he feels for my face, clasping it and pulling me closer.

When his lips touch mine, I expect one or both of us to pull away, to freeze, to snap back into reality.

It’s the first time we’ve kissed. We’ve never, ever gone down this path. But our mouths move together with shocking familiarity. It feels like we’ve done this many times in many ways.

His lips are full and soft, and he kisses how he approaches life—full of passion and determination, tangling his tongue with mine and holding my face to an angle that suits him.

Before I know it, I’m lying flat on my back, and Stan is moving on top of me. We both groan as our cocks touch. The soft fabric of his sweatpants rubs against my bare cock, and the pleasure is so extreme that I arch into him. I try to wrap my legs around him, but my sweatpants are at my knees, stopping me, and I reach down, pushing at the fabric. His hand joins mine while he kisses me, and in a flurry of limbs and hot lips, we get my briefs and joggers off. I immediately wrap my legs around his narrow hips, arching up into him and rubbing against him, trying to find some relief.

He levers back, and I groan.

“Stop moving,” he orders, his voice thick and rough as he searches for my hands. I clasp his fingers, and he raises our joined hands over my head, pressing them into the sofa cushion. “Stay still.”

The command is so hot that I close my eyes, counting backwards as my balls tighten. I knew he’d be like this. We’ve always spoken easily about sex, and while I know he’s vers, he prefers to top. I also know he likes control, which is hardly surprising. What is stunning to me is how much I like it. It makes my skin feel tight, and my head swim.

He grins down at me and releasing one hand, he traces the contours of my face. His finger trails over my lips, and I open my mouth, sucking it in, making him shudder.

“Suck it,” he instructs.

I groan before sucking on that finger as if it’s a dick, letting my tongue move as my cheeks hollow.

He moans, and using our joined hands for balance, he grinds into me. He replaces his finger with his tongue, sucking on mine for a moment before thrusting into my mouth. The room fills with our groans.

I free my hand and tug at his sweatpants. “Off,” I mutter. “Get them off. I need you naked.”

He pulls back, and in a mess of movement, we tear our clothes off. Items of clothing fly around the room, and one of his trainers hits the TV, but we don’t pay attention as, finally naked, we come together on the sofa.

“Tell me to stop,” he gasps as he rubs into me.

I stare up at him. His eyes are closed, but mine have never been more open. I’ve seen him naked before, but never with the eyes of a lover, and he’s stunning. Broad shoulders and a muscled torso dusted with dark hair, tight abs and long legs all covered in golden skin. He’s beautiful.

“God,” he mutters, twisting his hips in a way that puts a wonderful pressure on my cock. “I can’t believe how good it is to kiss you.”

I wrap my arms over his broad back, pulling him tighter against me, never wanting to let him go. Our cocks continue to slide and rub together, friction eased by the precome we’re leaking. The sofa creaks as our movements get wilder, and Stan’s choked grunts get louder as he ruts harder against me.

“More,” I gasp, grabbing his arse and resting my feet on his buttocks, urging him on. “More, please. Make me come.” The last is a desperate whine.

His head lowers, and I feel his breath against my neck before he grunts, biting into my shoulder. The slight bite of pain lights me up, and I arch, throwing my head back and moaning low andlong as I come in spurts over his groin. His breath hitches, and he raises his head, his face set as he searches for his pleasure.

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