Page 84 of Skeletons in the Closet

I pinched my eyes shut tighter.

Hands cupped my ass.

Fingers raked over my quads.

A warm, wet mouth engulfed me.

The worries vanished.

I dared to look. I dared to watch.

Tallus’s hazel eyes peered up as he hollowed his cheeks and took me as deep as he could. His glasses were gone. I didn’t see him take them off. It didn’t matter. Dark lashes framed his eyes, and they were beautiful. Sexy. Sinful. They spoke to me without saying a word.

He used one hand to stroke me since there was no way he could take me to the root. His throat and fingers grasping in tandem felt good. Incredible. I couldn’t stop staring. Tallus’s eyes watered as he worked me with fervor, going deeper than was possible, choking, then coming up. He didn’t stop. He never gave up.

More than once, he broke free for air but would keep a steady pace with his hand, twisting at the top, sending jolts of pleasure cascading over my skin.

Swollen lips. Red from abuse. Wet with saliva. It was too much. I wanted to close my eyes again but couldn’t look away.

I worked at unclenching a fist. I told myself to touch him, and it was okay. But the stress made my erection flag, and Tallus, astute as always, noticed. He didn’t ask. He took my unclenched hand and twined our fingers.

“It’s okay. Just enjoy it.”

I nodded and closed my eyes again, clinging to his hand, unable to let go. My body trembled from the inside out, and I was slipping toward the finish line faster than I wanted. This was the second time I’d done this with Tallus sober, and it was an experience unlike all the rest.

I was close. My orgasm crept up on me, crawling through my veins, blistering sweat along my skin. Tallus’s mouth vanished, and before I could figure out what was happening, he got to his feet and pressed his naked upper half against me. He left enough of a gap between our lower bodies so he could keep stroking. The saliva he’d left behind was plenty enough to help the glide.

Glued to the door, with Tallus’s shower-fresh scent surrounding me, I was trapped. He kept hold of my hand as he worked my cock. Like he knew. Like he sensed the imminent flight tickling the center of my chest.

I didn’t run.

It was too good to escape, no matter how loud my head screamed.

Tallus’s mouth… his lips… they grazed along my jaw, inching closer to my mangled earlobe. If I’d been in my right mind, I would have pulled away from shame, but he had me locked in a trance, cusping the edge of delirium, shaking, and stuck against the door.

His hot breath ghosted my skin. When his tongue joined the party, when he sucked the lobe into his mouth, I came without warning, my whole body jolting and tensing, even though not a single word left my throat.

I squeezed Tallus’s hand without mercy as I rode the wave, fearing letting go. When the intensity faded, I opened my eyes, out of breath, panting, and dizzy. Tallus was right there, body pressed fully against mine, mouth riding the edge of my jaw again, only that time, it was traveling the other way. To mymouth. He kissed the new mark left behind by my father and inched closer to his intended destination.

But I couldn’t.

I knew what he wanted.

Turning away, unable to explain, shame engulfed me. He didn’t protest. Maybe he knew. Maybe he understood. Tallus rested his head on my chest instead. With the door at my back and Tallus glued to my front, I was trapped, but for a change, I didn’t want freedom.

His damp hair brushed my chin, and I shifted to inhale him properly. His scent infiltrated my nostrils, and despite the roar inside my head, I carefully, cautiously rested my hands on his bare hips and held him against me, breathing him in.

For three or four painfully long minutes, we didn’t move. It was the most connected I’d been with anyone in over a decade, and although my head raced and my lungs felt like they were on fire, although I had to fight the urge to break free, I held my ground.

I held him.

19

Tallus

Diem’s heart raced with such rapidity under my ear that I thought it might explode. His breathing remained erratic for a long time, and I was sure it had less to do with the orgasm and more to do with our physical connection. His hands rested clumsily on my hips, grip loose and unsure. I could tell he wanted nothing more than to let go and run away. The intimacy of the situation was jacking up his blood pressure, and I feared he’d give himself a stroke if I wasn’t careful.

I closed my eyes and absorbed the concrete wall of Diem’s body for a few more precious seconds, knowing it couldn’t last. I should have been disappointed with his minimal participation, but I hadn’t expected more. The man was a wreck, and I’d pushed his limits. But he’d tried, and I appreciated the tiny effort.

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