Page 77 of Symphony of Salvation

His fingers found their way to my hair again, knotting, tugging, guiding my movements as he thrust into my mouth, chasing a pleasure he’d denied himself for far too long.

When he came, smothering cries into a pillow, his whole body shivered and rippled.

I reversed course, kissing his skin on a return journey north to his mouth, stopping momentarily to inhale midchest. The lingering hints of cologne remained, but it was August’s natural essence that captivated me.

We ended up kissing again. Tamer and satiated, August explored with languid appeal, like he could linger on my mouth the rest of the night until our saliva dried up or our lips chapped. His hand found my length, and he lazily stroked, keeping me engorged and on edge.

“I want your mouth on me,” I said when I came up for air. “Do you do that?”

“Yes. Roll over.”

I obeyed, and August didn’t bother with preliminaries. He settled between my thighs and got to work. The hot glide of his tongue along my already stimulated cock was too much and not enough. I chased the pleasure, driving up into his mouth over and over until I came without mercy, holding him in place as the disorienting pleasure commanded my senses.

August didn’t shy away like I feared he might. He took it all. Eagerly. Hungrily.

After, we lay side by side, facing one another, legs and feet entwined. He traced a finger down the length of my forearm. “I’ll have condoms next time.”

“Will there be a next time?”

A divot appeared between his brows. “I hope so. It wasn’t disappointing, was it?”

“God no.”

August found my hand, and our fingers naturally wove together.

“I should head home.”

“Stay a bit longer. Let me lie with you a while.” He moved so we shared a pillow, noses touching. “I don’t want it to end. Not yet.”

“This won’t work. You and me. Not like this.”

“I know.”

“I refuse to fall in love with you, Auggie. So don’t you dare think differently. You’re heartbreak waiting to happen.”

Sadness pulled creases at the corners of his eyes. Quieter, he said, “I know.” Then he pulled me into his arms and held me.

Chapter eighteen

Niles

Iwoke sometime in the night, disoriented, with a warm body pressed against my back and an arm draped around my waist, securing me in place. Moist exhalation from my bed partner fanned my nape.

“Shit.” What time was it?

Carefully disengaging from August’s hold, I slipped out of bed and stumbled around the unfamiliar bedroom in search of my clothing. The illuminated numbers on the bedside clock announced it was close to six in the morning. I was supposed to be long gone by now.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

Dressed, I glanced at the man who’d somehow become a reluctant lover and considered waking him to say goodbye, but getting tangled in an awkward conversation wasn’t high on my list of things to do on Christmas morning. Besides, I did not want to revisit the embarrassing remark I’d expressed after our exchange—rather, the pointed statement I’d declared in defense of my fragile heart.

I left August to slumber and crept out the door and down the hall to the living room. Rounding the corner, I stumbled to a stop. Constance sat on the couch, a blanket around her shoulders, a book on her lap, and a reading light clipped to the pages. It cast a yellow glow over the words, leaving the rest of the room in shadow.

She looked up at my sudden appearance and flinched.

I did the same.

Two deer caught in the headlights. Two matching expressions of shock.

---