Page 92 of Symphony of Salvation

“Adventurous.”

“Somewhat.”

“I have a lot to live up to, don’t I?”

“Is your whole world a competition? Can’t you enjoy something without being the best?”

He wedged a thigh between my legs, pressing against my erection. “When it comes to you, I need to prove myself. I can’t lose this time.”

I did not read too much into that statement and rocked against his leg. “How about this? Tonight, I want you on your hands and knees.”

“You still think I’m nothing but starch.”

“Are you denying me?”

“Heavens no. I couldn’t if I wanted to.”

Kissing replaced conversation. We fumbled our way upstairs and into the bedroom. I located supplies before letting August roll me onto the bed. From there, we became a tangle of limbs. I didn’t know where I ended and August began.

If I’d doubted his assertion of not being a slouch in bed, he proved himself in less than a few minutes. He was everywhere at once. When he swallowed my cock, I almost came off the bed.

When I returned the favor, he nearly tore my hair from the roots as he arched his back and drove into my mouth. I stretched his pleasure to the tautest edge of snapping, nearly drawing him beyond his senses before pulling back. I teased until he growled in frustration.

“Hands and knees.” I slapped his thigh and found a condom and lube as August flipped over.

“Keeping it impersonal, I see.” He glanced over his shoulder with an edge of humor dancing in his eyes.

I pressed him to the bed, lying across his back and holding him down with my weight as I nipped his ear. “Yes. Problem?”

“No. However you want it. Get to it, Niles.”

“I will. This is good too.” I rocked my hips, riding his ass crack as I angled his face for a kiss.

He reached around and ran a hand along the back of my thigh, guiding the motion and moving with me. My attempt at impersonal turned a corner, becoming personal. The frantic race toward an invisible finish line slowed.

August rolled me off his back, and we were once again face-to-face, him on top, kissing, touching, and sharing a cloud above Paradise Island, far from the rest of humanity.

Before I knew what was happening, August was in control. August was prepping me. August was inside me.

I could have protested all of it.

The intimacy.

The reversal of expectation.

The quiet words he spoke in my ear that weren’t English but carried weight.

The slow and gentle way he took me. No longer rushed. No longer hectic or feverish.

But I didn’t.

For a man who claimed to have never been in love, when it came to sex, romance flowed through August’s veins. He swept me up and took me away.

After, we lay among the tangled sheets, peering at each other in the dark. A thousand unasked and unanswered questions passed between us. August couldn’t keep his hands to himself, tracing patterns over my bare skin, tucking loose strands of hair around my ear, and brushing the pad of a thumb over my lips.

“Do you hate me?” he asked.

“Does it matter?”

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