Page 69 of Ricochet

“Hey.” I hover above him, our cocks slotting against each other. Holding myself up with one hand, I place the other against the side of his neck like he did to me earlier. “We don’t have to do this if you’re scared.”

He glares up at me, and it’s almost reminiscent of how he used to look at me, which now I only find kind of adorable. “I’m not fucking scared.” The look fades, and he swallows. “I’m just nervous. But I want this, Stone. I wantyou.”

“I’ll give you anything you want,” I tell him again. Because I will. And I’ll tell him a million and one times. “Just remember you can tell me to stop. I’ll always stop for you.”

A small, shaky smile graces his lips as he nods. “I know.”

“Good.” I kiss him before dragging my mouth down to his jaw, his throat, his chest. “I’ve been dying to taste more of you. I’m going to make you feel so good, baby. The only thing your body will remember is me.”

He lets out a soft, blissful sigh like he wants nothing more.

Before I can get too far, I lean over and open the small drawer of my nightstand, retrieving lube and a condom.

“Um.” Callum eyes the condom, then peers up at me. “Do we have to use that? I just…I want to feelyou. Only you.”

Fuck, I want that too. More than I ever have before.

“I’m on PrEP. And I’ve tested negative since I was last with someone,” I tell him. Because I won’t let him have any doubts.

“I’m negative too.” He squirms a little. “I’ve never…I haven’t…not since…”

Tossing the condom back in the drawer, I move on top of him again. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. And you never haveto feel ashamed around me. I understand at least a little more than you might think.”

Maybe not from personal experience. But I watched my sister closely for years after her attack. She pretty much skipped denial and went straight to anger. For the longest time, she closed herself off to feeling anything but that. I was already feeling protective over my family after we lost our father, but that sent me over the edge. I was there for her when she finally had her breakdown. Or breakthrough. I guess it was both.

I spent days and weeks doing research on sexual assault survivors after that. That’s probably the only reason I’m not panicking under the pressure of being in bed with Callum right now.

He looks at me like maybe he wants to ask questions, but instead he says, “Okay.”

“Okay,” I repeat. “Now let me take care of you. I’ll make sure you feel all of me.”

Again, I kiss his lips before letting my mouth travel down once more. I lick over his pulse point, feeling it flutter beneath my tongue. I stop to kiss and lick at each of his nipples, then I’m kissing my way down his stomach. He lets me skim my lips over his scars without flinching or freezing up. The long, pink lines. The round one that I’m even more sure was from a cigar now that I see it up close. When I get to his cock, I sweep my tongue up the length of him before taking him into my mouth. His low, deep moan fills my ears as I suck him.

While he’s distracted by my mouth, I place my hands against his thighs, spreading his legs wider. I take one last lick over his slit before my mouth is moving lower again. I give some gentle attention to his balls as I grip his ass cheeks in each hand, spreading them next. Then my tongue is there, swiping over his hole.

“Fuck!” Callum shouts out as he jerks against my mouth.

I raise my head to see him staring, wide-eyed, lips parted, gasping. Like he can’t believe what I just did.

But then he whispers breathlessly, “Do that again.”

Or maybe he can’t believe it felt so good.

I grin and obey, going back to his hole, swirling my tongue around his rim.

The next time I peer up at him, his knuckles are white where he grips the sheets, his eyes are closed, his cock is leaking where it rests on his abs, and he’s muttering curses in between all the other little noises he makes.

“Fuck. Fuck. Oh my fucking god.”

“Not yet,” I murmur, making sure my deep voice rumbles right through him. “I will be soon.”

Then I thrust my tongue inside him, and he cries out.

Fortunately, I have experience in telling the difference between screams of pain and cries of pleasure. Callum’s is undoubtedly the latter.

So I don’t stop.

I flick my tongue a little deeper, then I add a finger, pushing in alongside it. He lets out another deep sound, but it’s not one that’s telling me to stop.

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