Page 63 of On the Edge

“Shouldn’t we slow down?” I asked, even as I let him drag me the few feet to the bed while shoving our clothing off.

“I think we’ve gone slow enough.” He tossed his hoodie and T-shirt off in a single move. “Remember who I am? I’m all about the speed. And you.”

“I’m all about you too.” I chuckled and let him push my flannel pants down and off. “But should we talk more? About everything?”

“I don’t wanna talk more right now.” Declan stepped out of his jeans, naked and glorious. I loved his muscles, his freckles, his smooth skin, his hard and waiting cock. Everything. “I’m all talked out, and I missed you.” He tumbled us both onto the bed. I landed on top of him, and he wriggled like a happy rabbit under me. “Missed this. Need this.”

“Me too.” Gratitude coursed through me right along with desire. I kissed my way down his chest to his sensitive nipples, toying with them until he was bucking under me, draggingagainst whatever part of my torso he could get to. “I love how responsive you are here.”

I sucked one of his nipples into my mouth, strumming it with my tongue as he moaned. “Don’t wanna come this way.”

“I love that possibility.” I chuckled darkly. “But I suppose we should give some attention to your poor, ignored cock.”

I slithered lower, intent on taking him in my mouth, but I barely got a single lick out before he shoved at my shoulder. “Wait.”

“Wait?” I raised an eyebrow. I’d never known him to turn down oral. “Thought you were all about fast?”

“I am, but I wanna kiss you too.” Declan tugged at my arm. “Come here?”

“Yes.” Frot had always been one of my favorite things, and I loved how he seemed to crave it as much as I did. I grabbed the lotion from my bedside table and slicked our cocks before settling over him.

As always, I started off a bit self-conscious of our size difference, balancing my weight mainly on my arms. Declan was having none of that and yanked me firmly against him until we were as close as two people could be, with no daylight between us, sharing the same air as we kissed, long and leisurely.

In fact, the more I let myself settle against Declan’s body, the more turned on he seemed, wriggling and grinding, hooking a leg over mine to hold us even tighter together. His frantic movements did it for me too, made my cock that much harder, made me move more purposefully with him.

He ran his hands all over my back and arms, holding me tightly while making soft little moans. We were both trying to be quiet, and I kept kissing him to try to disguise our moans, but it was hard not to shout with how good this felt, how right, how my whole body burned for this man.

Declan grinned up at me, and my breath got lost somewhere in my throat. His joy was almost palpable, but the emotion in his eyes got to me the most. Connection. Caring. Gratitude. Maybe even love, which was definitely what we were making. Every kiss, every touch, every slide of our cocks against each other, every thrust, we were building and affirming that connection.

I loved the simplicity of frot, but that was also its beauty—the magnified sensations of my fuzzy chest rubbing against his, our legs tangled together, the stripe of hair on his belly against my cock, the salty-sweet taste of his lips, the rise and fall of our synced breathing.

“Jonas.” Declan’s voice had an urgent edge to it. “Close…”

“It’s okay. Come with me.”

“Yes. Together.” He thrust harder against me, his cock driving into the crease of my hip. His head fell back, mouth open on a silent moan. I’d been wrong. This, this was the beauty, the ability to witness his pleasure and satisfaction as he came between us.

“Me too, baby. Me too.” The extra slickness of his come always did it for me. A few more thrusts and I was coming all over his stomach.

The room smelled like sex, and I had no idea what time it was, early or late, because I was already partway asleep when Declan used one of our shirts to give the barest nod toward cleanup. He nestled in beside me, head finding its spot on my shoulder, and neither of us woke until bright sunlight filtered through the basement windows.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Declan

“Would this be considered a walk of shame?” Rowan lounged against the wall directly across from the basement stairs. I’d awoken to the bright morning light and the sound of an awake household. I’d scrambled for my clothing, grabbed a handy basket of clean towels, motioned to Oz to follow me, and hoped I could make it upstairs undetected before Jonas woke up.

“Uh…” I held up the basket of rolled towels. “I was doing laundry?”

“In Jonas’s shirt?” Rowan gestured at my shirt. Oh fuck. We’d both had on black T-shirts yesterday, and I’d totally spaced on using mine for clean up after we’d had sex last night. No way could I pass off Jonas’s blood drive shirt as one of mine. “And you didn’t sleep in your bed last night.”

“Um…” I made a distressed noise as I made a beeline to the backdoor like it was a holeshot and a championship was on the line. I set the towels aside since no one was buying my excuses anyway.

“Morning.” Eric saluted me from where he sat on a stool at the island. He pointed over at the coffee pot. “Coffee is ready.”

“Thank you.” After letting Oz out, I stumbled to the coffee maker and poured myself a giant cup, added enough sugar and milk to soothe my battered nerves, and turned back to Rowan, who’d followed me to the kitchen. “How do you know where I slept last night?”

“Simple process of deduction,” Wren spoke up from over by the fridge. Damn it. Of course, they were awake too. Might as well bring the whole house in on this. I’d wanted to come out to the house, but this was a bit…abrupt. Not that anyone seemed to particularly care. Wren pointed toward the back hallway. “If you’d seen what Rowan did to your room, you would have said something.”

---