Page 67 of The Chance

“Where’s your boundary?” he croaks out on a pant, his hands hanging in the air near my hips, fingers ticking like he’s desperate to reach out but too reserved to. I feel the ghost of them dance over my skin, and it’s enough to raise goosebumps along their path. “Jordan.”

Do I even have one?

I answer him with a shake of my head.

The sounds that responds are shaky, but deep as his stiff grip finds my waist. His fingers dig in, his nails biting into the skin.

“Fuck, baby, I’m not gonna be able to stop.”

Two fingers beneath his chin lift his darkened sight to mine. His eyes swirl, his forehead lined with the tension he’s holding back.

I lean in, my stomach clenches, and I feather my lips over his. “Then don’t stop.”

With a growl, Mac seals his lips to mine at the same time, his fist wraps us both up in its grip.

His lips capture the moan that rolls off my tongue onto his, his hand pumping, our lengths pressed together.

The feel of his skin smoothing over mine is like an electric shock, the callouses on his palm like a scratch to an itch I never knew I had. The perfect balance of rough and soft.

All man.

“Fuuuuuck, we need lube,” he murmurs, his lips migrating to my chin. My jaw. My neck.

“Lube?” Part of me stiffens. Uncertainty straightening my spine.

Will I be good at … that?

Fuck, I should have done more research. All of the porn I watched and articles I read pretty much started with shit like this. Hand jobs. BJ’s. Rimming and fingering.

Licking treats from skin.

I was fully prepared to work up to more, but skipping straight there?

Was everything I saw wrong?

“Jordan.”

“Huh?” I blink, Mac coming back into focus, and my chest pinches at the apprehension tightening his features.

“Shit, this was a bad idea.” His hold on us drops and he steps back, stark naked and tense. His sight trailing over me keeps me in place, like he’s committing the scene to memory before he turns and picks up his towel.

“Wait, Mac—”

He doesn’t stop.

I catch up to him by the couch, stopping him with a hold on his elbow. He’s still solid when he spins on me, his cock pointing straight at me.

But it’s the look on his face that pauses me.

“I can’t do this,” he chokes out, his features guarded. “Don’t ask me to do this.”

My mouth works but I’m struck.

I don’t know what to say.

Does he really think I don’t want this?

It’s all I’ve fucking thought about formonths.

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