Page 47 of Silent Is The Heart

I’ve just been extended an invitation.

I’m speechless, so stunned I’ve forgotten all about mapping him with kisses. I know well enough that he doesn’t ask for things. The vulnerable look on his face, however, tells me he doesn’t ask forthis—ever.

Bottoming is about trust. It’s about giving yourself over to the sensation of being completely connected and almost at the mercy of another person. It’s a unique kind of pleasure—one that requires satisfying emotional needs to get to the physical. You have to be in the right headspace to enjoy it to its fullest. The look on his face says he knows it, andthat… is what has me humbled beyond words. I could have died happy just kissing him until our lips were both raw, but if Easton Bennickis silently begging me to fuck him, I’m going to do whatever he wants.

I nod, awash with new nerves. It’s been years since I topped. I know it’s like riding a bike, but not every bike is the same, and not every bike is a precious bicycle that I want to have the best cycling experience of its life.

Leaning in to kiss him, a thought occurs to me. “I don’t have anything,” I blurt in a panic. “I…haven’t needed to have anything…in a while.”

“I’m on PrEP,” he replies softly, shrugging a shoulder with a little smile like he’s back to trying to hide his nerves.

“Oh…good.” I nod, but then a nervous laugh bubbles out of my lungs. “Um…we still need something, though. I meant I don’t haveanything. Not even lube.”

He pats my arm for me to move and starts getting up. Great. I was just given the sweetest offer of a lifetime and I ruined it.

“I’ll be right back.”

Watching the shadowed dimples in his ass as he pads out of my room, I silently hold him to that promise. Closing my eyes, I give myself a stroke and blow out a breath. I was ready to go over the edge moments ago, but now anxiety is showing its effects. Remembering all the parts before his request, however, brings my body back online.

“So nice of you to wait.”

My eyes flare open to find he’s returned. Lying back down on the bed, he tosses a yellow can between us on the mattress. A yellow…aerosol canof olive oil.

“Is that…my cooking spray?”

His brows quirk. “You apparently don’t know your way around a kitchen.”

Oh. My. God.

The things you learn about someone. I wanted to know about what he’s been up to since I moved away. This will teach me to be nosy.

Shaking my head, I grab the can, feeling a bit out of sorts, and settle in next to him. How do I even go about this? Picturing myself aiming for his entrance, I doubt that’s what he has in mind. “I’m not trying to be a downer, but this doesn’t exactly sound mood-inspiring.”

“Sure it is. Once you hear this sound, you’ll never associate anything else with it.”

Taking the can from me, he grabs my hand, and the next thing I know, my palm is being sprayed with cooking oil. Theshhhnoise seems to go on and on as he unloads the oily mist.

“Whoa! Whoa! Okay, that’s enough!” I laugh.

Grinning, he guides my hand to his cock and leans up to kiss me. My laughter dies in his mouth, and just like that, we’re back to the precarious moment before he stormed my kitchen. Except now, he’s slick in my grip, thickening again when I start stroking him.

Jesus, this stuff really does work well.

“I think this is my new favorite recipe.”

Groaning, he pinches his eyes closed. “Stop it. Please.”

“What?” I chuckle, easing over him, grateful for the distraction. “You planted the seed there. I’ll never trust you in my kitchen again.”

“You shouldn’t, now that I’ve seen you naked,” he snorts, but he must realize what a tell that is because he goes quiet even as my heart flips over the thought of being wanted by him in every room.

Easing my hand lower, his puckered flesh greets my cooking-oil-sprayed fingers. “You’re sure?” I whisper.

Turning his head, he grabs up the can and lifts his leg. Sneaking it between us, theshhhsound is an elephant in the room, but perhaps only to my aerosol-as-lube virgin ears, because he tosses it and then nods somberly.

God… I will not unsee that. Strangely enough, though, it has its own kind of sex appeal, knowing that he’d resort to uncommon lubricants to be with me.

Circling his rim, I try to ignore the olive oil now dripping from it. Luckily, I’m captivated by the flicker of his pulse in his neck. His breath comes in hot waves on our kisses the more I continue. My reward is his hands introducing themselves to my body in new places—first touches I’ll put to memory. Carefully, I slip a finger through his ring, greeted by the fire inside. His fingertips knead my back like a cat flexing its toes in satisfaction. I can tell he’s impatient, but if I cause him any pain, I’ll never forgive myself.

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