Page 71 of Devilry

“How about we play a little game of catch up?” I ask, my voice hoarse. “Do some things you never got the chance to.”

“Like make out?” he jokes, the teasing smirk a contradiction to his eager eyes.

Answering him, I fuse my mouth to his, the distance becoming harder and harder to bear. There isn’t the rush, or the usual frenzy that accompanies most of our kisses. Timing and place are not an issue. I kiss him knowing the regret should come but never will. Some crazy part of me wants to try to recreate his youth and give him the experiences he was denied, the touch he was refused. With every stroke of my tongue, I make it my mission to give him all the things he’s missed out on. My need to make him feel more than he’s allowed himself, more than he’s been given, becomes my absolute priority.

He deepens the kiss, one hand settles on my ribs and the other grips my hip, guiding me over him. Putting all my weight on my forearms, I hover, trying to maintain some sort of restraint. “Why are you so far away?” he asks before tauntingly raising his hips, grazing his hard dick against mine.

I take a sharp breath, glaring at him.

“What?” he asks innocently. “Isn’t this my teenage fantasy?”

“You want to play it like that do you?” Elijah shrugs, like he’s got no idea what I’m talking about. “I’ll have you know, before we take it any further, I was trying to keep this somewhat G-rated.”

I lower myself onto him, giving him all my weight. “You know? Things people usually do before hitting third base.”

“But third base was so much fun,” he teases, referring to our time in my office. He wiggles underneath me, bringing his eager cock to my attention. “You know, I’ve never had someone lie down on top of me.”

His eyes twinkle with seductive mischief, his face smug as all fuck. I guess two can play this game. “Tell me what else you’ve never done.”

“I’m sure you can guess,” he responds, his voice lacking the confidence from earlier.

“Doesn’t mean you haven’t thought about it, right?” I shamelessly grind my cock into his, trying to keep him from following his insecurities into his own head. “Tell me. When you’re alone at night, in your bed, what it is that gets you hard?”

A slight tremor ripples through him, regardless of the trepidation written all over his face. Confused, he ignores the attraction and gives in to the worry, lowering his eyes and shying away from me. I take hold of his chin and steer his focus back to me.

“Don’t do that with me.” My voice is soft, but there’s no mistaking it’s an order. With every hesitant breath, his body rises and falls beneath mine. “Don’t hide away because you think the things you have to say are embarrassing.” I press my lips to his mouth, hoping to relax him. “I know what’s going on in that brain of yours,” I say, kissing his jawline. “And it has no place here. I want to knowevery single thing.”

Peering back up at him, I see the return of desire in his eyes. Right where I want him, I lower my mouth back into the crook of his neck, giving his collarbone a soft bite. “Want me to go first?” I lick up the side of his neck until my mouth sits at his ear. “Want to know how everything about you gets me hard? Want to know how I lay in bed, every night, replaying the image of you on your knees and the sound of you gagging on my cock?”

Shaky hands skim over my sides and settle on my jean-covered ass cheeks. I feel his shaft lengthen underneath mine, and instinctively I press into him.

“That innocence that you’re so quick to get rid of,” I continue. “Fuck. That’s the sexiest thing about you. It drives me fucking crazy how untainted you are.” His breath hitches. “You’re a fucking prize, Elijah.”

My confessions are heavy and unfiltered, but nothing about them is untrue. With my head still buried in his neck, I roll my hips into his, slowly sliding my rock-hard cock against his. Squeezing my cheeks, he guides me into his preferred pace. Up and down, the friction is deliciously maddening. Usually the pace would kill me, slow and steady not being my usual flavor. But with Elijah, the journey is just as fun as the destination.

Wanting to see his face, I raise my head to his. “You feel really good underneath me.”

A strained laugh leaves his mouth. “You feel really good on top of me.”

“You okay?” I ask, checking in with him. As good as it feels, I refuse to let my body run the whole show. I don’t want any regrets with Elijah, or to run the risk of railroading him into anything he isn’t ready for.

Smashing his mouth to mine, he gives me the only answer I really wanted to hear. His choice to be in this moment with me has me wading into a pool of relief. Our tongues battle for dominance, while our bodies grind and rut in a flawlessly choreographed dance, moving in a perfect rhythm.

We rock against one another and I’m reminded just how sexy good old-fashioned dry humping can be. Every part of me loving the closeness, the yearning, the opportunity to fascinate him with the simple things.

Clumsy hands find my shirt as Elijah breathlessly tries to work out the buttons. Pulling myself away from his mouth, I rise on my forearms and give him all the access he needs.

Not wanting to rush him, I stay perfectly still, watching his face bunch up in concentration as he undoes each one with determined precision.

When he’s done, warm, eager hands splay themselves across my chest, feeling my skin. It’s one of the most basic exchanges of human touch, but with Elijah it feels like so much more, like a privilege to be the one to give him things everyone else I know has taken for granted.

“Let me see you,” he breathes out, voice rough and needy. I move back on my knees, my shirt open, my dick straining against the zipper of my pants.

Shrugging out of my shirt, I watch Elijah’s senses go into overdrive. His eyes roam over my body, leaving lashings of heat everywhere he lingers. “What do you want, baby?” I coax.

Sitting up on his forearms, his hand reaches for my stomach. Fingers lingering around my navel, skimming down my happy trail on the way to my zipper, which he slowly lowers. “I think about you like this,” he rasps. “Seeing your skin. Imagining you naked. It’s all I see. All the time.”

“What else?” I help us both out by dragging my cock out of my boxers. I watch him watching me with his dark eyes and hooded lids, and I thicken in my own hand.

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