Page 15 of Beautifully Complicated

“Aiden,” he mumbles against my lips. “Fuck me.”

Chapter four

Kier

Sinful.

Temptation personified.

Beautiful.

How else can I describe the man who asked me to take him home? Whom I obliged by bringing to my bed? Whose made my body vibrate in ways previously unknown to me, all of which he did before our lips even met. And when they did, all sense of reason was lost to me.

The only thing I knew was want. Need. Desire.

Now I’m spread out before him, begging for his cock, and I’ve never been more excited to do something so debauched.

How can this man think he’s not sexy?

Though to be fair, it’s not his face or his body that I find most appealing. It’s his mind. The way he listens so intently, asks thoughtful questions, and walks a line between playful and real… I love an active mind, and when you put it behind the face of an angel with a body built for sin, you’ve got sex incarnate.

I’m not an impulsive man, but I couldn’t say no to that. Hell, I just asked him for it.

Aiden shivers at my request, lusty eyes raking over me from under heavy lids. Then he swipes his tongue along mine before moving away to grab the lube, and scoots between my legs as he coats his fingers. Yet it’s not the way he rubs them together to warm the liquid that has my cock standing at attention, it’s the reverent way he looks at me.

Yeah, he just told me my body is incredible, but I have the sense that superficial observation doesn’t encompass the admiration in his gaze. It’s part of it, but just as I find his mind intriguing, I get the sense he feels the same way about me.

He hasn’t said or done anything to confirm that, it’s just an inkling I have based on our earlier conversations, but it feels right. Almost like that thought I had when we first met, the one about recognizing another old soul, is something that crossed his mind as well.

I’m not saying we’re two halves of a whole—that would be ridiculous given the age difference and the fact that we’ve both already acknowledged this thing is only for tonight—although it’s probably fair to say there’s a connection here that goes beyond sexual chemistry. One that is enhancing every look. Every taste. Every touch.

Taking my cock loosely in his fist, Aiden strokes me with one hand while probing my hole with the other. His skillful fingers apply just the right amount of pressure, building my desire, while the hand on my dick distracts me from any discomfort. It’s something an experienced lover would think to do, although in Aiden’s case, I think it’s more a desire to make me comfortable than first-hand experience dictating his actions.

I may be projecting, putting more weight than I should on that comment about it being a while for him too, but I find myself foolishly wishing that there haven’t been many before me.

What is he doing to me?

The pressure on my hole increases slightly as Aiden seeks entrance, and with a heavy exhale I do my best to relax. Though I can’t do it fully—anticipation has me out of sorts—I let go enough that he can push in to the first knuckle.

“Oh, God,” I groan as that finger probes in shallow strokes.

“Too much?” Aiden stills immediately.

“No. God no. That feels incredible.”

The worry creasing his brow fades as he pushes deeper, pulling another salacious groan from my lips.

I’m so tight, so sensitive, that a single finger nearly stretches me to the brink. But it doesn’t feel foreign. In fact, with each gentle thrust my body seems to reclaim more and more of its sexual appetite, pulling the digit in. The further he delves inside me, the harder it is to keep my hips still. To stop from chasing the release I want to delay as long as possible.

“Damn, Kier,” he whispers, never taking his gaze away from what he’s doing. “You’re squeezing me so hard. I’m not sure I’ll last inside you.”

“That makes two of us.”

“That’s not your normal role, so it’s understandable. I usually top, and I’m a little worried I won’t last past the first push.”

“I’m not talking about when the roles are reversed, Aiden.” His warm coffee eyes meet mine when I say his name. “I’m talking about this, right now.” I suck in a ragged breath as his finger pulls back to tease my entrance, then pushes back in. “You’ve got me wound so tight I’m afraid I’ll have to count just to make it the first minute.”

A knowing smile spreads across his face. “Along Came Polly,” he recites the name of the movie I’d been referencing. “That’s more my era than yours.”

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