Page 54 of On the Edge

I snort, tucking my fingers into the band and drawing the fabric down his legs. He lifts his hips to help, and I’m not proud of the way my mouth waters like I’m the Pavlov’s dog of dicks. My first view of him confirms that he’s just as perfect everywhere as his face suggests. Tossing his to the side, I pull my own boxers off and fling them behind me.

“Manscaper,” I note, planting a knee on the bed and rubbing my thumb over his hip bone. He huffs a laugh.

“It is the polite thing to do,” he tells me.

“Had this in mind, did you? Blowjobs and bread for the holidays?”

“You are too much,” he jokes, smiling widely. I look away, unable to face that much affection aimed in my direction.

I look back at where his dick is lying soft against his leg, any trace of earlier arousal gone. Leaning down, I kiss his stomach right above his belly button. Henri’s breath hitches, so I do it again. And again. When I reach his pecs, I put a hand on that patch of chest hair.

“Tell me if you want to stop,” I instruct firmly. “If you change your mind, or…or you decide you’re no longer in the mood, you have to let me know, okay?”

“I will,” he promises.

“All right. Cool. Don’t judge me on my dick-sucking prowess—I’m new here.”

He laughs, but cuts off sharply when I lean down and put my mouth on his neck, sucking gently.

17

Henri

Atlas just licked my neck.A couple of months ago, I would have found the thought of that slightly abhorrent, but today I am very much seeing the appeal. Slowly, I tilt my face to the side to try and wordlessly get him to nibble elsewhere. He’s not making any noise, just gently kissing along the lines of my tendons and bones as though creating a map of my body with his lips. It feels good. It feelsreallygood.

Carefully, I put my hand to the back of his head. He makes a small noise of approval, so I slide my fingers through the silky dark strands of his hair. I don’t want to hold his head down, but now that I’ve got contact, I don’t want to lose it.

My skin buzzes as Atlas slides a hand down my flank—ribs to thigh—and his chest brushes my stomach. He’s treading a very clear path toward my only half-hard dick, and I feel a momentary flutter of panic. I have a hard time becoming aroused, and there is no guarantee that it will happen no matter how much I like Atlas and what he’s doing.I will be incredibly embarrassed if my body doesn’t cooperate.

“Atlas,” I mutter, meaning to apologize for my uncooperative dick. When he lifts his head, I let my hand slide from his hair and back to the bed.

“You done?” he asks, and it takes me a second to work through what he’s asking. Warmth, which has nothing to do with the temperature of the room, saturates my body.

“Oh, no. I was only wanting to tell you that I might not…” I gesture vaguely at my waist. He looks down and back up at me.

“Get hard?” he clarifies, and I nod.

“I am sorry.”

His face scrunches up like he’s got something distasteful in his mouth, and scoots up far enough to drop a kiss on my lips.

“Fuck that,” he says. “Don’t be sorry. I’m hard enough for both of us.”

“That is not the way anatomy works, Atlas,” I tell him seriously, hoping to tease out a laugh as well as another kiss. I get both, so I smile against his mouth and relax further into the bed.

When he trails gentle fingertips over my cock, it feels no different than when I do it myself. But itisdifferent. If I tuck my chin, I can see the top of Atlas’ shiny head, and the pale slope of his shoulders as he continues kissing my stomach. He wraps his fingers more firmly around me, thumb teasing the tip before sliding away to explore elsewhere.

When his fingers dip lower to my balls, I spread my legs a little wider to give him more room. He doesn’t sit all the way up, but speaks against my skin, breath tickling the inside of my thigh.

“Can I suck you?” he asks, which makes me blush furiously.

“If you’d like.”

He laughs, and I gasp at the puff of warm air against my balls. Every cell in my body is waking up and tingling in awareness. My nerves feel so delicate, it’s as though they’ve been sandpapered, and my skin has never been so sensitive. As his hand strokes slowly over my length, I have the strangest desire to thank him.

By the time he wraps tentative lips around me, I’m wondering why I ever worried about being aroused. In fact, I am now worried that I will be having the opposite problem.

“Atlas,” I mumble, startled by how scratchy my voice sounds. “Atlas, I am going to come very quickly.”

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