Page 105 of Shift Change

“Get up so I can take your clothes off. I want to see you naked.”

38

mad dog

The room was cloakedin shadow, lit only by the small lamp Nate always left on near the door. It cast a pool of amber light spilling across the floor like it was guarding the edges of a dream. Warmth coursed through me as I realizedwewere the dream, wrapped around each other, a tangle of limbs and heat and skin. My thigh was hooked over his, and he’d flung one of his arms across my ribs. His hand had found its way to the back of my neck in the night, holding me like he was afraid I might slip away.

His heartbeat was steady against my chest. Our rhythms didn’t match exactly—mine was a little faster, his a little deeper—but together, they formed something complete, a living call and response. The beats overlapped and whispered across each other, the embodiment of a promise:I’m still here.

I closed my eyes again, not to sleep but to absorb the moment, the quiet miracle of love. With Nate, I relaxed into the impossible peace of a man who’d nearly lost everything and was now cradling the one thing that mattered most.

Driven by nature’s call, I peeled myself away from him, causing him to stir. A low, sleepy groan slipped from his throat, and he mumbled something indecipherable as his arm tightened instinctively around nothing.

He was still sprawled on the bed when I came back. Since I didn’t want to wake him, I sat in a chair across the room and watched him sleep. He was still on his right side, facing the hollow where I’d been, and he’d stretched his arm over the mattress. Was he protecting my spot, keeping the place warm for when I returned? I ached to climb back in and fold myself around him, but seeing him this way—so vulnerable yet determined to make room for me—made me love him even more.

The sheets were bunched around his ankles, leaving him completely bare. Silvery light filtering through the blinds created shadows that traced the graceful lines of his shoulders and the lean strength of his back. He was relaxed, and my heart beat faster as my gaze skated over him, lingering on every exquisite detail.

He shifted, and the muscles in his back softened. The line of his backbone flowed into the dip at his waist and the long sweep of his thighs. As often as I’d seen him naked, the sight still stole my breath. My cock lengthened as I thought about all the pleasure we’d shared. Nate was a perfect lover, hot as hell and ready to do anything either of us wanted.

A snort, then he rolled onto his back, looking like he’d been carved by a master sculptor. His chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm, his massive pecs shifting with every breath. Lower down, his abs rippled, shadowed lines etched across his torso, each one begging to be licked.

With his extraordinary body on display, I couldn’t sit and watch any longer. My dick rose to full mast when I stood and crossed to the bed. He didn’t move as I climbed between his legs and grazed my fingertips up his thighs. It was time to reconnect in a way he’d never forget.

His cock was hard, straining as only morning wood can, the thick veins making it look built to destroy. He didn’t even twitch when I licked the head. I toyed with him—trailing a finger along his shaft, sucking the head, and licking his balls. Those were all things he loved, and if he were awake, he’d have been begging for me to suck his dick. Instead, he sighed when I wrapped my hand around his erection and squeezed. He didn’t move, but another soft exhalation told me he was enjoying it somewhere in his reptilian brain.

A trickle of precum appeared when I squeezed again. My dick throbbed as I licked his balls and nibbled on the sac. It was heady having so much power over him, but with that came a sense of responsibility. Nate was my man, and I was determined to take care of him.

I moved my hand to the base of his cock and took the top half into my mouth. He groaned, low and quiet, and his hips shifted, pushing a little deeper. It was instinct, nothing like the way he moved when he was awake.

Keeping the pace slow, I sucked gently. Each pull drew another soft sound from his throat. God, he tasted like sleep and salt and his distinctive musk. I closed my eyes and stayed with it, savoring every twitch, every murmur, and every inch of him that said yes even in his dreams.

His precum was sweet and dusky. I sucked a little harder, then removed my hand and drew him completely inside my mouth. Maintaining the same easy rhythm, I sucked even harder and tickled his balls. He whimpered and moaned when I played with the thick hair on the inside of his thigh. I combed my fingertips through it, and goddamn if he didn’t purr. My dick throbbed again.

Nate’s leg twitched as he pushed deeper into my mouth. He was still unconscious, but barely. His groans had weight now—sleepy and needy, almost there.

I sucked harder, moved faster, and cupped his balls, rolling them gently before squeezing. His cock slid across my tongue, thick and hot, and I moaned around it without meaning to. I couldn’t help it; I was too turned on, already too far gone and grinding against the bed as I worked him deeper.

He let out another broken sound, and I reached up to squeeze the base of his cock again, holding him steady while I took him in, one slow, wet inch at a time.

He let out a hoarse snort and shifted, driving deep into my throat with a rough, instinctive thrust.

“Fuck yes,” he groaned, voice ragged with need. His fingers tangled in my hair like he’d been dreaming about this. “Suck it, babe.”

The words hit me like a match to dry tinder. I went to work, flicking my tongue along the underside of his shaft, sucking him hard and deep, then dragging my nails behind his balls to stroke his taint. His body jerked. I could feel the ripple of tension in his thighs and the hard throb in his cock. He moaned like he was waking up into a dream too good to be real.

“Shit,” he breathed, yanking my hair and thrusting again. The tip of his cock slammed the back of my throat and made me gag, but I didn’t stop. I wanted every inch of him, longed to wring every sound from his throat until he didn’t know where he ended and I began.

“Fucking yes,” he gasped. “God, Chuck.”

His voice cracked on my name, and it burned through me—love and lust and gratitude rolled into one flawless, filthy sound. He was mine, and I was going to give him everything.

I let go of his taint and wrapped my fingers around the slick base of his cock again. Spit coated him, running in messy rivulets, and I smeared some onto my fingertip before sliding lower again. He moaned when I circled his hole—a long, guttural sound—and ground into my face before thrusting backward, as if he couldn’t decide which he wanted more: to fuck my mouth or get my finger inside him.

He was a man possessed. He gripped my head and thrust faster and rougher, as if chasing his orgasm was the only thing keeping him alive.

“Damn,” he hissed. “I’m close.”

I pressed on his hole, and he opened for me. He groaned as I slipped my finger in, and when I found his tight, swollen prostate, his body convulsed.

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