Page 134 of Finance Bros

I seek out his mouth, and once we make the connection, he wraps his arms around me, and we fall into the beanbag together.

Massaging his ass cheeks, I work them around my shallowly thrusting cock as his tongue delves deep into my mouth. He delivers his moans directly to my throat, my chest. Our movements are limited, but that only makes the closeness more intimate.

Slight clenches of his hole put us in sync, and we maintain a lazy rhythm, as languid as the kiss. Fucking him like this is intensely erotic. I’ve never been so turned on—so locked in—soconnectedduring sex. I wish I could think of a better word for it, but the only one coming to mind is special. This is so fuckingspecial.

Letting go of his ass, I run my hands up his back and make sure he’s pressed as tightly as he can be to me. When I feel his leaking cock on my abs, I work my stomach muscles over him until he turns his head to gasp and whimper. “Jesus, Ryan…it’s so good. You feel so fucking good.”

I kiss his neck while he’s catching his breath, but soon enough our lips are sealed together again. Our tongues move in that frenzy I was trying so hard to put off before, but I’m starving for him now, rapidly approaching the end of my control because this is Mal. This isMalmaking love to me and giving me shadows of feelings past, but also new ones—huge ones.

What the fuck am I so afraid of? Why do I think this unending feeling can be pushed aside like it’s nothing? Why did Ieverthink it could? What difference does Kaylin make when Iknow how completely I’ve fallen for him? The fantasy of loving him was one thing, but the reality of it is unlike anything I could have imagined. It’s worse in some ways—admittedly. He’s needy and messy and moody as fuck, but in the ways it’s better—it’s exponential.

He’sintome. He might even be lowkey obsessed with me. He’s possessive and passionate and beyond affectionate. He also takes me so fucking well—and for me, who’s never felt like I’ve belonged anywhere—I fit perfectly here.

A quickening in my groin locks and loads my balls. Biting his lip, I break away. “Close,” I whisper.

“Touch me,” he begs, his breath shaky and stretched thin.

I do, sliding my hand between our abs and fisting his cock. He gives me just enough room to move, but mostly he thrusts through it as I shove into him, chasing our release. I want him to come with me.

Our mouths find our way back to each other. The kiss is wet and sloppy and delicious. Too good. “Mal…” My voice breaks. “I can’t. You feel so fucking good.”

“Yeah,” he groans. “God, Ry, fuck, yeah. Come inside me. Fill me up, baby.”

OhGod…I bury my cock deep in his ass and let the bone-shattering orgasm take me. Shuddering and grunting, I do my best to keep holding him, keep kissing him as blood drains from my head and leaves me dizzy and stupid. A rutting animal.

Mal gasps once—twice—and his warm cum slicks my hand and abs as his cock throbs in my tight fist.

My orgasm is still wrecking me, my dick still pulsing out erratic spurts spurred on by everything I notice about him. His catching breath. His wet lips. His sweat-slicked chest and his quivering body. I run a hand up his spine and grip his neck while we quake against each other, riding it out.

When every drop has left us, I let his dick go, and hesmashes his body to mine, burying his face in my hair and holding me tight.

I return the embrace as his spasming hole sends intense aftershocks zapping across my hips and down my legs. “It’s so fucking good with you.”

He kisses my neck, and that’s how I know I’m the one who said it. His response is quiet and non-intrusive. “Maybe you’ll wanna keep me around, then.”

25

MALCOLM

Ryan swallows my load and looks up at me. “Why do you keep apologizing?”

“I don’t know,” I pant, collapsing onto my back.

“I liked it better when you just said I love you on a loop.”

“I think I just…” Fuck knows what I’m thinking. He just sucked out my brain cells. “I’m sorry.”

He chuckles. “Stop.”

He crawls onto the sex chair—aka the beanbag—with me and presses his erection against my hip. While I catch my breath, he messes with my nipples. Stroking and squeezing them, watching them blanch and then redden up again, all the while getting more and more swollen. I’m a shivering mess—I think I might still be coming.

“Seriously,” he says, finally laying off my nipples and resting his chin on my shoulder. “What are you sorry about?”

“I figure—I don’t know…you don’t wish I could go more than once a day?”

“Go?”

“Take your dick?”

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