Page 99 of Not That Complicated

I pushed him up and away. “I’ll have you know that I am very good in bed, and confident in my ability to pleasure a man.” Ew. Why had I phrased it like that?

“You are a delight,” he said. “I never know which way you’re going to jump.” He caught my hands and stretched them up and over my head to the full extent. “But sophisticated?”

I wrinkled my nose at him and sighed. “Fine. Maybe not.”

He nudged my head to the side and nibbled at my neck. “I’m intrigued by the like a virgin thing, though,” he said, and flexed his entire body against mine. His breath was hot over my skin, and he scraped his teeth along a tendon.

I let out a noise that sounded like,haaah, and humped up involuntarily as he rubbed over me.

“Yeah?” he said, sounding interested.

“What do you mean, intrigued? You want to role-play or something?” My legs came up and around his narrow hips as he began to rock into me.

Adam was leaning into one arm, leaving a hand free to stroke back my hair. He traced my eyebrow thoughtfully, drifted a fingertip down my nose and over my lips. “If you want to.”

“Me? No. I’ve never...I mean, I don’t want to. Do you?”

“I meant I like that I make you feel that way.”

“Oh. You do. Shiny and—oh. Oh.Oh, Adam.”

He’d widened his knees and rocked down hard against me. His face was flushed, eyes sparkling. I had a tendency to blotch and my ears went oddly red when I was turned on. My face was so hot, you could likely see me from space. Adam seemed to like it. At least, he couldn’t seem to look away.

I panted hard as he worked his hips against me. I dragged my hands down his hot, damp back, and moaned when my fingers slipped into the deep dimples at the base of his spine. “Hhhn,” I muttered, and grabbed his waistband. I tugged. “Off. Off, off, off.”

“Yeah.” He pushed up and back, finished unzipping himself and hauled his jeans down to his knees. He made short work of my pjs, pushing my hands away when I started fumbling. “Lift up,” he snapped.

I did, and he whisked my pj bottoms down my thighs.

He shoved his boxer briefs down, lay back on top of me and ground in.

My head fell back and I stared up at the ceiling. His body was heavy and hot and hard. He was hard all over. He rocked into me, sliding his cock over mine, alongside mine. My breath sharpened and punctuated the air with broken, staccato gasps. I caught his rhythm and we moved together in a dazzling sort of harmony.

The pleasure was intense, and more immediate than I knew what to do with. I held on and was surrounded in every way by him—his heat, his scent, his relentless movement. His breathing was low and harsh but controlled. At least in comparison to mine. I was going to lose it. Everything tightened. My thighs and stomach muscles clenched in rhythmic pulses and my balls lit up. I was going to lose it, I was going to—

Adam rolled off me and onto his back. His belt buckle jangled and I reeled, my body screaming at the sudden lack of sensation.

He sprawled back on the pillows, looking debauched. His curls were dishevelled and dark with sweat, his body glittered in the light, and he was holding his cock in one big hand, a light grimace on his face.

“Wha—” I swallowed my dry croak. “What are you doing?” I said indignantly. “Why did you stop?”

“Was gonna come,” he said, sounding as wrecked as I did.

I reached out and curled my hand tentatively around his. “Good?”

His fingers tensed under mine and he hissed. His throat bobbed. “I want to come inside you, Ray,” he said, voice low. “Will you let me do that?” He turned onto his side, gave his hips a pushy roll into my hand. His flushed cheeks and half-closed eyes made him look almost drunk. His swollen mouth looked obscene. “Let me show you?” he said.

“Yes.” I plastered myself against him. “Yes, please.”

He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and made a satisfied noise, like a low rumble. I felt it in his chest against mine. He skated a hand down my side, drifted it over my arse and down to grasp my thigh. He dragged it up over his hip as best he could while we were still tangled in our clothes.

“Yeah?” he said, hitching against me in tiny pulses. The bedclothes rustled beneath us. “You going to let me in? Open you up, nice and slow until you’re begging me for it?”

“I might not beg, but absolutely—”

“You might not?” he said in reproving disbelief, drawing his head back to look down his nose at me, all arrogant. “We’ll see, I suppose.”

“Yep.”

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