Page 86 of Love Me Like It's Real
“What was that for?” he asks when I pull back from the kiss and I shake my head.
I hang on to him the rest of the night. Even when Wells looks down on us, I don’t pull away and neither does Hayworth. We stay hugging the whole time as more people step up and burn their things and only break away when Hayworth and Wells put the fire out.
He gets me a drink in a Solo red cup and we retreat to his car, in the back seat, enjoying the music, each other’s company and the high from the booze.
“Are you okay?” he whispers after what feels like an eternity and I breathe as if for the first time.
“I’ve never been better,” I reply and glance up at him.
Here in the dark, the way his eyes catch the light from outside, whether it’s moonlight or just regular old headlights, the way he blinks slowly and parts his lips ever so slightly as if he needs more air, I can almost believe there’s something more here. Something real brewing between us that’s not as one-sided as I thought.
“Kiss me,” I tell him before my brain catches up and bursts the magic lie of this moment. “Kiss me, Hayworth.”
He does. And it’s so good. It’s thrilling and quiver-inducing and I feel it all the way down my spine, to my toes, to the top of my head and above it like something…spiritual.
“Should we get out of here?” he asks and I nod.
He opens the door and gets into the driver’s seat and I climb to the front as he pulls away.
“Wait. You’ve been drinking.” I grab his hand on the wheel and feel the warmth of his skin travelling up my arms like an army of butterflies.
“No, I haven’t,” he says with the same seriousness I saw in him earlier, and I let go of him so he can take me home.
We barely make it to the door before I step in his path and claim those lips again. He presses me against him, one hand on the small of my back, the other between my shoulder blades. I let a moan escape me I’ve been holding all night long and he swallows it with an insatiable hunger I can feel all the way to my bones.
Somehow, we make it through the door and into his bed and we strip each other until we’re as naked as the day we were born, our mouths tangled in a messy dance that’s both intoxicating and motivating.
We lie next to each other and our hands become instant explorers as if landing on each other’s bodies for the first time. I massage his chest and arms and slide them down to his fingers and from there find my destination. He throbs when I wrap my hand around him and when I stroke him he gasps in my mouth.
He hastily moves his hand to my own cock and plays with me as I do with him. I run my thumb over his slit and it gets sticky with his pre-cum. I bring it up to our mouths so we can taste him together. He groans into my mouth.
I return to my previous endeavor as he slips a thick finger inside me but he doesn’t stop pinching my cock and eliciting more moans out of me.
“You’re so fucking sexy when you moan,” he groans and I tug at his cock as a response until he moans too.
“You’re so fucking sexy when youmakeme moan,” I tell him and tighten my hold around him.
He catches his breath and I feel the veins on his length pop against my palm as the heat rises between us. The tension in my body grows, his finger pushing deeper inside me, my pulsating cock getting harder and harder the more he plays with it until I’m barely able to move. And yet somehow I manage to stroke him within an inch of his life and he’s gasping in my mouth.
“God! I’m so close,” he mumbles.
I push my leg between his and give him some reprieve by rubbing his taint in search of his hole that clenches at my prodding.
I don’t let that deter me. I try again and again and despite me being unable to breach his ring of muscle he moans in my mouth.
I return my fingers to his cock and slick them up with the pre-cum leaking generously out of him and creating a wet patch in the sheets under us and when I return to his hole it’s far more cooperative.
I slip a finger, then two inside him and Hayworth gasps so hard he pulls away from our kiss and rests his mouth against my chin. I curl my fingers and he does the same with his inside me and we both whimper on each other as we hit each other’s spot in sync.
“Come on, baby. Come for me. Give it to me,” I whisper in his ear and keep brushing at his prostate once, twice, three times and then I take my fingers out and stroke him with the same erratic, desperate moves that make him spill his load all over my stomach and cock.
“That’s a good boy,” I groan and stick our bodies together while he bites my lip and tries to fill his lungs with oxygen again.
But he doesn’t stop stroking and finger-fucking me. He keeps on going despite being spent and I help him by thrusting against his hand, driving his finger deeper and rubbing my cock against his until I look him in the eyes, kiss his mouth, and my own orgasm claws its way out of me and wraps around me like a comfort blanket.
“God, I love this,” he mutters, hugging me, resting his head in the crook of my neck.
“Me too,” I tell him and bring my hand up to hold him closer.
