Page 59 of Contingently Yours
His hand disappears, and his hips stop grinding into mine. I flare my eyes open, wondering what I did wrong. Does he like how wanton he makes me or not? I don’t get it. When I spot the bottle of lube in his hand as he brings it back down behind me, I think I have my answer.
Shit. Round two. I think I’m about to get what I didn’t realize I just asked for.
“Why can’t you look at me when you mouth-breathe like that?” I hear him ask and realize I’m staring at his lips. “Or do you just prefer staring at my mouth?”
Said mouth ticks up at the corner just before it captures mine, and I hear the lube bottle cap flick open. A rush of butterflies flips inside my chest at the sound. When my tongue connects with his, I’m no longer feather-light. I’m a thousand pounds of melting man, incinerated by the connection. How has kissing never felt this good before?
My morning grogginess evaporates, and a message becomes clear. This is really happening.
Me.
Andrew.
Atomic passion.
Right here. Again. And…I can’t think of a single reason to fight it.
Slipping my fingers into the back of his hair, I pour myself into the kiss and hike my knee higher up his thigh, unsure if he needs more access. He seemed to do all right last night, although he said he’d never been with a man. Oddly, and despite that, Idotrust him. When his fingertip returns, it’s slick and cool this time, lighting up my entrance in anticipation.
Entrance… I’ve always thought of my asshole as an ‘exit,’but I want nothing more than to feel a part of him expanding me again. Andrew may be careless in all things, but I’m starting to realize not when it comes to pleasuring me.
He must appreciate my eagerness because he groans right along with me when he inserts that wicked fingertip of his. It still feels strange and kind of foreign, but only for a second. Then it just feels like home, like I’m home with him. Bizarre, I know, but I’m too far gone to analyze it. He connects with my prostate and circles it, making my eyes cross and my head fall back ona throaty moan. His mouth envelops my Adam’s apple, and his hips buck into mine.
“Damn, Tufty,” he rasps against my throat. “Goddamn.”
His mouth sucks on my neck again, probably leaving a mark. It’s vicious and almost painful, but sinfully exquisite all at once. I writhe uncontrollably, mad for more friction where our cocks are rubbing between us. I don’t even know if this is considered any kind of sex or foreplay, but it damn well should be.
“Yeah,” he pants, “grind that cock against me.”
I want to. Lord, do I ever, but want and ability are two different things. I find my hand on his ass and realize it’s the first time I’ve ever felt it. It’s firm and bulky, so unlike any other I’ve touched. I press him into me to help eradicate any semblance of space that may be left between us. All I know right now is that I’ve never felt this incredible, that he wants me, and that I think most of my feeling incredible is because of how much he seems to want me.
My gaze connects with his, and I can’t decide whether it was the worst or best idea in the history of unplanned ideas. It’s like being shown the true definition of passion. Whatever I thought I knew before wasn’t it. I crash my mouth into his and give over any amount of restraint I was hanging onto. Hot, wet heat erupts between us. My cock is pulsing. My body is convulsing. Andrew cries out into my mouth, and the heat amplifies between us, telling me he’s coming with me. I’m clawing at him and clinging to him. His finger at some point turned into two without me even realizing, and it’s the most comforting sensation of fullness I didn’t know I needed. Sore, but comforting all the same. It feels like I earned it. Earned something more than a dalliance from Andrew Broadhouse.
My grip slackens as I come down, and he slips free of my hole. His hand stays there, though, kneading slow circles across theglobe of my ass. I can barely breathe, but drunkenly accept each surprising little kiss he gives me. One after another.
We’re kissing, and we don’t have to. No one’s watching. Which means we’re really kissing. Someone is kissing me because they want to kiss me. Vaguely, I’m aware of a distracting sound, but I try to blot it out. It’s not until I hear a voice that I realize it was likely knocking.
“Hey, fellas. We’re up and about whenever you’re ready,” Mason’s voice calls from the doorway.
Oh shit! Catching sight of him over Andrew’s shoulder, I stiffen and follow my instinct—burying my head under Andrew’s chin.
“Sorry, I thought maybe you didn’t get to set an alarm with the power outage last night. It’s half-past nine already, but take your time. We’re in no hurry. Just wanted to let you know we saved you some breakfast.”
Andrew’s arms tighten around me, but he cants his head backward toward Mason. “Thanks. Give us a bit to shower and we’ll be out. Sorry, we must have lost track of time.”
“No apologies needed, but you were right, Lucas; the place is brilliant.”
The door closes, and I release a breath. “Fuck,” I mutter and swipe my hand down my face.
I completely forgot about showing the Hepperlys the rest of the property today. I wonder how much of it they’ve snooped on their own without me to upsell the features.
“Hey,” Andrew chimes in, drawing my hand away, “it’ll be fine. Come on. Let’s get cleaned up, and then you can work your magic.”
My magic? Who is he?
He pats me on the cheek and climbs out of bed. I’m left looking down at the mess covering my stomach and the morning light streaming in to illuminate it.
“You coming?” a cheerful voice calls. I glance up and find him waggling his eyebrows at me by the bathroom door. “We can play army.”
