Page 67 of Contingently Yours
Mouth parted, he looks to be searching for words. “I really like my piano,” he finally says.
My heart skips a beat, and I grip his arm. Unable to look him in the eye over the silly little trinket that kept me occupied the other night, while he was miserable. I avert my gaze, but can’t fight the smile his praise brings me.
“I need to fuck you,” he whispers.
I couldn’t possibly have heard what I think I just heard. When my gaze snaps back to his, though, his hand moves lower, covering my ass. He gives it a squeeze that makes my cock flex behind the fabric of my underwear as he leans in.
“Need to behere,” he murmurs and brushes his lips against mine. His index finger trails down between my ass cheeks, and he looks into my eyes. “Doyouwant me there, Lucas?”
I’m not a monk. I love sex, but I don’t think I’ve ever wanted it so badly—even though I have no idea if it will feel as good as his fingers did. But I want Andrew. I want to be the first man he’s ever been with. I want him to be mine.
Stepping back on wobbly knees, I hook my thumbs under the waistband of my underwear and drag them down. I hope the look I give him tells him my answer before I bend over. There’s nothing worse than underwear lying around on the floor. Communal living in the military taught me that, so I slide them off at the ankle and toss them where they land on the top of my suitcase, hoping I still look sexy. He lets out a stifled groan that makes me shudder. Turning, I climb onto the bed and wait on my knees, unsure of what to do next.
I can hear his soft exhale from here. Watching his towel drop, my skin goes up in flames. All ofthatis for me. I’m sure he’s bared himself a hundred times for others, but this time, right now, it’s just for me.
He moves to his bag, rifling around in it until he produces his bottle of lube. Thank goodness one of us is thinking clearly enough to be prepared. When he slides a knee onto the bed, I’m determined not to be a statue and take the bottle from his hand. Lying back, I draw my feet up to the base of my ass so I can access what he asked for. Spreading my knees, I feel so exposed, but in a way that makes me feel desirable, as though I possess something valuable. Maybe it’s the way his jaw drops as he stares at me when I dribble some lube into my hand and run it between my cheeks. I’ve never touched myself there intimately. Watching him watch me removes any thought of inhibitions.
Shannon asked me a few times if I wanted to watch her pleasure herself. I declined, thinking it felt like an invasion of privacy or would make her feel like our regular foreplay wasn’t enough. Looking back, I realized maybe I’d disappointed her by turning her down.
As Andrew grips his cock and gives it a slow stroke, looking drugged, four years of feeling inadequate evaporate. She and I just weren’t the right people for each other. Because right now, I know I could watch Andrew do that—and let him watch me—for hours.
Picking up the lube bottle, he murmurs, “Get your hole, handsome.”
Handsome… I know he’s never said the things he says to me to another man. It gives them importance, the way they slip effortlessly like that from his lips.
Circling my ring, I press inside. It’s instantly apparent that it’s easier and feels better when he does it, but I don’t want to give up. Staring at the sheen on his cock from the lubehe’s applying, the sensation transforms into something more sensual, knowing that he’ll soon be inside me. Except…the longer I stare at his slow strokes, taking him from root to tip, I grow wary of the geometry. He’s not overly well-endowed. It’s just an average-size cock. It’s not even as thick as mine. Yet, a sliver of worry snakes its way through me. Will I be able to do this? Physically?
He distracts me by bending down. His face presses to my navel, against the side of my cock. He buries his face in the thatch of hair there, a feature I once thought he was mocking me for, and groans. My tense breathing turns into a gasp of pleasure. The next thing I feel is his slick fingertip circling the edge of my stretched ring. Planting his other hand on the bed, he works a path of kisses up my body until his breath mingles with mine.
His mouth melds to mine like melted butter, less commanding and greedy than usual. “Want some company?”
It turns out that wasn’t flirty commentary for him joining me for a kiss. His fingertip presses against mine, where my body is hugging me. The idea of both of our fingers inside me at the same time has me swallowing against a glob of lust. I nod.
Expression attentive, he holds my gaze like he’s intent on reading my every reaction to make sure I’m okay. It’s a picture of the sweet Andrew, the one who’s turned me into a heart-eyed fool. I feel the press of his fingertip and exhale. My ring stretches and burns, but then it gives way, and he joins me. The contrasting angles of our fingers have me expanded more than he ever has. It’s all I can do just to breathe. Closing my eyes, I zone in on the moment. A mix of imagination and feeling the reality sheds the discomfort, and a groan peels out of my throat when his fingertip traces my gland.
Close suddenly doesn’t seem like enough. Reaching up, I grip his hair and pull him to me. Tasting his tongue, hints of his beerand burger, I pour the anguish of my maddening need into his mouth. Pretty soon, my forearm is strained from trying to flex and add to the motion inside of me. Abruptly, he pulls out and stares down at me.
“That’s enough,” he pants. “I’m going to come just from listening to you if you keep that up.”
I wanted more. I nearly forgot there’s more to come. Withdrawing my finger, I watch him slide his knees underneath my thighs and shift my hips to help him. Everything is still so new—the heat from his cock so close to mine, the way I’m lying like this. I feel like I’m discovering sex for the first time, but at an age where I can truly appreciate it. It’s like getting a do-over.
He dribbles more lube onto his cock and runs his hand over it. With what remains, he makes a languid pass over mine.
“You good?”
Good?I’m dying here, teetering on the edge of a cliff somewhere between want and anxiety.
“Fuck me,” I urge, even as my face burns from the boldness of my demand.
You’d think I just made the air thicker the way his nostrils flare. Running his hand down my thigh, he uses his other to line himself up.
Hell, just the feel of his slippery cockhead against my hole has me sighing like it’s a muscle relaxer. It’s more than two fingers, though, so I lay my head back and close my eyes. There’s pressure and then more. I fight not to hold my breath, but I can feel myself stretching to the point of concern. The sheets are balled in my fists to combat the slicing sensation that’s threatening any bliss I’d previously found. Flaring my eyes open, I find his concerned gaze on me. I do not want to throw in the towel, but damn. I don’t know whether I can do this. Averting my gaze to the ceiling, I focus on my breathing, gritting my teeth, but a pained groan escapes me.
I open my mouth involuntarily, trying to hold back the ceasefire I want to beg for, but feel a hand wrap around my waning cock. His thumb swirls over my tip.
“Lucas, look at me.”
He sounds as strained as I feel. That touch, however, that request, and the look in his eyes as something gives way, has me exhaling as he passes through my ring. My muscles let up, and I find myself panting. I don’t dare move. He’s there. He’s in.
