Page 10 of If You Never Come Back
“Fuck,” I gasp, one hand tangled in his hair, the other tangled in the sheets.
He pauses, lifting his head up from between my legs, licks his lips, and smirks.“In a second.”
The moment he resumes, I’m gone. Climax rips through me, taking my body with it. Every muscle in me cramps, every inch of me thrashes against the mattress. I cry out, but it’s nothing sensible, nothing that can be considered words. Just screams and moans and gasps.
But Wes seems to understand me perfectly. It’s in that satisfied stare he flashes me, that taunting half-smile that quickly turns into a Cheshire cat grin. And then I know it’s finally my turn.
Pushing myself up to a sitting position, I claw at his flannel shirt.
He chuckles, slowing my hands by placing his on top of mine. “Buttons, remember?”
I laugh an embarrassed “sorry,” but he places his index finger under my chin and presses a soft kiss to my mouth.
“Don’t apologize. Do you have any idea how hot it is to have you clawing at me?”
His shirt lands on the floor. He leans up to take his pants off while I flip on my bedside lamp.
“Wait.” I still him with a hand on his forearm. “I just want to…” My hands finish for me. I run my palm against the mass of lines and muscle that is his upper body. Tracing my index finger along the lines of his stomach earns me a soft laugh.
He squints down at me. “Have I passed inspection?”
“With flying colors. Hiking gets you pretty ripped, huh?”
Wes shrugs. “I wanted to get into shape for my trip.”
“You sure did. Nicely done.”
I press the pads of my fingers against each of his abs. So, so many abs.
Leaning forward, I press a feathery-soft peck against the left half of his Adonis belt. His breath catches above me. I reach over to the drawer of my nightstand and tear a condom from the packet I bought months ago.
When I turn back to him, I blink. Judging by the generous bulge under those gray striped boxers, I’m in for one hell of a good time.
“May I?” I ask.
Flushed cheeks flank his close-lipped smile when he nods. When I pull down his boxers, I’m the one flushing.
“Am I glad I met you,” I say.
He chuckles, his eyes shy. But when I slide my tongue over his tip, the chuckling soon turns to grunts.
“Shay. Fuck…” Wes hisses as I lick up and down.
I’m not skilled enough to take all of him fully in my mouth, but he doesn’t seem to mind. What I manage with my mouth and my hand seems to satisfy judging by the way he groans and the way his hand grips my shoulder for dear life.
Soon he pulls me off and gently pushes me back down on the bed. Swiping the condom from my hand, he rips it open with his teeth, then slides it on. He hovers over me, and I’m flanked on either side by sculpted arms. I’m tempted to lean up so I can lick and bite him, but he holds either side of my head between his palms.
“That was incredible, but I want this. Is that okay?”
Enthusiastic nodding is my answer. When he slides in, my jaw falls open. A breathy howl escapes me. That size and that girth are a hell of a combination.
I gasp for air. “How…how do you feel so good?”
It’s a silly question, but my mind is pleasure-mush, unable to process anything other than thrusts and heat. Well-worded questions are a no-go.
“Funny,” he grunts. “I was just about to ask you the same thing.”
We both laugh, then moan in unison. I’m back to my commands of harder, slower, faster, more. Every slide, every thrust is heaven on my body.
