Page 45 of The Night Of
“I’ll beg,” he panted. “Tell me to. I’ll beg.”
I dropped gentle kisses to his lips, making him whine. He was a rocket at Mach10, and I wanted to make it last forever.
And I wanted him on top.
I wrapped my arms around him, one hand on his shoulder and the other on his hip, and rolled us again, this time bringing him onto my lap. His cock was pressed between our bellies, scorching hot and slick with precome.
I grasped his ass in both of my hands and spread him open. His hole hovered over my cock.
We breathed each other in and out, our inhales and exhales merging. Every moment we shared—every hidden smile, every stolen glance, every heartbreak and nightmare and revelation, every dream I’d had about him and that he’d had about me—all came down to this moment.
I captured his lips and sank into his body.
Sliding into Jonathan was like finding the place I was meant to be, a place I’d searched for my whole life and only ever found the echoes of. I cursed, breathed Jonathan’s name. Ran my hands up his back and buried them in his hair. His eyes, locked on mine, were so big and wide I could see the white all the way around his iris. I held him immobile, grinding into him, moving too fast to be gentle.
I wanted to go slowly, wanted to make this last, but one taste of Jonathan and I was fucking gone. I surrendered, giving in to the need between us, inside us, and took his lips as I plunged up into his body, driving my cock into his tight hole, into his perfect ass, over and over again.
His eyes squeezed closed, and he let me kiss him as he keened, raw, throaty breaths tearing out of his throat. I watched him, waiting for his lips to shape the wordhazel, for him to say this was too much.
But he didn’t.
Whimpers escaped him, moans and gasps that fell on my cheeks. I heard my name in there, too, a near-silentSeanandpleaseandperfectandGod.
I held his face. “Open your eyes.” They fluttered open, his eyelids heavy, like he was on another plane of reality.
There was no going back. I kissed him and felt his heartbeat pounding against my chest, inside my chest. I was finally inside him, my soul sliding into him as we became one. I could never—would never—make love this intensely again, not with any other man.
Hell, I could never fuck another man. Not after this. Nothing would ever compare.
I sat up, bringing him with me as I mouthed my way down his jaw, nibbling on his throat and his collarbone. He tipped his head back, going limp as I ran my palms down the curve of his back, dug my fingertips into his ass cheeks. Bit his pec and then thrust up into him.
He lifted his arms and dropped his tied wrists behind my neck. He clung to my shoulders, arching his spine and pushing his chest into my open-mouthed kiss. Another breathless, formless sob pushed out of him, nothing but ecstasy and emotion.
I watched him: his face, his body, their cues. The heave of his chest, the sweat-slick skin over his throat. The way his lips trembled and how he bit his bottom lip. Moaned my name, tossed his head back as I sucked his nipple. He bucked against me, shivering all the way up his spine. I slapped his ass, gripped the meaty cheeks.
More, I needed more. I tipped him back, pulling out so I could get him onto his knees. He braced himself on his elbows, his face pressed to that damn quilt, and I plunged back inside him in one hard thrust. He screamed my name, loud enough for the gatehouse agents to hear. I spanked him again, both hands slapping his perfect cheeks, and then squeezed. Left ten perfect finger bruises on his skin. Pulling back, I watched my cock slide in and out of him, saw his hole grip down on me. Watched the join of our bodies as I plunged back into him.
I fucked him until I saw stars, until my vision began to fray at the edges. The sounds that came out of him were fucking music to my soul. I wasn’t silent, either, grunting and growling and cursing, whispering his name as I pounded into him hard enough that my balls slapped against his.
I took him right to the edge, to where his balls were tightening and his back was arching and he was screaming into the quilt, and then I pulled out, flipped him onto his back. He roared, his eyes searching for mine, and he reached for me with his tied hands, his lips moving as he tried to beg, to plead for his orgasm.
“Together,” I breathed, sliding into him in one hard thrust. I felt my own toes curl. Our eyes met and held. I grabbed his thigh and pressed it against my side. He lifted his arms over my head again, the ends of his tie dangling from his wrists and over my shoulder, teasing the curve of my neck.
“Jonathan,” I whispered. I was too close, and I couldn’t hold back anymore. Damn it, I wanted him to come first. “Jonathan…”
He kissed me, captured my lips, pulled me down into him. Something passed between us in that moment, need and fury and passion, electricity and fire and a thousand nights of craving. I screamed into the kiss and slammed myself so deep inside of him I think our atoms collided, a fusion reaction blasting me into a nuclear orgasm. It burned through me, traveled down every nerve of my being, ignited a firestorm that crawled to the outer reaches of my soul.
Jonathan roared, his ass clenching around me just before his cock erupted and he came apart in my arms. I memorized the moment: how he bit his lip and arched his throat and cried out, how my name shaped his lips, how his broken, awestruck voice sounded in my ears. It was perfect, every microsecond, and I couldn’t stop the words from tumbling from me. “Jonathan, I love you. I fucking love you so much.”
* * *
We were still tryingto catch our breath ten minutes later. I was still inside him, my cock semihard and my hips trying to thrust. He was a raw, trembling mess, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, thighs quivering where they clenched around me. I kissed away each tear, brushed my lips over his cheek, his temple. “Jonathan?”
He wasn’t back yet. He was still floating, lost in the release. Everything was still dialed up to the max, all his senses heightened, his mind and his emotions centered in the lovemaking we had just shared. He’d been gone, absolutely gone, when I’d told him I loved him.
And he hadn’t said anything in return.
I tried not to let that get to me. It didn’t mean hedidn’tlove me. Or that he was rejecting me. Three words in the heat of the moment did not define a relationship.
