Page 47 of The Night Of
I reached for his tie and held it up. “Do you know what happens to misbehaving presidents?”
His lips parted. His breath sped up.
“They get blindfolded.”
His breath shook as I wrapped his tie over his closed eyes and around his head, looping it around and around before tying the ends over his ear. He bit his lip as I leaned back and pulled away so he didn’t know where I was on the bed. “Now, grab your legs and hold them open.”
I made him wait, lying there, spread open for me, his hole still wet and filled with my come from earlier. He looked so fucking perfect like that, open and waiting and wanting, so fucking ready. So trusting. There was no one else in the world who got to see Jonathan like this. Not a single other soul. The truth of that grabbed my heart and yanked, tried to suffocate me beneath the tide of my emotions. Trust and control and giving everything up, giving everything to another person. Those were words. Words I’d used in the army, in the Secret Service. Words I’d tossed around in team-building exercises, moments where I’d caught another agent falling backward on some ridiculous training retreat.
This was actual trust.
I ran my finger over the sole of his foot. He flinched, and his toes curled. I smiled. Kissed his ankle, the inside of his calf.
He didn’t know what was coming. All he heard was the groan of the mattress, the creak of the old bed frame, as I shifted into position. I was going to fuck him, but first, I needed to taste him again. I flicked my tongue over his wet hole. Tasted him, and me. Tasted us together.
Jonathan jerked like a live wire. A deep, body-shaking moan punched out of him. His thighs shook.
I grabbed his ass cheeks and pulled him to me, burying my face as deep as I could as I lapped at his hole. He jerked as my tongue drove into and out of him, swirling inside and collecting the taste of us. I flicked my tongue over his rim, nibbled and bit his hole. Sucked on the center of his ass, until his back bowed and my name fell from his lips in broken cries.
He was warm and wet and ready for me to slide right back inside. We both sighed as I plunged into him. He melted into the mattress as I tipped my head back, letting my bones go liquid as the feel of Jonathan roared through me again.
It was slower this time. As if we were both seeking something else. He was a raw, writhing bundle of nerves when I pulled the blindfold from him and kissed his closed eyelids, his temples, his nose, his lips. He held me, pulled me into him, wrapped his arms and legs around me and clung to me like I was everything he needed.
I sat back on my heels, dragging his hips onto my lap as I pushed my cock into him, shifting the angle. He reached for himself—
I pushed his hand away. “You’re going to come on my cock.”
He shivered. “Sean, please…”
I grabbed his hands when they tried to sneak back, threading our fingers together and holding them away from his body. “My cock. That’s it, Jonathan. I’m in charge of your orgasm. I say how and when it happens.”
His eyes blazed as he stared at me. His teeth clamped down on his lower lip.
I was still going too slowly to bring him over the edge. He knew it, too, and he tried to fuck himself on my cock. I had the upper hand, though. I pressed in deeper on my next thrust, driving into him in long strokes that made his eyes roll back and his mouth fall open.
Sweat beaded on my forehead. My cock ached, not used to this kind of sex, this intensity, this raw, carnal power. I was long-dicking him, using every inch, from my root to the head, then pulling out before plunging back in. He groaned with every stroke, every push into the center of him. I was reciting breach tactics in my mind, technical specifications for every caliber of Glock there was, trying to hold back from going over before Jonathan.
“Say it again,” Jonathan whispered. His fingers were still laced through mine. “Please, say it again. Please.” His cock was leaking, a pool of precome filling his belly button.
Say what again? I tried to think of the last thing I said. Something about him only coming on my cock—
Oh.
“Jonathan…” It was my turn to close my eyes. Try to hold back the tremble of my soul. His legs clenched around my waist. His fingers squeezed and released, squeezed and released. “I love you. I love you so fucking much.”
He came as I growled out my declaration, as if he’d been waiting to hear it before he could come. Begging, in fact, to hear that I loved him. Watching him scream as he came apart pushed me over the edge, and I cried out his name as I buried my face in his neck and thrust as deep as I could.
He tried to speak, tried to find my gaze and stare into me, tried to say something in return, but I flew forward, caging him to the mattress with my arms and my hands, and kissed him hard, until his jerks and shudders and shivers had quieted into sighs and tiny trembles.
“Sean—” Jonathan started.
“Shhh.” I kissed him again. “Don’t say anything. You don’t need to.” Suddenly, I didn’t need to hear the words. Not when he came because I told him I loved him. “Know, Jonathan. Know that I love you.”
Twelve
The last thing I wanted,after a night like that, was to be woken up by my cell phone vibrating across the hardwood floor. Groaning, I dragged myself out of Jonathan’s bed and fished my cell from my pants pocket. Jonathan grabbed the pillow I’d been using and pulled it to him, burying his face in the depression where my head had been. He’d been holding me as we slept, big-spooning me after we finally stopped trading kisses.
I hadn’t slept that hard in years. I had four missed calls, all from the same unknown number, all in the past two minutes.
