Page 18 of Isaiah and Jameson
“Baby.” He drew Isaiah into his arms, holding him, sitting with them forehead to forehead.
“I’m frightened.”
“No. No, sweet. No fear. I’m here, and I can guide you through this.”
“I’m supposed to be guiding you…”
“In public, for certain.” He chuckled, then lifted Isaiah’s shirt to blow air over one hard nip. “Here I might have more experience.”
“Experience…” Isaiah moaned, soft and low.
“Yes. I think I was learning what I needed to for you.” Flowery, but somehow honest.
Isaiah groaned for him, one hand trembling in his hair. So sweet and tentative. Oh, the things he wanted to do, but he would take it slowly. With great effort. Surprisingly difficult.
What he wanted was…he dragged his thoughts from that before he had Isaiah over his knee.
Not yet. That would come.
Isaiah tugged his hair. “Is this— you seem to be thinking very hard.”
“No, I am very hard, and I keep thinking I don’t want to rush you. But I want you.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.” Isaiah groaned and slid those hands down his arms.
“You won’t.” He pressed against that long, lean body, rubbing and rocking.
“Are you sure?” Isaiah’s eyes began to shine, fangs appearing again, the long, needlelike teeth meant to strike deep and easy.
“I am.” Hell, a werebear hadn’t been able to top him. He was pretty damn sure.
Isaiah had grown up believing the world was a sterile, icy place. The truth was much more messy. Far more difficult.
He took another kiss, giving fang for fang and they drew blood. Finally.
Isaiah’s blood was sharp, brightening him up inside. Sparks exploded behind his eyes. Christ that was good. It was like tasting lightning.
Moaning, Isaiah licked at his lips. “So dark. Like the best wine. Earthy.”
How fascinating.
“You like?” he asked, and Isaiah nodded, the sweet pale skin flushing dark.
“Good.” He bit his tongue, then offered more. He needed Isaiah wild for him.
Isaiah’s whimper was muted between their lips, and then the little body was in his lap, asking for more.
He growled, then grabbed Isaiah’s hips, guiding them together until not even air could come between their bodies. His boy was hard, leaking, shaft like a brand against him. So sweet. He grabbed that long cock, sliding his closed fingers up and down.
Isaiah gasped, and he imagined the drag of material on virginal skin was maddening. The kinds of fabric he could show Isaiah tantalized him: silk, leather, the softest fleece. Silk ties on those lean wrists, cuffs, leather straps on Isaiah’s cock.
He moaned, then bit that tender lower lip, drawing more blood. He licked it clean, sucking gently. “So sweet, baby. Delicious.”
“I can’t think.” Isaiah shook, but he knew it wasn’t fear. No, it was overwhelmed nerves and desire.
“So don’t. Don’t think. Breathe. Feel.”
“I can’t. I can feel, I mean.”
