Page 77 of The Legend Next Door
“Jeremiah,” I warn, “you shouldn’t say things like that to men like me.”
He considers me for a moment, breathing slowing, electric blue still burning bright. Then he raises his chin in defiance. “I’d let you do anything to me, Ben Stirling.”
I splutter, shocked and aroused by his blatant disregard for what I said as much as I am by his words.
“What did I just say?” My voice softens because this is serious. “I mean it, baby, you shouldn’t say things like that to anyone, okay? It’s too much power. You have to be careful. And responsible. You have to keep yourself safe. It’s more important than anything.”
“Idon’tsay things like that to anyone.” Defiance still gleams in sparkling pools. “I only say it to you. I never even thought things like that until I met you.”
I spin him around to discipline him, and he goes soft and gooey in my arms. There’s no struggle, no resistance. He knows what he did, and he accepts it needs to be corrected. Maybe he even wants it because he arches his back slightly, offering me a pretty blank canvas to paint handprints all over.
I swing my arm back in a broad arc, fully intending to bring my palm down hard, but I get stuck.
I can’t do it.
I physically can’t do it.
“Fuck,” I mutter, dropping to my knees, mashing my face into soft, warm flesh. “I can’t. It’s too sweet. This ass is too sweet.” I groan helplessly, injecting soft, wet kisses in between my words. “I should…I should spank you for that kind of talk. I should beat this little butt bright red for saying things like that when Itoldyou not to… For being…naughty…and cheeky, and…disobedient…and…a whole lot of…other things…”
When I’ve made as much of a fool of myself as I can possibly survive, I let him squirm out of my grip and steer him by the hip so he’s facing me.
I’m on my knees. He’s on his feet. His swollen dick bobs lazily near my lips. It’s not a position I’m used to, but I find I don’t mind it.
I harpoon his cheeks with one hand and lick my finger again, my pointer this time. He knows what I want and gives it to me, shifting his weight and spreading his legs just enough to give me the access I need.
We look at each other, neither of us blinking, as I slide my finger into him. A tight knot slowly comes undone. He gives way with an audible gasp.
I gasp too. I can’t help it. His grip on me is intoxicatingly tight. And hot. There’s something inexplicably necessary about being inside him like this. Something that’s been missing. Something I’ve been hurting without.
I give myself a second to look at him, to appreciate what’s happening between us. His mouth is open, eyes vague and unfocused. I wait until they land unsteadily on me, and then I curl my finger inside him. His head flicks back hard.
The sound he makes is something I feel in my marrow.
When he finally looks at me again, neither of us says a word. We both know a decision has been made. A date set.
Tomorrow.
39
Ben Stirling
Jeremiahstandsunderthearch over the gate. He’s a riot of curls, pink cheeks, and lips, with a baby-blue sky behind him. He’s perfectly framed by climbing roses. The buds are in full flower, petals unfurled and open. Buttery yellow blooms humming the song of summer. A complex mix of musky myrrh-like notes blend with ripe floral overtones, leaving the air heavy with perfume, possibility, and new things.
I stand in the doorway as he approaches. He keeps his hands at his sides, arms a little stiff as he all but trots toward me. I suspect the stiff arms are there to disguise the fact he’s in one hell of a hurry to get to me. Ordinarily, something like this would amuse me, make me laugh, make me crack a joke, but not today. Today, I can’t wait for him to get to me either.
The second he’s within reach, I grab him by the waist and pull him toward me, kicking the door closed and kissing him hard. He’s breathless and blinking harder and faster than normal by the time I release him.
I stroke his cheek lightly to reassure him. His skin is soft and smooth on the way down, rougher on the way up.
“Are you nervous?” I ask.
He wavers, searching my eyes as though he expects to find the answer there. When he doesn’t, he nods hesitantly.
“Excited?”
He nods again, eyes fixed on mine and vaguely frozen.
I take his face in both hands and kiss him chastely. “Are you scared, baby?”
