Page 59 of Paternal Instincts
“How could I forget? You called him Herb Boy. I don’t want something crazy and out there. I want something… normal. Ordinary. Is that dumb?”
“No. We both know what it’s like growing up with names that are outside the box.”
He hummed in agreement as I shifted lower, massaging the taut globes of his ass with their pale blond, peach-fuzz hair. Quaid had the most delectable ass on the planet, and it was all due to killer genetics. The man didn’t do any superior glute exercises to earn them, they were simply a gift from god, and I thanked the big man upstairs daily because his ass was my undoing.
Bending, I kissed the pair of dimples that bracketed the base of his spine. Starting at his crease, I drew a path with my tongue, riding each vertebra as I coasted up the valley and curve of his back. He tasted like Quaid and perfumed oil, but I didn’t care. My body hummed with desire. My cock ached with need. When he shivered, I shivered in turn.
At the base of his neck, his hair, already sun-bleached from the summer, tickled my nose. I kissed along the curvature of his shoulder as I slowly dragged my erection along the crack of his ass, wedging it assnug as I could and reveling at the sensation. The oil I’d massaged into his skin facilitated the glide and radiated electricity through every cell of my body, making me feel more alive than ever.
I moved his hands above his head and threaded our fingers together as I nipped his ear and scraped my teeth along the five o’clock shadow of his jaw, seeking his mouth.
He turned his head, and I kissed him. Our tongues collided in a familiar, silky glide. Teeth clashed with the urgency of our connection. I rode the crease of his ass crack as he groaned into my mouth, moving with me, rutting his erection against the bedspread.
I broke the kiss, and he fluttered his eyes open, panting. Lust and dazed euphoria stared back at me. “Az…” His voice rasped, thick with need. “Need you.”
“Roll over.”
I gave him space to move, and he complied. I kissed him again, and he arched his hips, seeking a connection. Friction. I chuckled and pulled free of his mouth.
Straddling him, I found the oil and drizzled some over his chest, letting it pool in his navel. He shivered, with pleasure or the chill of the liquid, I wasn’t sure.
“This bed is going to be a mess,” he said.
“Don’t care.”
“That’s because you’ve never tried to get oil out of cotton sheets. It’s a nightmare.”
I recapped the bottle and leaned over him, letting our cocks brush together. “Are you asking me to stop?”
“Hell no. Keep going.”
I tossed the bottle aside and glided my hands over his chest, moving the oil to coat his skin.
It was less of a massage and more of a fondling sort of foreplay. I focused on his pecs, initially working the muscles loose but more or less teasing his nipples and enjoying his every gasp and whimper.
Quaid’s flushed cheeks and quivering lips encourage me to continue. His pupils dilated with pleasure, drowning out the blue of his irises.
When he couldn’t keep his hips planted and repeatedly hiked them off the bed, seeking friction, I moved lower, grazing his ribs so lightly with my fingertips that he squirmed. Quaid was ticklish, and his ribs were a hot spot.
I used some of the oil on myself, stroking my cock as a fire burned in Quaid’s eyes.
“Az.” He reached for me.
I caught his hand and held it. “I’m getting there.”
He whimpered an objection, conveying that I was getting there too slowly for his liking.
I shuffled lower, releasing his hand so I could focus on massaging the tops of his thighs, purposefully avoiding his swollen cock, and earning a level-ten sneer. I smirked at its presence. “That will get you nowhere.”
“Please fuck me. I want you inside me.”
“Patience.”
But Quaid didn’t have patience. Ever. Not in the bedroom. He was needy when it came to sex. He let me work on his thighs but found the oil and dumped more onto his belly. Too much. It instantly ran rivers down his sides and onto the mattress.
“Oh shit.”
I laughed. “I was being careful. Now look what you did.”
