Page 40 of Breathe
Real moved down and took those lush lips with his mouth, sucking and laving inside, kissing Azrael breathless.
And slowly slid inside.
“Fuuuuck.” The long, drawn-out word was ripped from Azrael’s throat, and Real paused, pulled back from the kiss, and tried to look away.
He found his gaze caught and held by Azrael’s. There wasn’t pain. There wasn’t hesitancy, there was only desire.
And what scared him shitless was the fact that his universe was suddenly altered.
He shook his head in silent denial and thrust in deeper until he bottomed out. The tight squeeze of Azrael around him brought a guttural growl from his lips.
Unable to slow down, Real grabbed Azrael’s slender hips, lifted the boy’s ass and pounded home. Azrael’s legs fell lax beneath his assault, and his hands gripped the torn sheets.
Sweat slicked Real’s body and dripped down, wetting Azrael’s chest. Gripping Azrael’s shoulders for leverage, Real lost it. Chills covered his body, and his release roared up and over him. He jerked and shot his come deep.
Every inch of him was granite hard, from his face to his dick.
A cold fear settled in the pit of his stomach when he thought about how he’d lost control.
Fear had him faltering, but Azrael’s sudden moan and keening sound drew his eyes back to the arching boy.
Azrael’s slender hands jerked faster and faster at his own cock, until he was bucking and crying out, until he was shooting ropes of come up his stomach. One shot reached a brown nipple, and Real leaned over to take a taste.
He slipped out of Azrael.
It was time to go.
He stiff-armed, but Azrael anticipated the move and wrapped both arms and legs around him.
Real sank down.
He would stay.
But only for a moment.
Cold as ice.
Azrael lay watching Real, who had woken up moments ago and rolled away from him.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Real reached for his discarded shirt and pulled it over his head.
Azrael frowned. Were they going to talk about this? About them? Or was Real going to pretend that nothing had happened?
He scooted from beneath the sheet and, uncaring that he was naked, he walked on his knees up behind Real. He slipped his hands over the man’s shoulders and down to caress Real’s chest.
Nuzzling into the hair at his nape, Azrael whispered softly, “Come back to bed.”
Real stiffened. Every muscle went rigid. With his shoulders tight, the warrior shrugged away from him, pulled on his shirt, and grabbed his jeans and briefs from the floor.
Azrael sank back on his heels to the bed and suddenly felt naked like never before. He yanked the sheet over his lap and glared at Real.
It didn’t do a bit of good because Real was avoiding his gaze like he had the plague.
Real stepped into his briefs, and Azrael had a moment to appreciate the man’s frame, and then Real stepped into jeans and buttoned them. Stopping at the chair near the door, Real sat and put on his socks and boots.
Azrael was tempted to shoot up from the bed, but he was naked and suddenly felt embarrassed.
Fuck that!
