Page 46 of Confession
“Some people look down on mixed Greek and Italian heritage, you know.”
“Yes, there are snobs at every level.”
“You know, you have a lot more of a mouth on you than was once apparent.”
“I think you like it,” Quinn says distractedly as I push his shorts down. He steps out of them.
“I think I do. Get on the bed.” I smack his ass.
“What’s going on? You prepared this.”
“It’s just a quilt.” I nudge him forward as I strip off my speedo. It’s not just a quilt. It’s also oil and some candles.
I manage to get him onto the bed. Then, not trusting him to stay, I hook my legs around his torso while I lean over to the bedside table and light the candles.
“You’re being so weird,” he says, but his hand smooths its way up my side.
“Yeah, well.”
I’m actually a bit embarrassed because I’ve never done anything like this before, but I power through it. I want to do this.
I turn off the lamp, leaving us with only the candlelight and the day fading outside the floor-to-ceiling windows.
“Lie down,” I tell him as I sit up.
“What are you doing?” He’s so damn wary.
“You’ll figure it out.”
As he settles back, I straddle his hips and grab the oil. I squirt a little on his stomach. His muscles contract.
“Cold?” I ask.
“I just wasn’t ready for it.”
I start smoothing the oil over his skin. Like me, he’s already a little bit aroused, but I enjoy watching his cock get harder as I slick the oil all over him. He grunts when I start massaging him.
I knead the dense muscle of his pectorals. My cock bumps against his as I work.
His eyes are still wary. He’s tense. Something about this is hard for him. I want to ask, but I don’t think I’d get a real answer.
I start massaging his shoulder around the fresh bullet scar. I frown when the muscles spasm.
“Does this still hurt?” I ask.
“It’s a work in progress, but it’s fine.”
When I massage his throat, he relaxes. I work on his chest again. I’m doing this partly for him because I want him to relax and let me take care of him, but I also enjoy the chance to so methodically touch and look at his body. He really is beautiful.
But he’s been hurt a lot. Fights. Abuse.
I work on the muscle of his abdomen. He flinches as I find tight spots.
“Jesus,” he grunts.
“Just breathe.”
“What did you want to discuss?” he asks me. “You and Sasha were talking.”
