Page 45 of Best Man
His hands are rough as he pushes up my shirt, sending his palms over my chest and tweaking my nipples. Pleasure sears through me, and I cry out. He looks up with an evil expression.
“You’re sensitive here, aren’t you?” he mutters, rubbing the pad of his thumb over my nipple before he pinches it between his thumb and forefinger. The pain is sweetly sharp and I grunt, grabbing his head and pulling it towards me so I can kiss him. We get lost in this for what feels like a long time. The light is red behind my eyelids, and I tangle my tongue with his as his finger rubs ceaselessly against my nipples. First one then the other.
When he pulls back, my eyesight is blurry and my cock is throbbing almost painfully.
“Where are you going?” I slur as he stands back and weaves slightly. His face is set and intent, his eyes lowered to half-mast and his mouth swollen. His hair is sticking up in a messy tangle, and his shirt is half out of his trousers. It’s hard for a second to believe that this is buttoned-up, in-control Zeb, and it’s a dark thrill.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he says hoarsely. “I need your clothes off.”
“I’m happy with this plan,” I mutter, pulling my shirt up and off and faltering slightly as I forget to unbutton it and get it caught on my head.
“Somehow this is not surprising,” he says, and I can hear the amusement in his voice as his hands help me off with my shirt. When it clears my head, I glare at him. Control is coming back into his face, and I’m not having that, so I kick off my shoes and slowly unzip my trousers, the hiss of the zip loud in the quiet suite. I push my fingers into the gap as he stares with hot eyes at the strip of pubic hair now showing above the fabric. I’m relieved to see that the humour is gone again.
My trousers fall to the ground, and he grunts, looking me over where I stand. His eyes are avid and hot on my chest and the narrow strip of fabric that’s all that stands between me and nakedness.
“Get on the sofa,” he orders.
“Why? What about the bed?”
“The sofa’s closer,” he barks and starts to strip off his own shirt, revealing that wonderful hairy chest of his. His nipples are pale brown discs and his hips narrow. His trousers fall to the floor, leaving him in a pair of navy boxer briefs that do little to hide the bulge of his erection.
I lie back hurriedly on the sofa and cup my cock as I watch him stride towards me. It’s hot and hard in my briefs, and I can feel the spot of wetness growing.
“Hand off your cock,” he mutters, and all I can do is gasp as he lowers himself over me, giving me all of his lovely weight. I can feel the sharp dig of his hipbones, and his chest rubs against my swollen nipples, sending sparks of pleasure through my body.
He slides over me sinuously, his hands gripping the armrest behind my head as he starts to undulate against me, his cock rubbing against mine. I moan and he draws in a sharp breath before lowering his head and taking my mouth again.
He pulls back, and for a long second we stare at each other. Long enough for me to wonder whether he’s going to back away. Instead, he smiles almost tenderly and brushes his fingers down my face, lingering over my cheekbones and the tip of my nose before he rubs them over my lips. I kiss the tips, and he stares, before bending his head and kissing my sternum, tracking kisses in a row until he reaches my nipple. He pulls it into his mouth and suckles it, and I cry out, grabbing his head and forcing it against me. He laves and sucks, and when he pulls away, it’s only so he can do the same to the other one. When he sits back and starts to kiss downwards, I can barely remember my own name.
He nuzzles into the hair around my belly button, darting out his tongue to rim it, and I wriggle protestingly. “Ticklish,” I murmur, and he smiles up at me. His eyes are a startling blue in the light, and for a second I want time to stop so that I can stare at him. Then he begins the descent towards my groin, and I abandon the idea of stopping time. How stupid would that be when I want him to hurry up and get to my cock?
He spreads my legs further with a demanding shove that makes my cock even harder, if that’s possible, and then nuzzles into the space where my leg meets my groin. He inhales deeply and when he looks up his eyes are bleary. “You smell so good here,” he says gruffly, and I can’t help arching my pelvis towards him.
He hovers over my straining cock, his warm breath brushing hot over the sensitive tip. Reaching out one long finger, he tracks over the sensitive skin of my hipbones and down the groove in my pelvis to where my dick is waiting. I shudder as he traces his finger over it, the pressure a taunt when I need a hard touch.
“Touch me, for fuck’s sake,” I groan desperately as he hovers there, watching the damp spot grow on my stripy briefs. “Zeb,” I moan, and something in the desperation seems to snap his control. He removesmy briefs with a sharp tug and throws them over his head before bending and taking my cock down his throat.
“Oh shit,” I shout out far too loudly and then fall back, staring blindly up at the ceiling and panting as I feel the wet, suckling pressure on my dick. It’s pushed halfway down his throat and I feel his lips press against my pubic hair. This immediately makes me struggle up onto my elbows so I can see it. When I do, I groan loudly at the sight of his lips stretched tight and swollen around my cock and those blue, blue eyes staring at me intently.
He sucks hard, his mouth a heated seal round my cock, before letting me slip almost free so he can lick and suckle the sensitive head. He licks at the drops of precome on my cock and gives a pleased grunt that causes my balls to draw up.
“Shit, no,” I say, pulling back and grabbing the base of my dick. “God, that was too close,” I mutter, trying to get my breathing under control. He levers off me in a flurry of movement, and when I look up, he’s standing by the sofa stripping off his underwear. He tosses the fabric somewhere. It could be Outer Mongolia for all I care because I’m staring at his cock. It’s huge, the head angry and red-looking with moisture beading the top. His balls are big and hairy, swinging lower than mine, and my mouth is watering with the desire to suck him.
“Come here,” I say throatily, and he shakes his head, his cheeks ruddy and his eyes laser focused as he gropes for his trousers on the floor. When he comes back up with a tube and a gold packet, I shudder, and he smiles darkly.
He sits on the floor, leaning back against the sofa and chucking the lube next to him. “That sofa is like a torture instrument. Get down here,” he says, fisting his cock and starting to jerk himself lazily as he eyes me.
I get up and stand over him as he runs his hands up my legs. He cocks his head, watching as I shiver when his fingers touch my hips. Obeying the sharp pull of his hands, I lower myself to sit in his lap. We both groan as I settle, and his cock rubs against my hole as if demanding entrance.
“Come here,” he says gruffly, and I lower my lips to his. We both let out a sigh as they touch, gently at first but then harder as we sink intothe kiss. I press down, groaning as my cock rubs against the hair on his stomach and sends bright sparks behind my eyes. We kiss hungrily, and I shudder as his hands leave my hips where they’ve been rubbing circles, and I hear the snap of a bottle opening.
I fold my arms behind his head and kiss him harder, only to pull away as he pulls my cheeks back to expose my hole. For a second I feel cold air and then the touch of wet, slippery fingers as he rubs over my entrance, gently flirting with the wrinkled skin.
He plays there for a second as he takes my mouth again in long, slow kisses before I feel one finger slide in. I tense for a second, and he stays still, watching me carefully, his eyes like neon in the dim light.
“Okay?” he whispers and I nod, easing down on the digit.
“God, yes,” I moan, feeling pleasure race through my passage. “Fuck, that’s good. More.”
