Page 34 of Oz
He shoots me a dark look. “I jumped and broke his nose with my elbow.”
I’m howling with laughter now and holding my sides. “Oh my God,Ishould teachyou.”
He watches me, grinning ruefully. “It’s not funny. I had to go and take my test in St Austell because the examiners refused to have me.”
I laugh for ages while he grins at me. Finally, I sober and I think a lot of that is to do with the soft way he’s looking at me. No one has ever looked at me like this. Soft and brimming over with humour and warmth. For a long second, we stare at each other, the laughter dying and heat replacing it.
I wipe my eyes and straighten and for a second disappointment flits across his face before he schools it.
“Okay, let’s show you the controls.”
He painstakingly shows me the foot controls, explaining everything very clearly and banging on about mirrors and blind spots while I stare at the side of his face and sniff his aftershave.
“Oz, are you listening?”
I jerk and look at him to find him examining me with a quizzical expression on his face.
“Sorry,” I say.
He smiles. “It is pretty boring, but it’s got to be done. Here, this is the gearbox. Push your foot down on the clutch and feel the stick moving through the gears.”
I hesitate and he grabs my hand, putting his own over the top of it. He counts out the gears but my whole attention is on his hand. The calloused palm and long, almost artistic-looking fingers spread over mine. I look at the spray of freckles on the back of his hand like it’s hypnotizing me, and all I can think about is standing at that window fresh from coming and letting him see all of me in the moonlight.
I suddenly become aware that he’s stopped talking and the resulting silence is heavy. I can almost feel it on the air.
“Oz,” he says hoarsely.
I look up and I’m done for. He’s staring at me, his pupils big and dark and his expression wrecked, and without another word we fly at each other. Teeth clash and lips bang together in our rush, but then we’re really kissing. Kissing as if we’ve been doing it together all our lives. Our tongues meet and lips suck and cling and we twist together as if synchronised, all our movements designed to get closer. He eats at my mouth, giving choked groans, and I can hear my panting breaths loud in the silence. One of us moans and he raises his head.
“Oh my God,” he whispers, his mouth shining. His lips are gorgeous. Thin on the top and lush and pouty on the bottom. I reach up and send my tongue languorously over that full curve and he moans deep inside his throat.
“Yes,” he gasps and takes my mouth again.
This time it isn’t enough and I lunge at him. I need pressure and weight. Without taking my mouth away I reach and unclip my belt. The sound attracts his attention and he pulls away, looking blearily at me, his eyes half-mast and his lips spit-slick.
“Oz,” he says and I come up onto my knees and scramble across the handbrake, landing in his lap and quickly straddling him. “Oh fuck, yes,” he calls out. His big hands seize my hips and he pulls me further into him.
We both groan as our cocks meet hard and ready, and I start to writhe on him. All I can see is the sun beating a red haze behind my eyelids. Sweat runs down my back and I feel almost crazed with the need for more. More kissing, more touching.
“Fuck, I need more,” I gasp, pulling away from his mouth as he follows mine with his own almost drunkenly.
“Come back,” he whispers and, grabbing my arse cheeks, he pulls me forward so I rest all along his chest. I cant my hips and start a slow hard grind, crying out as I feel the denim of his jeans rubbing against my cock behind its layer of fabric.
“Yes, Silas. Yes,” I groan and push my hands into his hair, feeling the dark strands slip through my fingers like silk. I throw my head back and gasp as he nips and suckles at the tendon, sending fire and sparks through my blood.
“Don’t stop,” I mutter, pulling his face harder into my neck. “Right there. Oh God.”
“Yes,” he groans and I feel his fingers at the zipper of my jeans. “I need you now,” he says fiercely.
“Yes.” I lean up on my knees and start to unbutton his jeans as I sway faintly from the movement of the car.
I just have time to realise that the car shouldn’t be moving when there’s a bang and we come to a stop.
“What thefuck?” I breathe.
Silas looks around dazedly. “Erm, I think you took the hand brake off when you crawled across,” he says slowly. “We’re in the Buddleia bush at the moment.”
For a long second, we stare at each other. Expressions pass too quickly over his face for me to analyse, but I see heated longing and warmth before he shutters them and then all I can see is caution.
