Page 53 of Forbidden Devotion
The lustin Mitchel’s gaze boiled over into action at Sinclair’s words. He stalked forward, closing the distance between them. Sinclair shifted on his feet, eager to reap whatever he’d provoked.
Mitchel fisted his lapels and raised his brows as if asking, really? Rip this?
Sinclair’s mouth fell open as he nodded, and Mitchel wasted not a moment more. He yanked the jacket open, buttons popping free, and shoved it off his shoulders.
Sinclair was jostled by the movement. His shirt vest went next, and fine silk tore asunder to make room for Mitchel’s fingers on his shirt. The sound of ripping fabric had never been sexier. He was bare from the waist up, nipples pebbling in the cool of the conditioned air.
To feel wanted like this, like Mitchel was desperate for him, needed his skin, was dizzying. His cock firmed in his pants, which were becoming uncomfortably tight.
Warm hands pawed at his rib cage, around his back, and lower, sinking into his waistband. A gasp sprang from Mitchel’s lips. “You’re not wearing underwear.”
“I never do.”
“I’m glad I didn’t know that until now. I’m going to think of that a lot.”
“Good.” Sinclair breathed the word against Mitchel’s throat, leaning into his chest, encouraging every touch, arching into every caress. He tangled his hands in Mitchel’s hair, angling his head for another kiss. Every breath of Mitchel’s scent delighted his senses. Every sweet moan fed his desire.
Sinclair let his hands wander across Mitchel’s broad shoulders, down his arms to his biceps. “You feel so good.”
“So do you.” Mitchel released him and took a moment to stare.
Sinclair arched his brows. “I’m not quite naked yet.”
“I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to rush. I want to savor every second. Every inch of skin.” He ducked in and sucked a pert nipple into his hot mouth.
Sinclair squirmed, arched his back, and bit his lip. “Oh.”
Large, rough hands explored his back, holding him still in an all-encompassing embrace. Sinclair felt small in Mitchel’s arms, small and treasured, his every response taken in, cataloged, and exploited for more.
It had been too long since he’d allowed someone this kind of access. To his body and his heart, which was becoming thoroughly wrapped up in Mitchel Edgehill.
Mitchel, who was sinking to his knees.
Mitchel, who traced a wet line to his navel and dipped his tongue inside.
Mitchel, who was fully clothed while Sinclair was already half naked.
Sinclair shuddered. Nimble fingers flicked the clasps of his pants open. Mitchel slid the fabric down his hips and past his thighs, freeing his cock. It sprang up, eager and needy, already glistening at the slit.
Mitchel licked one long swipe. He took the head into his mouth and pressed forward, inching to the base. Sinclair, watching with wide eyes, struggled to remain on his feet.
He let out a gasp, hands wrapped in Mitchel’s hair. “Oh, god.”
Mitchel swallowed, his throat moving in the most intimate of massages, and Sinclair saw stars. His toes curled in his shoes.
“Do that again,” Sinclair pleaded and was not disappointed.
The sensation became so much he fought not to collapse, feeling unmoored until Mitchel, as if knowing it, grounded him with a firm grip on each hip.
He’d imagined this happening a million different ways, their first time together, but nothing could compare to the real thing, the eager man kneeling for him, mouth stretched wide around his cock.
Mitchel’s hair was soft in his fingers. Sinclair tried to focus on that, or he was going to lose it and spill too soon. Too much, too fast, and it was so, so good. Intensity threatened to overwhelm him. The muscles in his thighs shook. His abs tensed, and his balls drew tight.
“Fuck. Stop, Mitchel, or I’ll come,” whined Sinclair.
Mitchel released him with a wet slurp and sat back on his haunches, admiring his work.
Sinclair was quivering, cock shining with saliva, skin flushing hotly. He stood, breathing heavily, with his slacks around his ankles. He must look thoroughly debauched like this.
