Page 148 of Twisted Trails
“Christ, Luc?—”
“It slipped!” He insists, staring at the mess on his palm like I’m the unreasonable one. “My sheets are going to drown.”
I shake my head, trying not to laugh. “That’s not how drowning works.”
“Tell that to my mattress.” He tries to push in the dildo again, then scowls when the toy shoots right back out with a loud pop. “Putain! Even silicone rejects me.”
I snort, stroking him slowly while he glares at the ceiling. “Or maybe, you’re just impatient.”
“Impatient? How dare you. This is tragic.”
“Mm. Tragic, sure.”
He groans under his breath, frustrated, and I feel the tremble roll through him, but I don’t let up. I just keep stroking him and feel every hitch in his breath and twitch of his thighs as he starts pushing the toy in again. When he stops moving, I stop, too, making him huff.
“Why’d you stop?”
“I stop when you stop.”
He tries again, breath catching, and I match him, stroking him in rhythm with each push. It turns into this slow game between us, one I wasn’t planning but can’t look away from.
It’sso fucking hot, watching him flushed and panting, cock leaking, every muscle in his body tight with effort, pleasure, anticipation. He groans, pushes deeper, and I know I shouldn’t tease him right now, but fuck, Iwantto play a little, and he’sstarting to like it.
I feel the shift in him and the way his moans change, his body chasing it now. He’s close, right on the edge.
So I lift my hand off him and let it fall back to the sheets.
“What now?” he whines.
“Making you finish would bemorethan helping.”
“I don’t want to do this alone,” he mutters, lets the toy slip out, and shifts to face me. His cheeks are flushed, his lips parted, and the way he looks at me.
Fuck.
“Why can’t you put a dildo in my damn ass?” He pouts, making me smile. “Merde, why are you smiling?”
“Because you’re hot as fuck,” I say, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
His cheeks get even redder. “But you said no.”
“I was fucking with you, Luc.” I push some stray hair from his eyes. “That’s our thing.”
“That’s not nice.”
“But you’re so cute when you get frustrated.”
“Fuck you.”
“Ask me again,” I command, brushing the backs of my fingers over his pink cheek. “Properly.”
“Will you say yes, then?”
“Possibly.”
He swallows. “Okay, can you help me put it in?”
“No.”
