Page 29 of Crossroads
“It’s really not that bad,” he says again.
I don’t want to lay any inch of bare skin on the mattress, so I kick my shoes off—leaving my socks on—and lie flat down on the bed next to him. “You’re going to sleep in your clothes?”
“Why?” I turn my head just enough to gaze up at him. “You want me out of my clothes?”
He glares at me, that scowl back in full force. “What did I tell you about that shit?”
“The gay shit?” I ask innocently, but my tone is laced with agitation.
“Yeah. Knock it off. I just meant you won’t be comfortable sleeping in jeans. Don’t you normally sleep naked?”
I can’t help myself. “Aw, you think about me sleeping naked often, don’t you?”
I expected it to push his buttons. What I didn’t expect is for him to use gracefulness comparable to a cheetah to push off the headboard and cover my body with his. He wraps his hand around my throat as he positions himself between my legs, his knees planted on the bed as he hovers above me.
He isn’t hurting me, but there’s some pressure from his hand on my throat as he foams at the mouth and glares down at me. “I don’t.”
A smart man would probably shut up right now. A smart man definitely wouldn’t goad him further and smirk up at him. I am not a smart man right now, apparently, because that’s exactly what I do. “Yeah, you do. Admit it. You can’t stop thinking about me naked. You want to know what it feels like to touch all that naked skin.”
He applies slight pressure to my throat, but it isn’t painful. “Shut. Up.”
“Make. Me.” I don’t know why I say it. Goes along with the whole not being smart thing I guess, but his breath hitches in his throat. His fiery eyes snap to mine, his pupils blown wide, and then they dip down to my mouth.
I can barely breathe. My lungs are trying to force air into them, but it’s a struggle. He just stares at my lips, and I stare back at him, my heart thundering in my chest, his big hand wrapped around my throat as I try to suck in air over and over again.
He has to feel the movement under his palm, but he’s just fixated on my mouth. I want him to kiss me. I want to kiss him. But he’s going to have to make the first move.
I won’t take that risk.
I see the turmoil in his eyes. The fight he’s having with himself right now, and I don’t think he’s going to go through with it until he’s moving. A second later, his mouth slams down on mine with pure hunger sucking what was left of my breath out of my lungs, but I couldn’t give a fuck about breathing right now.
If this is how I die, then this is how I die.
His mouth is strong and sure, but it’s not really a kiss. It’s more a feral attack, one that makes me ache. His hold on my throat loosens but doesn’t disappear, and I gain a little more control. Sucking some breaths into my lungs and then taking more of him.
I kiss him hard, eating at his mouth as he does the same to me. Our tongues tangle in a battle I don’t really care about winning. I just want to feel more of this. He bites my bottom lip, and I hiss before doing the same to him. My hands go into his hair, and I tug the blond strands as I pull him further into me.
I can feel his hard cock against my own, his lower half slotted between my legs as I lie there and allow him to kiss me. Any minute, this could end. It probably will. But I’m a desperate man as I rub my hard groin against his and revel in the moans coming from him.
They bubble up in his throat as he thrusts against me. The pleasure in my balls climbing with each stroke. My tongue strokes over his before I suck on it, hard. He groans, and Iswallow down the sound as I grip his hair harder and roll my hips against him. We don’t say a word.
It’s just hot, horny grunts of passion as we move together, devouring each other’s mouths. It’s too much and not enough, but I’m too far gone to stop it. My balls are pulled up tight to my body, and I feel like I might die if I don’t come soon.
Thankfully, it doesn’t come to that because Jasper’s hips snap forward, dragging his thick, hard denim-covered cock against mine, once, twice and then I’m coming. Flying over the edge as cum spurts into my underwear. I move with him, pushing him over the edge as he cries out into my mouth, his entire body going rigid and then trembling with pleasure he can’t hide.
We’re both panting, my hands in his sweaty hair, his wrapped around my throat, and it seems we’re both too afraid to move. Too afraid to face what just happened.
We lie there, breathing heavily before he pulls back, and I release my hold on his hair. He climbs off me, walking slowly toward his bag, picking it up and going into the bathroom, then closing the door behind him.
I catch my breath, my hand going to my neck, wondering if he left a mark and realizing I hope he did. My fingers drift to my lips as I feel the puffiness there. The remnants of him.
And there’s no denying what just happened.
TWELVE
What the hell just happened?
One minute we were talking . . . well, fighting.
