Page 99 of Rule 2: Never Join a Christmas Dating Show
Sebastian’s eyes soften, as if I’ve said something adorable, and he continues to slide down my shaft. I hold onto his hands, because I want to be holding him all the time, and maybe it will help him feel better if he can squeeze them or something.
And then Sebastian reaches the end. He’s closer to me, and we grin at each other.
“I’m inside you,” I whisper.
He presses his lips together and nods his head. His eyes shimmer, as if he’s feeling all the same feelings I’m feeling, all the same joy, all the same jumps and spins and pirouettes of his heart, as if some figure skater has grabbed hold of it.
Sebastian begins to move. He slides up and down, squeezing my shaft so all I feel is hot warm heat and all I see is him.
His wide blue eyes.
His glistening cock.
His slender, firm figure.
His pale pink, pebbled nipples.
His blond hair that moves with his body, reminding me this is truly happening. Sebastian is here, in my apartment, in my room, in my bed, and I am inside him.
He moves up and down. Up and down. Up and down.
He moves at the speed of the thud of my heart.
Sweat shines from Sebastian’s chest, and his body glows above me. His eyes and hands don’t leave mine. Not for a second. Not to fling up his neck. Not to close his eyes and concentrate on the sensations. Not to throw his arms toward the sky so he can quicken his pace, cowboy style.
And I think he has the same feelings I have. Because if I can close my eyes, I’ll no longer see him. And if I remove my hands from his, I’ll feel him in one less place, and I can’t let that happen.
Because we don’t have forever.
Years and decades don’t stretch before us. Our time is finite.
And so I don’t let go, and I keep my eyes on him, until he shakes, and I shake, and he paints my chest with white. With him.
For a moment, we simply stare at each other, our breath filling the air. I want to tell him wow and that was incredible and compliment him a hundred times, a thousand, a million.
But Troy is on the other side of the wall, and when I look into Sebastian’s eyes, I realize that somehow, everything has been said already. My cock deflates, spent from Sebastian, and finally Sebastian lets go of me. I want to tell him to stay, but he is already halfway across the room. He grabs some tissues and cleans my stomach, his movements light and rapid as if he was hardly there.
I capture his hand in mine when he is finished, and I pull him closer for a kiss. He lies on my stomach, still hot, still sticky. One kiss turns into many, our bodies melded together by his essence. Finally, I see his eyes fall, his heart even with my own.
“Bedtime?” I whisper.
He squeezes his eyes, then nods.
We brush our teeth, scurrying over the floor on our tiptoes, and prepare for bed. We shower.
Tomorrow, we will go to Ashcove.
Finally, we collapse into each other’s arms, our breath now minty-fresh, and we kiss some more, our lips and tongues still active, trying to remember each other as if to prepare for the time when we’ll disappear, when Sebastian will return to the swaying palm trees and the cameras, and I will return to the cold ice and whatever pretend future I do forSeeking Mr. Right.
Sebastian wraps his arms around my neck, his lips still moving in the dark, quiet room until eventually sleep overtakes us.
We wake up at some time of the night, reminding each other that we are still beside each other, clutching our bodies, smoothing our hands over our faces, until I laugh softly and turn on the light.
The golden light swathes Sebastian in an angelic glow. His hair is tousled, his cheeks reddened from the heat of our bodies and the scratch of my stubble.
“We could...” he whispers.
“Do it again?” I whisper back.
