Page 45 of The Dramatic Life of Jonah Penrose
“I wanted to kiss you.” His fingers found their way to his collarbone. “All along here.” This thumb caressed the side of his neck. “And here.”
Jonah swallowed. “And then?”
Dexter’s voice went low in his throat. “I want to kiss every inch of you. Run my tongue along your skin.” He dropped his hand to Jonah’s leg and ghosted his touch to his inner thigh. “Feel how soft you are here.”
Jonah shifted, the pajama shorts he wore suddenly too hot and horrendously uncomfortable as Dexter bit down on his bottom lip, his face close, agonizingly close. “I’ve wanted to feel you grow hard for me, then taste you by taking you into my mouth while looking at your pretty face and hearing you moan while gripping your thighs.” Dexter placed his hand on Jonah’s hip and gently urged him closer, their legs intertwined now, breaths tickling into each other’s skin.
Jonah let out a quiet moan, his eyes on Dexter’s lips, the thought of him taking Jonah’s length into his mouth driving him wild. Dexter’s touch didn’t leave Jonah’s skin as he worked his fingers down his thigh again, then hooked Jonah’s leg over his waist. Jonah could feel how hard Dexter was, their bodies pressed together, and he wanted him just as bad, his own erection straining from inside his pants, the heat between them intoxicating.
“Please,” Jonah murmured, though what he was asking for he couldn’t say. He would take anything.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Dexter said, the cadence of his voice changing to that of concern. Jonah knew Dexter wanted to kiss him, he could practically feel his lips on his, but he could also feel the dull ache in the side of his face, and he tilted his head to the side.
“You won’t,” he said, moving from Dexter to lie flat on his back, resting his head on the pillow, exposing his neck, showing him where he could touch without repercussions. “I want you.”
“Are you sure?”
Jonah turned his head back to look at him. “I am. Are you?”
Dexter answered in movement. He straddled Jonah with ease, the rolesreversed, and leaned down to press his lips against the fluttering pulse point in his neck. “Fuck, yes.”
Jonah arched his back as Dexter continued to work his lips against his skin, his hands dipping beneath the hem of his shirt before bringing it up over Jonah’s head. Dexter wasted no time in running his tongue along Jonah’s collarbone, his teeth just grazing the skin, his left hand cupping the side of Jonah’s neck. Jonah’s fingers buried themselves into Dexter’s blond hair, small noises escaping his mouth as the other man took his time in moving painstakingly slowly down his body. The attention he gave to Jonah’s skin seemed almost sinful, his tongue and lips tingling down his chest to his navel. Dexter seemed intent on killing him by acting as if time didn’t exist, the moments stretching on for eternity, and Jonah knew they were in no race, but he was needy, his body ready and wanting.
“Dex,” he whimpered, and he allowed himself to feel embarrassed at just how desperate the name sounded. “Please.”
Dexter looked up at him, hazel eyes dilated, as if high on Jonah, and, fuck, he looked gorgeous. He half expected some cocky reply, a question about what exactly Jonah was begging for, but Dexter didn’t say a word. No, instead he sat up and ran his fingers along the waistband of Jonah’s pajama shorts, a smug grin on his face as if he knew something Jonah didn’t.
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do this?” Without the words to speak, Jonah shook his head in response and Dexter bit down on the side of his bottom lip as he looked at him. “Tell me something about you I don’t know.”
“Dexter,” Jonah moaned, bucking his hips up impatiently. “Why ask me that now?”
Dexter trailed his finger down the center of Jonah’s chest. “Tell me something I don’t know about you. Something I can’t find out online. Go on.”
Jonah placed his hand over Dexter’s, stilling him, not able to handle his touch if Dexter was in the mood to torment him. “I’m boring. You know everything.”
Dexter raised a very unimpressed eyebrow and pouted his lips. “Well, I can’t possibly have sex with someone boring.”
“I... had an imaginary friend as a kid,” Jonah said, scrambling around in the recesses of his mind for any kind of fact and for some bizarre reason settling on that.
“Yeah? What was their name?”
“Macbeth.”
“As in,theMacbeth?” Dexter nudged Jonah’s pants farther down his hipbones.
“No, just, his name was Macbeth, and whenever I did something bad and my parents would yell at me, I blamed it on him.”
“Naughty Macbeth,” Dexter said with a grin.
“Fuck’s sake, you’re driving me insane.” Jonah sat up, shifting Dexter on his lap, hands on his waist, Dexter’s thighs either side of his.
“It’s what I do,” Dexter said, pushing him back down then shuffling down his body, slipping his fingers beneath Jonah’s waistband to remove his pants.
Jonah shuddered at the cool rush of air caressing his skin, his body so hot, painfully so, and he felt exposed being completely naked in front of Dexter, but he didn’t care, he wanted Dexter to see him; he wanted Dexter to look at him and touch him and do whatever thoughts had crossed his mind when he imagined this moment. And Dexter took him all in, his eyes scanning Jonah’s body, bottom lip working between his teeth before he took off his own top, his hair ruffling, making him look delightfully unkempt. He lowered himself down again and pressed light kisses on the inside of Jonah’s thighs before taking his length into his mouth.
And. Fuck. Jonah’s breath came out ragged. He let Dexter settle between his thighs, his fingers in his hair again, gentle, not urging him to do more, not trying to set a pace; he just wanted to touch him. Dexter moaned around him, the noise insatiable, and Jonah let his head fall back on his pillow as he looked up at the ceiling; if he looked at Dexter with his lips wrapped around him and eyelashes fanned beautifully against his cheeks, he wouldn’t last a minute.
A gap in the bedroom curtains allowed the light from the streetlampsoutside to filter into the room, the warm orange glow shimmering over Dexter’s skin, bathing him in sheets of pure gold. Jonah decided the next time they did this, if there was a next time, and he bloody hoped there would be, then he would light candles beforehand. He wanted to see the light of the fire dance across Dexter’s features, illuminating him like a casque of treasure, glistening, each bead of his sweat a diamond pressed into his skin. Outside, Camden faded into a muted silence and all Jonah could hear were the greedy moans coming from the back of Dexter’s throat and his own small gasps and needy utterances of pleasure.
