Page 113 of Moonlit Nights & Northern Lights
He stared at the lube. “Piña colada flavour? Really?”
“What’s wrong, too fun for you?”
Without warning, Maxwell’s hands were on my shoulders, propelling me down the corridor with surprising force. My back hit the bedroom door, which swung open under our combined weight. He marched me backward until my legs hit the mattress, pushing me down onto the bed.
I barely had time to bounce on the springy surface before Maxwell was looming over me, his fingers gripping the hem of my tie-dye shirt. In one violent motion, he yanked it up and over my head, tossing it somewhere.
Cool air kissed my bare chest, though the tremor that ran through me had more to do with the hunger prowling behind Maxwell’s dark eyes, his breathing sharp and uneven.
“Take your clothes off, then,” I said.
Maxwell stared at me. “Are you always like this?”
“Did you expect anything different?”
Maxwell stepped back, his gaze fixed on me as his hands moved to the buttons of his white shirt. One by one, he undid them with deliberate slowness, never breaking eye contact. The intensity in his dark eyes made my breath catch as each movement revealed more of his chest—a gradual unveiling that felt almost ceremonial.
His fingers worked methodically down the row of buttons, the fabric parting to reveal the strong column of his throat, then the defined planes of his chest. The shirt fell open completely, exposing the expanse of his torso, lightly covered in hair that I so desperately wanted to touch.
Maxwell shrugged the shirt from his broad shoulders, letting it slide down his arms before dropping it to the floor. His trousers followed, then his underwear, until he stood completely naked before me.
My heart danced with a ferocity that surprised me. Why was I suddenly so nervous? Maxwell was the one who’d never had sex with a man before. So why was I battling against anxious butterflies assaulting my stomach?
But this was Theodore Maxwell.
Maxwell, whose magnificent cock now hung heavy between his thighs.
I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. Dying sunlight streamed through the curtains, drenching his body in a golden, sun-kissed glow that accentuated every perfect inch of him. Broad shoulders, chest just slightly muscled. Taut stomach, powerful thighs. My eyes traced the darktrail of hair that ran from his navel downward, drawing my attention back to his impressive length.
Then he was moving toward me, climbing onto the bed, one hand reaching to remove his glasses.
“Wait,” I said. “Keep them on.”
His brow furrowed.
“You…” I started, my chest feeling tight, my lungs not quite getting enough air. “You look more like yourself with them on.”
Wordlessly, he blanketed me with his weight while supporting himself on one elbow, and the heat of his body pressed against mine sent a lovely shiver through me.
He thrust against me, rubbing our cocks together—an instantly overwhelming friction that pulled a desperate whimper from my throat. I reached down, eager to take us both in hand—
“Let me,” Maxwell murmured into my ear, his breath hot against my skin. He brushed his hand across my chin, then stroked my lips with his thumb. My mouth fell open of its own accord, and he slipped two fingers inside. I sucked eagerly, licking around his digits and mustering as much saliva as I could—easy enough, as the man on top of me already made me drool.
With his massive hand, he wrapped it around both our cocks, the wet slide of his fingers easing the way. The feeling of his enormous dick pressed against mine nearly undid me then and there—the velvet-steel hardness of him scorching against my own.
Then he shifted, and I felt the swollen head of my cock brush against something impossibly soft. Maxwell went rigid above me, his breathing ragged, and I realised what he was doing—positioning himself so the tip of my dick was right at the edge of his foreskin. His hand trembled slightly as he held us together.
“I—” he started, uncertainty flickering across his features. “Is this— I don’t know if—”
“God, yes,” I gasped. “That feels incredible. But onlyif you want to.”
His breath hitched as he tentatively guided the head of my cock inside, the soft skin stretching to accommodate me. Then I was sliding into that warm, wet sheath, my tip completely enveloped by his flesh. The sensation was unlike anything I’d ever experienced—like being wrapped in the most perfect silky heat.
“Fuck,” I panted, my hips jerking involuntarily as he began to stroke us together with growing confidence. The wet, obscene sounds of our skin sliding against each other filled the room.
“You feel beyond amazing,” he whispered.
I could only whimper and thrust as he worked us both.
