Page 25 of My Grumpy Sweetheart
There was soft music coming from our room, a calming melody with rain, and chirping birds in the background. Not what I expected Bailey to listen to, but whatever.
I opened the door as quietly as I could, not wanting to interrupt whatever he was doing. Which turned out to be yoga. In sweatpants. Freeballing.
Holy fuck!
His ass was on full display, the pants stretching tight over his cheeks, showing off every dip, every curve. Hell, even his balls were on full display, two tight orbs nestled close against his slim body. He’d lost the shirt, so there was an endless amount of flushed, smooth skin right in front of me, the sheen of sweat glistening in the afternoon sun.
My mouth was dry and watering at the same time.
The tension in his muscles was exquisite, the light tremble in his body as he slowly twisted it from one pose into another. His hair was sticking to his forehead, the strands curling up in his neck.
My cock twitched in my jeans, definitely interested in the way the sweatpants outlined Bailey’s ass, pulling tight in his crack, making his round cheeks look extra bubbly.
Oh damn. I wanted to get my hands on him. Wanted to pick him up just like he was, carry him to the bed, throw him on the mattress, and have my way with him.
What had he said in the pie baking class? He liked to be filled? Well, I liked to do the filling. I just wasn’t sure if he’d be able to handle the way I liked to do it.
“You can take a picture if you want to keep staring at my ass” — I heard Bailey’s voice, slightly out of breath with a teasing lilt to it — “because I definitely can’t stay in this pose much longer.”
“What if I don’t just want to stare?” I asked, biting my lip because it was all I could do to not walk over to him and just grab his ass. “What if I want to touch?”
There was a dull thump and then Bailey was lying sprawled out on the floor.
“Meanie,” he chastised me, shaking his index finger in my direction. “You made me fall.”
“I didn’t even touch you!”
“You made me fall — and now you’re not even helping me up. That’s not very gentleman-like.”
I snorted. “I thought I was an axe murderer.”
“Who says you can’t be both?”
Yeah… who said that? The murderer part probably implied it, but… I still walked over to Bailey and hoisted him back up to his feet by grabbing his hips, my fingers digging into the soft, fleshy parts, feeling his hot skin beneath my palms. Feeling the way he shivered as I dug my fingers a little deeper, holding him tight even though he’d already found his balance, and I could let him go.
I just… didn’t want to.
Bright blue eyes were staring right into mine, pupils dilating farther and farther with every second that ticked by. His labored breathing got even more ragged, coming in puffs that brushed against my chest, he was that short.
“Da…” he started saying my name, but he didn’t get to stay more because one moment I was staring at his delectable mouth, his pink, plush lips, and the next I was claiming said mouth, pressing my lips against his, my tongue immediately licking at the seam of his lips, demanding entry. He was quick to give in to my demands, a sigh escaping him as his tongue met mine, flicking against it, inviting me to play.
I groaned, gripping him even tighter, pulling him against me. His cock brushed against my thigh, his sweatpants doing nothing to hide his rapidly growing erection. A tingling shiver ran down my spine, and I shifted my grip, his delectable ass fitting perfectly into my palms, one cheek per hand. I lifted him up, and Bailey immediately wrapped his legs around my waist, locking his feet behind my back, plastering himself to my front, his arms wrapping around my neck.
I groaned as he humped me, his erection rubbing against mine, making it twitch almost painfully against the zipper of my jeans.
I didn’t know where this was coming from, how I’d gone from being confused and annoyed by him to wanting him with every fiber of my being, but I found I didn’t care. Not when he was biting my lip, then licking away the ache; not when his hands were gently scratching the back of my neck, making shivers wreck through my whole body. Not when everything about this felt so perfect and right.
Bailey moaned, a sweet, desperate sound against my lips, and he humped me again, his cock twitching against me.
“Bed,” he demanded, and while I liked to be the one to call the shots in the bedroom, I internally commended him for his great idea.
I wanted to throw him on the mattress just to see him bounce there, to see him laid out on the giant bed for me, but at the same time, I didn’t want to let go. I didn’t want this moment to end, and I was a little afraid that whatever spell was there between us would break the second we weren’t touching. So I gently lowered Bailey to the mattress, crawling over him and nudging his legs apart so I could place a thigh there, pressing right against his cock and balls. The pressure made him moan and arch his back, his cock twitching in his pants, and a second later, there was a small wet spot darkening the gray fabric.
My own erection ached, demanding attention. But for now, all my focus was on Bailey and his slender hands that were currently trying to get my flannel off my shoulders.
Chuckling, I ripped my mouth away from his and sat up so I could get rid of the offending fabric myself, pulling my t-shirt off at the same time.
Bailey hummed happily, his hands exploring my belly and chest, fingers threading in my chest hair, lightly tugging at it.
