Page 49 of A Voice In Chains
“Okay,” he says before trapping his lip between his teeth while thinking. “Do you like it here?”
My smile says it all. Of course, I do. No one has ever done anything this nice for me before. Zach smiles warmly, too.
“Good.” He nods slowly like he’s letting the moment sink in. “Do you like music?”
A small chuckle.Who doesn’t?
“I take that as a yes,” he replies with a dangerous smile that’s more flirtatious than anything I’ve seen previously. “What type of music? Rock?”
I shake my head.
“No? Not even alternative rock?”
I bite back a smile, then shake my head again.
He shifts to rest his ankle on his knee, the breeze teasing the curls at his ears. “Hip hop?”
I do a so-and-so gesture with my hand. Who doesn’t like Eminem and Tupac? But is it something I listen to on the regular? No.
He clicks his fingers. “I know. You like electronic music?”
I can’t stop my smile when he looks at me like that. This is a side of him I doubt many get to see.
“That’s a yes, isn’t it?”
I lean in close, hand on his thigh, and whisper “yes” against his ear.
A shiver runs through him, and then he grabs hold of my neck, kissing me deep and unhurried, savoring my taste like it’s the last gasp of air he’ll get before he drowns.
The moment ends too soon. He breaks away and smiles another one of his bright ones that rival the sun. “Do you like barbeque ribs?”
I blink at him, dazed by the kiss. Barbeque ribs?
“It’s a deal breaker.” He nudges his nose with mine. “If you say no, there’s no future for us?—”
I cut him off with another kiss, and he reciprocates, his fingers dancing up my chest and into my hair. He pulls me closer, nips my lip, and thrusts his tongue into my mouth with a groan.
“Answer the question, Ark.” He no longer sounds like himself, his voice octaves lower. “Yes or no.”
I nod as he kisses a trail from my lips and down my neck.
“Good,” he whispers. He bites my Adam’s apple and palms my aching, rock-hard cock. “Do you like movies?”
Another frantic nod, my hips chasing his touch. Zach lifts his head to study my face while he strokes me through my jeans.
“Will you tell me about yourself one day?” His touch softens, his eyes dropping to my parted lips. “I’d do anything to hear your voice.”
Another soft nod. I shouldn’t make promises I can’t keep, but I want to. I want to be what my ocean desires.
“What do you want now, baby?” he asks softly, his hand on the outline of my cock, where a wet patch is forming.
He slides off the bench to kneel between my legs, then trails his fingers over the damp fabric. “Do you want me to kiss you here?”
The answer is written all over my face as clear as day. He reads it, then bends to press his lips to my crotch, beside the zipper. Even through my jeans, his hot breath heats my skin, and it takes a herculean effort to stay seated.
He stares into my eyes, kissing the hardness, and then presses his tongue flat against the fabric. I almost combust, my knuckles white on the edge of the bench seat.
Fuck me.
