Page 77 of Brushed and Buried
“Watch him,” I say.
They do.
I take Adrian’s cock in my hand and drag my tongue slowly along the shaft, tasting the salt and heatof him. He trembles beneath me, breathing stuttered, all sensations tuned to my mouth.
I do not stop. I lick to the base and then take the thick head into my mouth. My other hand stays buried inside him, slick and relentless, and I pump his length a few times, lips wrapped around the head and fingers pressing into his hole.
“Vince!” He breaks.
Adrian comes with a choked cry that rips through the room. His hips jerk, spine arches, and cock spews thick, hot rope after rope of cum across the rug as his thighs shake. He moans loudly, wrecked and breathless, seized by the moment where nothing else exists but the feel of me inside him.
When he collapses, twitching and panting, ruined and beautiful in equal measure, he is exactly where I want him.
Trevor sucks in a breath. George curses. Lance looks at us like he’s forgotten how to blink.
When I look up with Adrian’s taste still on my tongue, the boys are staring like they are starving, like I have handed them permission to feast.
27
Adrian
Vince settles over me slowly, every inch of him bare, careful in a way that makes my whole body ache with anticipation. His weight presses me into the couch, his body fitting against mine as if he has been shaped to match every curve I carry. For a moment, he does not move, push, or grind. He leans down, so close that his forehead brushes mine, and whispers the smallest word.
“Hi.”
It slips out of him like he is a teenager again, nervous and undone by me. My throat tightens, and I cannot help smiling even as my eyes burn.
“Hi,” I whisper back.
The sound cracks something open between us. His mouth hovers above mine, our breaths mingling, and then his lips press down softly, reverent, as if he has been waiting a lifetime to ask permission. I kiss him back, my hands dragging up his arms,across his shoulders, and down his spine. I want to feel all of him. I want to keep him.
I thread my fingers through his hair, feeling the warmth of his scalp and the tremor in his body as he holds himself back. His eyes search mine, asking without words, and I nod, shivering at the intensity between us.
When he finally pushes his long, girthy cock inside me, the world stops. I grip him, shuddering as he fills me, not just my body but the parts of me I’ve kept hidden. A gasp tears free before I can stop it. His eyes stay locked on mine, searching and making sure. His breath stutters as if he is just as undone and just as desperate.
“Baby…you feel unreal,” he gasps between breaths. He sinks in fully, and we stay there, breathing each other in as if the universe has been holding this moment for us.
I cup his face, thumb brushing sweat from his temple. Tears slip free from my eye before I can stop them. “You’re finally here.”
His gaze flickers down my body and back to my face. There is fire in it, yes, but something steadier, more terrifying in its depth. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
The first thrust is slow, measured, almost tender. The second breaks me open. By the third, we are no longer careful. The rhythm builds, harder and deeper, the wet slap of skin echoing around us as I gasp his name over and over. Every stroke drivesthrough me like a promise, pulling ragged sounds from my throat I did not know I could make.
His grip tightens on my hips, forcing me to take him deeper. Pleasure and surrender blur until I cannot tell where he ends and I begin. The thrusts grow stronger, each one a release of the years he has been denied, a reclaiming of every second apart. This is only the first of countless shared moments. But his movements are raw and unrelenting, revealing how long he has hungered for this. How desperately he has needed me beneath him, burning and opening.
We stay like this, connected and exposed. Our eyes close only for the briefest of seconds before snapping open again, refusing to lose sight of each other. Every stroke, gasp, and shuddered breath is a vow. I feel him tremble above me and realize he is almost there. My own release builds at the same time, a deep, irresistible pull starting low in my stomach and climbing with each thrust.
He leans down and kisses me, hard and almost frantic, while his hips drive forward again. The friction tips me over the edge.
“Are you close?” he asks, voice low and rough, thick with heat.
“Yes,” I gasp, unable to form anything else.
“Fuck, you’re so beautiful like this,” he groans, hips snapping with precision. “I adore you, every part of you. I’m going to make you come again and again, just so I can watch you lose yourself.”
Every word sends sparks down my spine. My body shudders at the rhythm of his hands, at the way he knows exactly how to bring me undone.
“Come for me, Adrian. Fuck, now,” he commands, voice thick and possessive.
