Page 50 of Shiver
“Told you I was running late,” he says and turns on his heel, walking away. I catch up easily and can’t stop myself from resting my hand on the small of his back. When that’s not enough, I run my hand up his spine to cup the back of his neck possessively.
Though I don’t let the claiming word ring in my head, I know exactly what this says to everyone.
He’s fucking mine!
Egon says nothing as we head down the road. I don’t release him, unable to convince myself that he doesn’t need my touch right now. He hasn’t asked for the questions that would follow. I shouldn’t have stopped there.
But he’s still smiling, so I don’t let him go. Not until we’re at my door and I need to fish out my key. When we’re inside, I haul him to me as I slam the door. My mouth covers his, my entire body pushing against him with such force, I slam him against the door.
He grunts, his hands on me strong and hard, his fingers digging into me as I make sure he understands whose mouth this is. Whose body this is. Who he fucking belongs to. There’s only one person allowed to touch him and that’s me.
When I think he finally understands, I pry my mouth from his. His eyes are half closed, but I can still see that there’s only the slightest gray showing around his wide pupils. He groans, blinks lazily, and I chuckle.
“Like that?” I ask.
“Yes,” he hums, leaning his head against mine.
I give him this moment of closeness. The hard, claiming touch eventually turning soft as I relax some of the force I’m holding him with.
“Who do you belong to, Egon?” I can’t stop myself from asking.
His grin is wide. He blinks, his eyes focusing on me when he answers. “You. Only you, Rakesh.”
“Good,” I grunt. “Don’t let anyone else touch you.”
I push off him as he chuckles. “You know, I wasn’t inviting her to.”
The sound I make is mostly animal. Not an intelligent human. It’s all gruff and possessive. “Hungry?” I ask.
“Always,” is the answer I receive.
“What do you want tonight?”
Egon sighs, dropping his bag by the door and shoving his shoes off his feet. “I don’t know. Whatever you want is good with me.”
More and more, I realize he doesn’t want to answer those questions. He’d rather me make his decision for him. Most of the time, I allow it to happen unless we’re talking about something serious or are in bed.
“Chinese,” I tell him.
He nods, watching me as I change from the suit I was wearing into sleep pants and a long-sleeved shirt. When I look at him, he’s watching me with heated eyes, his cock inflating. “Sit,” I tell him, gesturing to the couch.
Without question, he does. Dropping onto the cushions as I order. It’s dinner time so our delivery isn’t for forty-five minutes. I take a seat next to him and flick on the television. We should be studying. But I’m too irritated to do so.
A minute passes before Egon leans closer. That’s his way of saying he wants more contact. I shift on the couch and pat my legs, prompting him to climb between them and lay on my chest. His hand rests on my thigh, dangerously close to my cock that’s been chubbed up for hours thinking about him being here.
We’re not really watching TV. I’m vaguely staring in its direction when Egon says, “Caulder was signed with an agent today.”
I’m not sure who Caulder is, so I nod. “That’s cool.”
He nods, too. “Rigo Veyenna. Know who he is?”
“Yes. He’s got some prestigious clients these days,” I answer, realizing he’s mentioned this because an ad for Pride Sports had just been on TV.
Another minute goes by before he says, “Caulder was excited until the first thing someone asked him is whether Rigo is the one who signed the gay football player.”
Since I’m not sure where this is going, I don’t say anything.
“It made me think. We don’t sit here and say, hey Deryke Schneider is the straight goalie for Montreal. We just say he’s the goalie. Why should we be saying, hey Ryan is the gay guard for Detroit?”
