Page 55 of Spotlight Hearts

“You’re so fucking responsive,” I whisper. “Love the way you shiver when I touch you here—” I drag my fingertips along his lower back, right above the waistband of his jeans. “And here—” I slide one hand up to cup the back of his neck, thumb stroking the vine tattoo.

He makes a quiet, desperate sound and pulls me closer, kissing me harder. His tongue slides against mine, hungry now. I groan into it, pressing my hips forward so he can feel how hard I already am for him

His hands slide down my chest, over my shirt, then lower—fingers brushing the chain tattoo low on my stomach. He hesitates. I catch his wrist gently, guide his hand lower until his palm presses against the bulge in my pants.

“Feel that?” I murmur against his mouth. “That’s what you do to me. Every time you look at me. Every time you touch me. Even when you’re pretending you don’t want this.”

He exhales shakily, fingers curling around me through the fabric. I rock into his hand once, then kiss him again, deeper, filthier.

We’re both breathing hard. My hands slide under his shirt, pushing it up. He lifts his arms so I can pull it off. I toss it aside and immediately drop my mouth to his chest—kissing, licking, sucking lightly at one nipple until he gasps and arches into me.

“Luca—”

The way he says my name—gaspy, wrecked, like he’s already halfway gone—makes my cock throb harder against his palm.

I pull back just enough to look at him. His chest is heaving, nipples tight and flushed from my mouth, skin glowing with a light sheen of sweat. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, lips swollen and red. He looks fucking edible.

I smile against his skin, voice low and teasing.

“Yeah, baby? You like my mouth on you?”

He nods, fingers tightening in my hair. I reward him by sucking harder on his nipple, tongue flicking, teeth grazing just enough to make him whimper.

My hands slide down his sides, thumbs hooking into the waistband of his jeans and running to the front of his pants. I pop the button, drag the zipper down slowly. His cock springs free—hard, flushed dark, already leaking at the tip. The sight makes my mouth water.

I don’t drop to my knees.

Instead, I stand, pulling him toward me until our bodies pressed flush. His jeans pool around his ankles, and I nudge him backward until he sits on the massive bed behind him. I straddle his legs, crowding him, hips rolling forward so my clothed cock drags against his bare one—hot, heavy friction that makes us both groan.

“Fuck, feel that?” I murmur against his mouth. “That’s how bad I want you.”

I lean back enough to free myself from my jeans. He’s slightly thicker than me, but we are about the same length. My precum paints his abs as I shift, and I’m almost positive I’m going to blow my load before he even touches me. When he reaches between us and wraps his fingers around me, a low groan falls from my lips.

I lean forward and kiss him hard and deep.

His hand feels perfect—warm, firm, a little hesitant at first, then surer as he strokes me. I rock into his fist, kissing him messily, tongue sliding against his, while my hips grind down.

But I need more control.

I catch his wrist gently but firmly, pulling his hand away from me.

“Not yet,” I whisper against his lips, voice rough. “Let me take care of you first.”

He makes a soft, frustrated sound, but his eyes are dark with want. I love that look on him.

I wrap my hand around both of us—my cock and his—stroking us together in one slow, tight pull. The slide is slick from our precum, hot velvet against hot velvet. Kai’s head falls back with a gasp, hips bucking up into my fist.

“Fuck—Luca⁠—”

“That’s it,” I murmur, kissing down his throat, teeth grazing the vine tattoo. “Feel how good we are together?”

I stroke faster—twisting my wrist on the upstroke, thumb swiping over both heads on every pass, spreading the mess between us. Our cocks glide together perfectly, the friction driving me insane. Kai is shaking underneath me, hands clutching at my shoulders, nails digging in.

I lean back just enough to watch—his flushed cock sliding against mine, my hand working us both, the way his abs tense every time I squeeze. It’s filthy. Perfect.

“You look so fucking good like this,” I tell him, voice low and teasing. “All spread out for me. Letting me touch you. Letting me make you feel good.”

He moans—loud and broken—and his hips jerk harder. I tighten my grip, stroking faster, leaning down to suck a mark into the side of his neck.