Page 38 of Heart of the Race

“Tell me if we need a condom.”

“Uhm, no.” He shook his head, and it was adorable. “I don’t have sex without one. I—never have, Bri, I swear.”

“Me neither,” I said, pointing toward my nightstand. “Get in there and grab my lube and I’ll tell you how to make me ready.”

His brows furrowed above his long, straight nose. “You? Won’t I be the one taking your cock up my ass?”

Just the visual flooded me with heat, blood pooling in my groin. “No.” I swallowed hard. “If you want, down the road, we can… I can… but I like to bottom, and I want you inside me pretty much more than I want air right now.”

His eyes narrowed. “I was hoping, but I didn’t want to assume. I never want to be a selfish prick, okay?”

I laughed softly. “No, we wouldn’t want that. Get the lube.”

He moved, and I took that opportunity to yank and tug my clothes off as fast as I could, needing to be naked. When I looked up, I nearly swallowed my tongue. Varro was pulling his cashmere crewneck sweater up over his head, and the number of marks on the man’s chest and abdomen stunned me: some deep gouges, crisscrossed thin ones, and still others thick and raised and puffy.

“Ugly, huh?” he said, straightening to his full height so I could look my fill.

His gorgeous olive skin was highlighted by the scars. Each was noticeable, each could be traced and licked and— “No,” I said sincerely, sliding closer across the top of my comforter. “You’re beautiful, you know that. Now let me see the rest of you.”

He was fast, out of his jeans and socks in seconds, standing in front of me with smoldering eyes. I had not seen Varro naked in years, but his cock had been a constant in many a dream. It was huge, long and thick and cut, with a wide vein running along the side.

“Please,” I begged.

He moved to the foot of the bed and took hold of my legs. I shuddered at the feel of his hard, callused hands on the backs of my thighs. “Wait,” he groused suddenly, glaring at me. “That was sarcasm, wasn’t it?”

“What?” I gasped as he ran his hands up to my ankles.

“I actually have been a selfish prick. You were being funny.”

It took a second for my head to clear. “Ohmygod, can you focus?”

He started laughing, and then I was, and it was nice. It was a relief, and I was good and happy until he bent forward at the same time he put my ankles on each shoulder. Once he stilled, I heard him open the cap on the lube.

“Varro,” I groaned as he slid his finger around the outside of my hole.

“You’re so pretty, Brian—your skin and your body—I’m sorry I never told you before.”

“Now is perfect,” I panted.

“Does that feel good?” he asked, the look in his eyes pure evil.

“Yes.”

“I want that,” he said as he rubbed in circles before adding a second finger. “I want that sound in your voice.”

“What—” I gasped. “—sound?”

“Like you’re gonna die if you don’t have me,” he answered, his own voice deep and low.

I bowed up off the bed, reaching, grasping for some part of him, whatever I could reach.

He dipped his fingers inside of me at the same time he captured my hard, throbbing cock in his fist, milking it as precum slowly leaked from the slit.

“Varro!”

“You’re gonna be ready for me,” he growled, and the sound, primitive and possessive, chilled and then warmed me, the intervals seconds apart.

“I’m ready now!” I swore.