Page 39 of Heart of the Race

“Not yet,” he ground out, curling his body forward so that my feet slid over his shoulders to his back.

I lifted, offering, opening myself to him as he bent and touched his tongue to the crown of my weeping shaft.

“You’re gonna make me come!” I cried softly. “I don’t—I can’t… I want to know what it is to be loved by you.”

“Brian.” He uttered my name, and I heard the catch and the hunger.

“No.” I shivered hard, not caring that he was a blur as hot tears filled my eyes. “I’ve spent so long holding words in, being quiet, not telling you what I wanted and felt and had to have. No more!”

I heaved out a breath, and he let me go, hand gone from my dick, fingers sliding free of my fluttering hole.

“No!”

“Yes,” he yelled and covered me with his long hard body, mouth slanting down over mine, claiming me before I flew apart.

He ravaged my mouth and I writhed under him, legs around the backs of his thighs even as I felt his hand moving between us, capturing his own dick, guiding it to me.

“Please,” I panted against his throat. “Forgive me for being a coward.”

“Forgive me for being blind,” he murmured, lips moving on my skin.

“You’re right; we’re never supposed to be apart.”

“No, we’re not,” he decreed, and I felt the press of the enormous flared head slide between my ass cheeks. “Never again.”

“Varro!”

“I can’t— Brian!”

He couldn’t wait. He had to have me.

“Yours,” I promised.

He lifted off me and thrust forward, all his weight behind the hammering movement.

I roared his name.

“Yes?” he gasped.

“Yes!”

And that was all.

He knew me. I knew him. No more words needed.

My hands scrambled over smooth, sweaty skin as he bent me in half, tops of my thighs to my chest now before he pounded down into me, then leaned back, in and out, over and over, the motion powerful, each thrust deeper than the last, until he was buried to his balls in my ass.

“Can you feel me?”

I could probably taste him.

“You’re so tight and hot,” he rasped.

The feel of him, pushing, stretching, filling me, overwhelmed me. “Varro,” I cried.

“Jesus, why didn’t you tell me?” he ground out.

“We should have been doing this for years,” I half yelled, the sizzling in the base of my spine starting to lick its way higher, setting fire to nerve endings, tightening my balls, and causing my muscles to clench around the long, hard, thick length of him.