Page 90 of The Tartan Thesis

His mouth opens, tongue seeking, heat and intent searing between us, hands inside my blazer, over my sides, my back, like he’s been waiting for this as long as I have. I do the same, groping every bit of him I can. We grind together, and fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard before.

His jacket slides off his shoulders under my hands, and mine follows, discarded somewhere behind us, both of us fighting to keep our mouths together, clumsy with urgency, as we struggle to remove one of the barriers between us, both of us chuckling at the absurdity of our hunger and need. My mouth trails down, finding the line of his throat, and I take my time, pressing, tasting, licking, and sucking, drawing out a sound from him that sends a zing of desire directly to my cock.

“Beau,” he whispers in such desperation that I almost orgasm.

“You have no idea,” I murmur against his skin, kissing my way to his earlobe before nipping at it with my teeth, “how badly I wanted to get on my knees for you when I saw you in that kilt.”

“Oh, God,” he says as I grind against him, his hands encouraging me. “Tell me more things I don’t know.”

“The first time I met you,” I say, switching to the other side of his neck, his hand pulling my head tighter to him, “you looked so goddamn sexy. I wanted to throw you over my shoulder, carry you to my bed, and watch those beautiful green eyes roll back in your head.”

“Christ,” he gasps as I drag my mouth lower, working two of his buttons open, pulling the neck of his shirt down and sucking on the tender spot at his collar until his head tips back.

“Your turn,” I say, lifting off just enough to look at him. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“I—” he starts, then breaks off as I pull my hips back and grab his erection through his slacks.

“Say it, Torin,” I command, massaging his impressive length, tip to base, eliciting a reaction from him that I feel as much as hear.

“You don’t know,” he gasps, “how much I want to lick that huge vein in your right bicep every time I see it.”

“Oh, I definitely already knew that,” I say as I untuck his shirt and slide my hands around his exposed waist, gripping him tight, pressing against him, letting the friction build, feeling so right. “And then you want to lick the one on the left, don’t you?”

“Fuck. Yes.” The words spill out between kisses, his hands moving over my ass, “I could lick every bit of you.”

“And you’d let me lick every bit of you?” I ask before pressing my mouth to his again.

“God, yes,” he says, his hands roving my body. “Lick anything. Lick everything. Whatever you want. I’ve imagined you doing so many things to me. ”

A growl rumbles out of me as my hips snap, causing us to throb against each other in new ways. “Tell me something you’ve imagined me doing to you.”

“I—” He hesitates, so I bite his lip, then release it slowly.

“Torin,” I say, my voice a warning rumble, needing to hear him say it.

“Fuck,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut as my hips buck against him again.

“Look at me, Torin.” He does.

“I’ve imagined you”—he swallows, and in his smoldering expression I see heat and something more vulnerable—“looking up at me with those perfect blue eyes while you suck my cock.”

Every syllable of his words compounds the ache in my balls. It was all the permission I needed.

I step back, just enough to break the contact. I don’t rush, I let him feel it, the anticipation of every heightened second, as I drop to my knees in front of him, reach for his belt, enjoying the wide-eyed look of shock on his handsome face.

“What the—” he says, voice breathy.

“Torin, I need this,” I say, giving his cock a squeeze as I unbutton his pants, “and it seems like you need it, too.”

He nods and watches, lips parted, as I pull down his zipper.

27

Torin

No Chance

Translation: I’ll believe it when I see it