Page 87 of Home Ice

“How’s that?” I ask by his ear.

“So good.”

“I can’t get over how needy you are, Barrett.” I stroke in and out some more. “You ready for my cock?”

He lets out a disbelieving laugh. “I’ve been ready for your cock since the first time you mentioned fucking me.”

Me too. I slide my fingers back in deep, imagining that tight heat around my dick. I’m so ready for it, my teeth are clamped together as I rub my shaft against his side to take some of the ache away.

The shower flowing over us is making everything feel sharper. Making my skin come alive. If we don’t get out of this shower soon, I’m going to end up fucking him up against the wall.

Which will feel amazing, but the deep ache in my gut wants more than that. More than the fast, greedy orgasms we’ve given each other so far. I want to fuck Barrett so deeply he feels me for days.

My fingers slide free, and I dip my head to press a kiss to his shoulder. “Bed.”

He doesn’t answer, just shuts off the water, opens the door, and hands me a towel.

We dry off, and I watch his every movement, committing the flex of his strong arms to memory, the way his back dips and droplets bubble along his spine. The ample curve of his ass that meets thick thighs.

Barrett is everything.

He’s barely turned to face me when I stoop down and lift him off his feet. It feels like I’ve been hard for fucking hours, and my impatience is starting to win out. I need him under me. I need to be buried inside him.

He growls into my mouth as our lips connect, and the kiss takes my brain offline. He’s a heavy, comforting weight, even as my arm muscles strain. It’s a fair trade-off for his warm thighs strangling my hips, his fingers tugging at my hair, the dominating tongue, and the desperate way he’s trying to rock his cock against mine.

My knees hit the side of the bed, and I toss him onto it. The split second of our bodies parted is too much. Too soon. I need him here to know this is real.

I cover him with my body, torso to torso, thighs to thighs. We kiss for so long my jaw complains, but I keep going. Keep wanting and needing this connection that has us both breathless and hungry for more.

And the entire time we kiss, there’s this ache building. Starting in my chest, burning hotter by the second. The more I’m consumed by Barrett, the deeper it goes. Chest to limbs, like treacle seeping out to the most forgotten stretches of my body and reminding me that they’re there.

The ache makes me kiss him deeper, knowing it will never be deep enough.

It makes me rub my body against his, knowing it will never be close enough.

It makes my hands search and touch and indulge, knowing that I’ll never be able to find exactly what it is I’m after.

Tai Barrett is killing me.

And he’s not doing a fucking thing.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

TAI

Hawke’s cock is leaking. Or maybe it’s mine. Hard to tell. All my nerve endings are on fire as he kisses me, and his body writhes against mine.

Hawke, naked and blanketing me, is pushing me to the danger zone of this orgasm, and I refuse to come until he fucks me.

I wriggle beneath him until I get my mouth free. But he moves to kissing my neck, and I almost forget what I was going to say.

“Now,” comes out scratchy and soft. “Need you now.”

He reaches for the end of the bed and grabs the bag, dragging it closer to us. Through his kisses and my heavy breathing, I hear him tug the zipper open.

Over and over, he rolls his hips against mine, and then he reaches down, and his fingers find my hole again. They’re slippery with lube, and as soon as he fills me with them, my legs part to give him more room.

Shit, I’m so sensitive down there, and I don’t know if it’s something Hawke has picked up on or if he’s lucked into finding my weakness, but it’s like sensory overload as his fingers fill me and slowly tease me wider.