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He let out a breathy groan. “Linden,” he murmured, a tortured sound.
I met his gaze. “Are you worried about what happened before?” I asked. “I bought new condoms, if you’re concerned...”
He shook his head. “No. I just want to know you’re sure. One hundred percent.”
I ran my hands down his back to his arse and pulled him flush against me. “One hundred percent.”
He kissed me, hard, and inhaled deeply, his eyes closed. “Thank god. I’m so ready.” Then he grabbed my hand and led me to my bedroom. He pushed me back onto my bed, then proceeded to undress me, one torturous piece of clothing at a time.
When I was completely naked before him, he knelt between my thighs. He’d somehow lost his shoes and his shirt, but his jeans were still on.
Christ, he was hot.
“I don’t know how I could go months at a time without sex,” he murmured. “Before you. I never missed it. I never craved it. Now, with you, it’s been one week and I’m losing my mind.” He leaned over me, brushing his nose to mine. “I can’t get enough of you.”
“You can have me as often as you need,” I said, popping the button on his jeans. “But you’re still incredibly overdressed.”
He kissed me, bruising lips and hot tongue. I was lifting my hips, rocking, trying to find friction.
More, more, more.
“Keats,” I hissed.
He got the hint. He scrambled out of his jeans and dropped the lube and condoms on the bed. He worked me over, prepping me and getting me ready, until I was slick and panting with need.
Then he spread my thighs, lifted my arse, positioned his cock, and pushed into me. He kept one hand on my forehead,his eyes locked with mine, watching for every flicker of emotion, every feeling, every cue I could give him.
He took me slow and steady. With more patience than I had, with me his only concern.
When I’d adjusted to the size of him, to the most intimate breach, he began to move. Slow and deep, in and out, so much tenderness and care.
When he began to move faster—the pain of his restraint in his eyes, on his furrowed brow—I kissed him. “Faster, harder, Keats. I need more.”
It wasn’t for me. It was for him.
He squinted his eyes shut and groaned. “Fuck. I’m trying to... take my time.”
I rolled my hips, meeting his thrust. God, I could feel every inch of him. “Take me however you want me,” I whispered.
His fingers dug into my arse; he bucked into me and held it. I could feel his cock throb, and when he cried out, I could feel him spill into the condom.
Oh, hell yes.
I pulled his face to mine, thrusting my tongue into his mouth, and he shuddered as he rode out the waves of his orgasm.
So fucking hot.
He collapsed on top of me, his breathing ragged, and he let out a breathy laugh. “I was imagining that going a lot better,” he mumbled. “A lot longer, anyway. You didn’t come. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I said with a chuckle. “You can suck my dick later.”
He laughed and pulled back to look at me, his eyes now a glazed-over kind of serene. “Deal.”
He pulled out of me, careful that the condom had remained intact. Of course it had. And he disposed of it.
“Hey,” I hedged as he came back to bed. “Just a question. You don’t need to answer right now, but have a think and we can discuss it.”
He slid in beside me and wrapped me up in his arms, kissing my lips, my forehead. Clearly still enjoying his afterglow. “Ask away.”
