Page 71 of Baxter's Right-Hand Man
His hands were on my belt, unbuckling, unzipping…undoing me. He licked the column of my throat as he slipped his fingers under the elastic of my boxer briefs, and curled them around my shaft.
“Mmm, I—we…fuck, yes,” I moaned.
“I got tested last week. Standard preproduction procedure.” He stroked…up and down, up and down. “And I haven’t been with anyone but you.” Up and down, up and down. “We don’t have to do this now, but I want to know what it feels like to—”
I shut him up with a manic mash of lips and tongue.
Pierce had just enough time to get his hand out of the way before I hiked my leg over. He picked me up, supporting my weight on his forearm while he traced my crack with his free hand. When his cool fingers massaged my hole, I knew it was a matter of seconds till I shimmied my briefs off and offered my ass like a prize.
“I test regularly too…habit,” I hummed. “You’re the only one—I…oh…the only one I—”
“Want fucking your sweet hole?” He bit my ear and licked it better as he rested the pad of his middle digit on my entrance, applying just the right amount of pressure to make me lose my mind. “Say it.”
“Yes, I want that. I want you to fuck me.”
His finger pressed deeper. “You want me to fuck your sweet hole. Say it. Go on, baby.”
“Ungh!Fuck my sweet hole! Fuck me, fuck me now.”
“Bend over the table.” Pierce growled as he released me, his fingers flying over his belt. “Please tell me there’s lube somewhere in this store.”
“My bag,” I panted, lowering my khakis to my ankles, then pointing to the leather satchel sitting on the top shelf. “Inside pocket.”
“Got it. Christ, you have a lot of stuff in here. What’s this?”
I bent over the table, twisting to glance his way. “A hairbrush.”
“That’s not a hairbrush.”
“Yes, it is. It’s a compact brush…for travel and I—oh.” A slick finger caressed my hole. I swallowed hard and met his gaze over my shoulder.
Pierce unbuttoned his shirt and shoved his jeans down with his free hand as he stretched me, patiently coaxing me to open.
Quick note: I was an expert bottom. I’d been sexually active for twenty years, and I knew how to breathe and relax. The initial burn did something for me. I loved the feeling of being pushed to my limit before pain receded and pleasure became the name of the game. I’d only gone without a condom for one other man, though. And I’d loved him. But that was over and this was now.
Nowadays, PrEP was a thing and safe sex was often part of the conversation. Pierce had mentioned his preproduction physical with a casualness reserved for cereal choices and weather reports. Yet to me…this was a big deal.
I wasn’t going to ruin this by pointing that out, though. I didn’t want him to think I’d developed feelings for him. Okay, yes…guilty. I liked Pierce, and these glimpses of a vulnerable man who questioned his self-worth and took responsibility seriously…well, I could fall hard for that man. But right this moment, I—
“I haven’t done this in a while,” I blurted.
Pierce smirked as he slipped his middle digit inside me. “I’m pretty sure we did this last night.”
“Without a condom.”
He stilled for a beat. “That’s okay. We can use one. I saw a condom in your bag and—”
“I want to. I just…wanted you to know. That’s all.”
Pierce bent to kiss my shoulder as he slid another digit inside, his cock leaking against my left ass cheek.
“I’ll make it good for you, Lo.”
I smiled shyly and bit my bottom lip to keep from spouting anything corny, like “You always do.” Just as well. I lost my ability to think cohesive thoughts when he added lube and a third finger.
My breath hitched as I flattened my left palm on the table and reached for my cock. I shamelessly fucked myself on his hand. It felt too good. I had to stop, or this would be over in no time.
He must have been thinking the same thing, because he abruptly pulled away and turned me to face him.