Page 36 of Contingently Yours

When his fingertip taps my ring like he’s knocking on a door, I gasp at the twitching sensation his touch invokes there.

Closing my eyes, I dig my fingers into his shoulder, hoping it’s the equivalent of becoming invisible.

Except, typical Andrew doesn’t miss a thing. His hot breath floods over my lips.

“Fuck, you kill me when you react like this,” he practically growls.

His hand disappears, and his hips stop grinding into mine. I flare my eyes open, wondering what I did wrong. Does he like how wanton he makes me or not? I don’t get it. When I spot the bottle of lube in his hand as he brings it back down behind me, I think I have my answer.

Shit. Round two. I think I’m about to get what I didn’t realize I just asked for.

“Why can’t you look at me when you mouth-breathe like that?” I hear him ask and realize I’m staring at his lips. “Or do you just prefer staring at my mouth?”

Said mouth ticks up at the corner just before it captures mine, and I hear the lube bottle cap flick open.

A rush of butterflies flips inside my chest at the sound.

When my tongue connects with his, I’m no longer feather-light.

I’m a thousand pounds of melting man, incinerated by the connection.

How has kissing never felt this good before?

My morning grogginess evaporates, and a message becomes clear. This is really happening.

Me.

Andrew.

Atomic passion.

Right here. Again. And…I can’t think of a single reason to fight it.

Slipping my fingers into the back of his hair, I pour myself into the kiss and hike my knee higher up his thigh, unsure if he needs more access.

He seemed to do all right last night, although he said he’d never been with a man.

Oddly, and despite that, I do trust him.

When his fingertip returns, it’s slick and cool this time, lighting up my entrance in anticipation.

Entrance … I’ve always thought of my asshole as an ‘ exit ,’ but I want nothing more than to feel a part of him expanding me again. Andrew may be careless in all things, but I’m starting to realize not when it comes to pleasuring me.

He must appreciate my eagerness because he groans right along with me when he inserts that wicked fingertip of his.

It still feels strange and kind of foreign, but only for a second.

Then it just feels like home, like I’m home with him.

Bizarre, I know, but I’m too far gone to analyze it.

He connects with my prostate and circles it, making my eyes cross and my head fall back on a throaty moan.

His mouth envelops my Adam’s apple, and his hips buck into mine.

“Damn, Tufty,” he rasps against my throat. “Goddamn.”

His mouth sucks on my neck again, probably leaving a mark.

It’s vicious and almost painful, but sinfully exquisite all at once.

I writhe uncontrollably, mad for more friction where our cocks are rubbing between us.

I don’t even know if this is considered any kind of sex or foreplay, but it damn well should be.

“Yeah,” he pants, “grind that cock against me.”

I want to. Lord, do I ever, but want and ability are two different things.

I find my hand on his ass and realize it’s the first time I’ve ever felt it.

It’s firm and bulky, so unlike any other I’ve touched.

I press him into me to help eradicate any semblance of space that may be left between us.

All I know right now is that I’ve never felt this incredible, that he wants me, and that I think most of my feeling incredible is because of how much he seems to want me.

My gaze connects with his, and I can’t decide whether it was the worst or best idea in the history of unplanned ideas.

It’s like being shown the true definition of passion.

Whatever I thought I knew before wasn’t it.

I crash my mouth into his and give over any amount of restraint I was hanging onto.

Hot, wet heat erupts between us. My cock is pulsing.

My body is convulsing. Andrew cries out into my mouth, and the heat amplifies between us, telling me he’s coming with me.

I’m clawing at him and clinging to him. His finger at some point turned into two without me even realizing, and it’s the most comforting sensation of fullness I didn’t know I needed.

Sore, but comforting all the same. It feels like I earned it.

Earned something more than a dalliance from Andrew Broadhouse.

My grip slackens as I come down, and he slips free of my hole. His hand stays there, though, kneading slow circles across the globe of my ass. I can barely breathe, but drunkenly accept each surprising little kiss he gives me. One after another.

We’re kissing, and we don’t have to. No one’s watching. Which means we’re really kissing. Someone is kissing me because they want to kiss me. Vaguely, I’m aware of a distracting sound, but I try to blot it out. It’s not until I hear a voice that I realize it was likely knocking.

“Hey, fellas. We’re up and about whenever you’re ready,” Mason’s voice calls from the doorway.

Oh shit! Catching sight of him over Andrew’s shoulder, I stiffen and follow my instinct—burying my head under Andrew’s chin.

“Sorry, I thought maybe you didn’t get to set an alarm with the power outage last night. It’s half-past nine already, but take your time. We’re in no hurry. Just wanted to let you know we saved you some breakfast.”

Andrew’s arms tighten around me, but he cants his head backward toward Mason. “Thanks. Give us a bit to shower and we’ll be out. Sorry, we must have lost track of time.”

“No apologies needed, but you were right, Lucas; the place is brilliant.”

The door closes, and I release a breath. “Fuck,” I mutter and swipe my hand down my face.

I completely forgot about showing the Hepperlys the rest of the property today. I wonder how much of it they’ve snooped on their own without me to upsell the features.

“Hey,” Andrew chimes in, drawing my hand away, “it’ll be fine. Come on. Let’s get cleaned up, and then you can work your magic.”

My magic? Who is he?

He pats me on the cheek and climbs out of bed. I’m left looking down at the mess covering my stomach and the morning light streaming in to illuminate it.

“You coming?” a cheerful voice calls. I glance up and find him waggling his eyebrows at me by the bathroom door. “We can play army.”

I think that’s supposed to be a joke to put me at ease about co-showering, but I’m not used to jokes from him putting me at ease.

The sight of his full-frontal nudity is also something I’m not used to.

And while I wouldn’t say it puts me at ease, it ruffles me for another reason.

If I go into that shower with him, I don’t know if it will be as quick as we need it to be.

“Come on, Tufty. I’ve already soaped you up before.” He grins. “Don’t deprive your man on your big day.”

And so begins the most surreal day of my life. I wait at every turn for the bottom to drop out, but it doesn’t.

When I show the Hepperlys all the rooms, Andrew stands by with what looks like a proud smile while I do all the talking.

When I take them outside to view the outbuildings and guest house, he’s Johnny-on-the-spot, opening blinds and exterior doors that help accent the spaces with natural lighting.

Stranger still are the occasional squeezes he gives me and whispers of “You got this” and “Good job.”

After we’ve shown all there is to show and agreed to give the Hepperlys an hour before we meet up for dinner in town, he grabs my hand and heads toward the beach.

Stopping by a retaining wall, he motions for me to take a seat.

I didn’t peg him for the type to watch sunsets, but it seems like a peaceful way to pass the time while we’re in limbo for our clients’ decision.

What I don’t expect is when he climbs up on the wall and takes a seat behind me, effectively straddling his legs around me. His fingers settle on my shoulders and work the muscles there.

“It’ll be good. I have a good feeling,” he comments off-handedly.

“You’re awfully optimistic today.”

“I have to be.” He laughs. “Because you’re freaking out.”

“I am not.”

Scoffing, his fingers dig deeper into the knots in my shoulders. “Look at you. Arms crossed, tense as shit. I bet you want to eat a comfort granola bar right now.”

Shaking my head, I let my arms fall to my sides. “And there’s the Andrew I know,” I murmur, although I feel a smirk playing on my lips.

“What are you going to do with your commission?”

I don’t know why he’s so sure I’ve made a sale.

I know we’re splitting it regardless of who sells the three properties, but I’d really like to be the one to make this deal.

Also, I don’t exactly feel like rehashing my current state of financial affairs.

It makes me tense under his touch just when I was starting to give in to the unexpected pampering.

“I already told you,” I mumble, kicking at a rock in the sand.

“I saved up for the girls’ wedding, so I haven’t been able to pay extra on my loans for a while.

I’ll use the commission to knock out what’s left from my wedding loan, my truck, and then probably put a chunk down on my house to get ahead. ”

“Seriously, you’re not going to do anything nice for yourself?”

“Being financially responsible is nice,” I counter.

“Such a wild man.”

I don’t have to pay ahead on my house. My interest rate is stable, and I’m healthy. I’ll probably live long enough to pay it off. If not, I’ve got enough life insurance for Mom and the girls that they can pay it off and still have some left over for themselves.

“My mom could use a new bathroom remodel,” I venture, trying to prove to him that I can be reckless.

His sigh gusts against the back of my ear. That must mean I’ve disappointed him. His hands move to my lower back and begin to knead at the small of my spine.

“Tufty, Tufty, Tufty…” he murmurs. “Okay. Tell me this—if there was one thing you could have or do and money wasn’t an option, what would it be?” Before I can even think of a response, he adds, “For you . Not anyone else. Just for you.”

His thumbs dig into the tight muscles along my spine where my arthritis always kills me, making me grunt. I drop my head and close my eyes, trying to humor his ridiculous request.

“Army injury?” he asks softly.

“I slipped a disc when I was loading my gear onto a flight one day,” I admit. “I don’t know why. I’d done it dozens of times before.”

He works the spot for a while. It doesn’t escape my attention how careful he is. I think I may have broken him when I had that come-to-Jesus moment with him in the sunroom yesterday. This Andrew is…

Uhn, that feels so good.

“Well? I’m waiting?” he interrupts.

“I don’t know! I don’t need anything.”

“It’s not about whether you need anything. It’s about what you want . What your heart’s wildest desire is. That’s what hypotheticals are for.”

Try as I might, nothing that might inspire Andrew comes to mind. “I don’t know. I don’t want anything.”

His hands leave my back. I feel two fingers pressed against my jugular.

“What are you doing?”

“Checking for a pulse. Seriously, are you human?” he laughs.

I no sooner smack his hand away than Mason pops around the corner of the wall, scaring the shit out of me. Man, the guy just appears out of nowhere all the damn time.

“Are we doing dinner or what?” he asks.

“Yeah. Ready whenever you are,” Andrew doesn’t miss a beat, sliding down from the wall. “Did you guys get to talk it over about the property?” he asks, flashing me a smirk like he knows I’m itching for an answer.

“Well, we were going to wait to tell you over dinner, but if you promise to act surprised,” Mason says conspiratorially, slinging an arm over each of our shoulders, “Welcome to the Hepperly US home, mates!”

I’m nearly clotheslined by Mason’s arm when he continues walking, and I stop in my tracks. I did it. I actually fucking did it. I sold them their dream home.

Andrew’s widened eyes meet mine. He turns in Mason’s hold and grips both sides of the man’s face. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“No,” Mason laughs. “We love it.”

Andrew pulls him into a hug and slaps him on the back. I’m so damn ecstatic I can’t stop a giddy laugh. It only grows louder when he practically shoves Mason out of the way to pick me up in a bear hug and spin me around. It’s my face that he grabs next, but this time he plants a kiss.

“I fucking told you,” he enthuses, coming up grinning. Flashing a smile at Mason, he adds, “Can my man pick a winner or what?”

I think I float for the rest of the evening.

And I think it has everything to do with the fact that Andrew didn’t react anywhere near this way to selling the cay property in the Isles to them.

Shannon wasn’t unsupportive, but she sure as hell never championed me with this level of enthusiasm.

You’d think our dinner would be to celebrate the Hepperlys finding their forever family home in the US, but within the first few minutes, Andrew set the precedent that I’m the one to be celebrated.

Or maybe it just feels that way with how close he sits to me.

His arm never leaves the back of my chair.

His hand never stops stroking my shoulder.

I lose count of how many times he leans in to steal a kiss or murmur something silly in my ear or the crook of my neck.

The drinks flow liberally, and at one point, I can’t tell whether the warmth in me is from the alcohol or the overpowering presence of the life force that is the proud boyfriend at my side.

It all becomes a bit cloudy, but I think I actually sat on his lap when we squished into the Uber on the ride back to the house at the end of the night.

What wasn’t cloudy was the repeat of this morning once we hit the privacy of our room. The speed at which we got naked. The feel of his skin against mine. And the words he said to me.

So fucking hot.

Like a giant teddy bear with a big ol’ cock.

Say my name, Lucas. Say it loud enough so that everyone can hear it.

They were as ridiculous as he was. Yet, I’m pretty sure I did as he asked. It’s the last thing I remember saying, repeating it like a drunken prayer as I drifted off to sleep, sated, happy, and full of my heart’s desire. There is one thing I want, after all—to feel like that all the time.