Page 43 of Dedicated
“Definitely drunk.” My whisper came out a little garbled between the action of our tongues. He tasted like cinnamon and licorice.
Evan pulled back an inch. “Maybe that last shot was overkill. But I’m fine. Shut up before you ruin this.”
I wasn’t good at shutting up. “Ruin what?”
“What I’m considering doing to your cock.”
I lied. All hail shutting the fuck up.
He reached for the string tie on my shorts and yanked it loose with one hand, pushing my shirt up with his other and pinching one of my nipples so hard I hissed out in pain. He chased the sting with the heat of his mouth, dragging his lips across my chest as it rose and fell with my shallow breaths.
“You’re so easy to get hard,” he mused, like this was some fascinating aspect of my character.
“Don’t preen. I’m always horny.” And when it was Evan, I was as combustible as gasoline near an open flame. I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of telling him that, though.
“Yeah, I’ve gathered that over the thousands of hours we’ve been together.”
“Shhhh. It’s hotter when your mouth is closed.”
“Yeah?” He tugged my shorts down my thighs, easing to his knees as he did so. “You sure about that?”
Who was this man and where could I get more of him? Should I start spiking his morning OJ?
His breath streaked hot over my cock, and as he looked at me expectantly, I realized I hadn’t answered because I was fixated on the sight of him kneeling in front of me, his mouth a scant half inch from my raging hard-on. This was a sight I’d only ever dreamed of, so he’d have to excuse me for a couple of seconds while I made sure it was properly encoded into my spank bank for life. I’d be making frequent withdrawals in the future, no doubt, after we went back to the real world.
“I’m willing to reconsider,” I said after a moment. “Open that pretty mouth, Porter, and make me reconsider.”
I expected some kind of resistance, or some smartass comment. Instead, Evan kept his gaze fastened to mine as he leaned forward, dragged the tip of his tongue across my slit, and licked his lips.
“Shit,” I hissed out. The look in his eyes was a perfectly sinful mashup of daring and desire, a little teasing, and a whole universe of sexy that was way hotter than I’d given him credit for in my jerk fantasies. “More,” I demanded, my gaze dropping to his mouth as it hovered in front of my cock. I still couldn’t believe this was happening.
He flicked his tongue against me again, and I shivered. Then he opened wide and took me to the back of his throat, and my knees almost gave out at the torturous wet slick of his lips wrapped around me. “God, that’s good,” I gasped, and he murmured something that translated only as vibration. Delicious, hot vibration that coiled around the base of my cock. I was sober as fuck, and the guy who could give me a contact boner the way some people got contact highs was on his knees going to town on my dick. I’d clearly died, and as it turned out, the afterlife was fucking awesome.
Also, I wasn’t going to last long.
I braced my hands against the glass wall in front of me, leaning more of my weight into it as Evan licked up my shaft and pleasure roared through me. My hips rocked into the fist he wrapped around me, a low rumble escaping my chest while I tried to stave off my orgasm.
The next thing I knew, I was pitching forward.
I met resistance as I barreled into Evan, but it wasn’t enough to stop me. He went sprawling backward, his hand snapping out and clenching the back of my thigh in a futile effort to steady us. But no dice. I ended up on my side in a heap, Evan on his back, groaning. The greenhouse door we fell through swung gently beside him, knocking against his knee.
“Fuck,” Evan groused, and then looked over at me and started laughing. I wasn’t laughing. My shorts were tangled around my knees, I could feel a bruise forming over my ribs, and my supershiny fantasy moment had been cock-blocked by a fucking greenhouse.
I rolled onto my back and hitched my pants up, brushing away a frond of greenery that was tickling my cheek. I heard water trickling somewhere, and the air was humid and warm, pungent with the scent of dirt and plants.
“You okay?” Evan asked through his laughter, and I finally gave in and started laughing, too.
He helped me upright, and somewhere between my hand in his and him levering me up, we tangled together and started kissing again. Evan dropped his hands to my hips and shoved me up against a wooden counter laden with empty pots and a bag of soil that rattled and spilled over with my impact. His cock ground against my thigh as he licked my lower lip, reviving my dick. In seconds I was panting again. Slow kisses became deep strokes of our tongues, and I sucked on the tip of his, then latched onto his lower lip until he dug his fingers so hard into my sides I was certain there’d be marks tomorrow.
“Fuck, I want you.” His voice was sweet ache and hunger, and it hit every damn nerve ending in my body, making them dance like light thrown from a sparkler.
“So have me.” I didn’t know if he’d meant it that way, but I was sure as hell game.
“Right here?”
“Yeah.” I groaned and scrambled to kick off my shorts. I had no idea if he knew what he was doing, but I got my answer a second later when he spun me around. My palms flattened over the counter, fingers curling against the wood surface as he slid two spit-slick fingers between my cheeks, circling and rubbing my hole, then kneading the tract of skin behind my balls.
“Someone’s been watching po—” My words dissolved into a hiss as he prodded the tip of one finger inside me.