Page 13 of Erotic Temptations 2
He poured two glasses, pushing one into my hand. Our fingers brushed, lingering. I sipped, pretending it didn’t mess me up how easy it was to fall back into this, to want something simple after all these crap years.
Dinner was pasta, sauce heavy with cheese and bacon. I moaned unconsciously at the first bite, which probably did nothing for the dignity I’d already lost at the rink.
Ryan watched me eat, his smile lazy, eyes on my mouth. “Good?”
“Should have skipped the skating and started with this.”
He wiped his mouth with a napkin, never breaking eye contact. “There’s always tomorrow.”
Afterward, we did the dishes together. Ryan rolled up his sleeves, dunked his hands in suds, and started scrubbing in looping circles. I rinsed, and his arm brushed mine over and over, like we didn’t have anything better to do than stand hereand see how many times we could bump hips before one of us snapped.
When it was over, his hand slipped around my lower back. He pulled me in, kissing me slow and soft, tongue nudging inside until I gasped. If he’d asked me to stay there at the sink for the rest of my natural life, I might have. The only thing forcing us apart was the sound of the movie he’d left playing in the living room.
“Movie?” he asked, and when I nodded, he just took my hand and walked us out.
On the couch, Ryan pulled me into the space between his legs and wrapped his arms around my waist. I melted there, the heat from his body soaking into me. He traced a finger up and down my side, watching the TV with fake focus. I pretended to care about the movie, but mostly I cared about the way he scattered little kisses behind my ear, sometimes on my neck, never quite satisfied.
“Can’t help myself,” he murmured at one point, his breath tickling my neck.
“Don’t let me stop you.”
He didn’t. Suddenly I was flat on my back, Ryan over me, his mouth pressing hard against mine, hand cradling my jaw. I opened for him, and he deepened the kiss, making me wonder if we’d ever catch our breath again.
Ryan’s hand clamped to the back of my neck, his palm hot, fingers flexing just enough to let me know I wasn’t going anywhere. His tongue slid into my mouth, confident and greedy, catching mine and teasing before retreating.
I couldn’t help it. I moaned, practically melting against him. His body pressed all along mine, pinning me between couch cushions and every inch of him. My pulse thumped loud enough I was sure he’d feel it.
My hands found their way to his shirt, fingers bunching the material at his shoulders. His smell flooded me, laundry and sweat and something that was pure Ryan. My thoughts scrambled, all focus narrowing down to the slick slide of his tongue, the scrape of stubble along my jaw, the clutch of his hand at my jawline.
I couldn’t get enough.
He settled between my knees, pinning my thighs outward. The grind of his hips rocked me where I sprawled, and suddenly every nerve I had was on high alert. My erection strained against denim, already wet at the tip. It was ridiculous how fast he undid me with half a kiss and a handful of heat.
Ryan’s mouth never stopped moving. He found my earlobe, sucked it in, worrying it with his teeth. The shudder in my body was pure reflex.
“Shit, Alan,” he groaned, the sound hoarse, low. “Been thinking about this all damn day.”
I wanted to wind him up, make him feel what I felt.
“You’re a tease,” I said, right against his ear. “Going slow just to drive me up the wall.”
He laughed and nosed down my neck, lips hot against my skin. “It’s working.”
His tongue traced a line under my jaw. His hands moved, rough and needy, one cupping my thigh, hiking my knee up. The movement forced my hips up into his, pressure building fast and hard.
My own hands slid under his shirt, desperate for skin. The heat there was unreal, muscles flexing under my fingertips. I wanted to map every inch, memorize every dip and ridge. He felt solid, strong, real in a way that made my breath catch.
Ryan tugged my sweater up my stomach, exposing me to the cool air of the living room. His knuckles brushed my abs, the drag of callused fingers setting off a dozen alarms in my brain.He hesitated, just enough to look at me. Something in his face made me ache. There was a flash of vulnerability, a question he didn’t need to ask.
I lifted my arms for him, wordless, and let him strip the sweater over my head. My shirt followed. I should have been embarrassed, sprawled in an old college tee, but all I saw in his eyes was raw hunger.
His mouth found my collarbone, kissing, then biting. He marked a line down to my nipple, tongue flicking, teeth catching the sensitive tip. I arched, helpless to stop the way my back bowed off the couch. His fingers rolled the other nipple, pinching lightly, and the sting made my cock throb.
“God, that’s good,” I gasped, clutching the back of his neck.
He shifted, grinding down, making sure I felt just how hard he was. Our cocks lined up, denim on denim, friction almost too much to bear.
“I want you,” he murmured. “Right fucking now.”