Page 6 of Grease & Grips (Friction Fiction #2)

K issing Andrés is the most natural thing in the world.

We’ve been at it maybe fifteen minutes, but it feels more like hours. Kinda hoping it’s cause time’s decided to give me a little grace and slow down so I can memorize the way he tastes and the way he sounds and the way he feels under my hands.

I’ve never done slow before. Most of what I’ve had didn’t come with eye contact, let alone this kind of tenderness. I keep pulling back to say something, but then he looks at me and it’s so goddamn magnetic I’m pulled right back in.

His hands slide under the hem of my shirt and settle against my stomach.

Normally, I’d be real self-conscious with the kinda guy you only ever see on TV built like a statue.

All sharp lines and perfect everything while I’m over here soft in places I don’t usually let anybody see, let alone touch, but his hands roam with a lot of tenderness. Like I’m something worth admiring.

It ain’t even the sex I’m panicking about. It’s the kindness and the way he’s being gentle. It damn near ruins me.

His dick’s pressed hard against mine where our hips meet, and when I pause to take him in he rocks up into me. The pressure hits just right and my whole body jerks with it. Eyes rolled back and spine arching

If I look down I know I’ll see a big-ass wet spot blooming on my jeans, sticky with the kind of pre-cum that only shows up when your brain’s long gone and your body’s running the show.

I haven’t been this turned on in my entire fucking life.

“I think we should slow down,” I blurt, scrambling back and practically falling onto my ass on the far end of the couch.

Andrés’ hair is a wild mess now. He’s been kissed stupid and loved every second of it. His lips are swollen and spit-slick and as I readjust my own cock in my pants desperate to relieve some of the pressure, they twitch into something that looks a lot like satisfaction.

Meanwhile, his own dick is straining against his slacks, thick and hard and very interested in what we were doing just moments ago. There’s a wet patch darkening the front and seeing it makes my throat go dry.

He leans back, arms draped lazy over the cushions.

“Sure,” he says a little breathless. “We can slow down.”

The look in his eyes is something I don’t have a name for.

“What,” I ask, suddenly self-conscious.

“You falling apart like that might be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Heat creeps up my neck into my face. I run my hands over my face and up through my hair hoping they can scrub the tension off me even if I know that flush on my face and the shaky laugh that escapes my lips makes it obvious as hell the effect he has on me.

“I like the sound of that,” he says, and it’s so clear the way his gaze lingers that he’s already picked up on my tells.

“The sound of what?” I ask, scratching the back of my neck and tugging at the short hairs there, trying not to squirm under the weight of his gaze.

“You laughing,” he says. “First time I’ve heard it tonight. Sounds good on you.”

The heat slowly blooming across my body explodes and settles in my cheeks. It burns so hot I can’t stand it.

“Don’t get used to it,” I mutter.

He exhales fast. “You always run when something feels good?”

Nothing Andrés has done tonight felt accusatory, but damn if he doesn’t notice everything.

I’ve flinched at his kindness and I’ve laughed just to cover my nerves and I’ve definitely spent the entire night pretending I’m not terrified he’ll leave and I get the distinct impression he’s clocked all of it.

My voice comes out quieter than I mean it to. “Only when it’s real.”

“Well,” he says, inching closer, “this is real, Mack, and I’m right here. So don’t run.”

Maybe it’s stupid, maybe it’s reckless, but for the first time in a long time… I don’t feel like I need to.

“I won’t,” I say. “I just… I needed someone to tell me to stay.”

His eyes don’t leave mine. “Is that what you think?”

“I guess. Everything’s just… a lot. I want to let go and go where the wind takes me.”

“I could be the wind,” he says after a beat.

My eyes snap to his. “What do you mean?”

He lifts one hand and rests it against my chest, right over my heart. “Do you trust me?”

“I just met you.”

“Okay. And? Do you think I’ll hurt you?”

Doesn’t take me long to figure that one out. He’s not gonna. There’s something in the way he touches me. Something in the way he’s seen every crack in me tonight and hasn’t once pulled away.

So I shake my head.

“Good,” he says, and that smile creeps in again. “Then let me take it from here.”

“To do what?”

He leans in, brushing his lips over mine. “Let me make it easy for you.”

That first kiss is soft, a brush of the lips offering me the sweetest taste of him. He stays close after. Close enough that I can feel his breath on my lips, giving me only a second to catch up before he goes in again.

“Here’s what I think, Mack.”

Another kiss. A little more firm this time. Like punctuation.

“I think I want to strip you out of those clothes,” he murmurs, hands grazing the hem of my shirt. “Nice and slow.”

His mouth brushes mine again, barely there. He’s too steady. Way too calm for what he’s doing to me.

“Then I want to get on my knees and wrap my mouth around your cock.”

I let out this stupid noise I didn’t mean to and of course he grins like he won something.

“I want to get you right to the edge,” he whispers, tongue flicking behind my ear, “so close it hurts.”

This next kiss is to my throat. He lingers there, lips dragging slow over the spot where my pulse’s hammering. I bet he can feel it, that thud-thud-thud, the proof of what he’s doing to me.

“But I’m not gonna let you cum.”

I gasp and grab at the nasty-ass couch under us, hips bucking up against him chasing some friction for my throbbing cock.

“Then I want you to eat my ass,” he says, matter-of-fact and filthy as sin, “until I’m writhing under you.”

I’m shaking now, fully gone, and he knows it.

“And once you’ve gotten your fill,” he breathes, thumb brushing my lower lip, “I want you to fuck me.”

He kisses me again and he pulls away looking so cocky and delicious.

Meanwhile I’m halfway to moaning or blacking out. Could go either way.

“Can you do that for me, Mack?”

The nod he gets is quick and desperate. I’m so turned on I can barely think straight. Eager in a way where I might die if he doesn’t touch me again soon.

The smile he gives me is devastating. He runs his thumb up over my chin and presses it into my mouth. I suck at it instinctively. He eases my jaw open, eyes locked on mine reading every shaky thought behind them.

He cocks his head to study me like he’s trying to read something written under my skin. His thumb is still pressed into my mouth staking its claim right against my tongue.

“You’re gonna fuck me,” he says, voice low and sure. “But I’m in charge in here. Do you understand?”

He pulls his thumb from my mouth, spit trailing down my chin before he catches me by the jaw, fingers firm but careful. I swallow hard and give a jerky nod.

“I need to hear you say it. I want this to be good for us. I want you to feel good. So tell me you understand.”

“Yes…” I stammer out. “Yes Sir.”

“So you’re gonna take what I give you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You gonna let go and just be happy with what you get?”

Another breath, another nod. “Yes, Sir.”

His thumb grazes my bottom lip again. “Open up.”

Not sure if it’s instinct or need, but I obey. He leans back then spits into my mouth. Then he’s kissing me. Fast, rough, no space between us. All tongue and teeth and pure want.

It’s filthy. It’s feral. It’s perfect.

When he finally pulls back, I swipe the back of my hand across my mouth, dragging spit and whatever else with it, but I can’t stop smiling.

“Good boy,” he murmurs.

There’s this wave that hits me hard when he starts unbuttoning my shirt. Not panic. Hell, that’s been gone a while now. It ain’t fear either. Knowing this man, who crashed into my night outta nowhere, is about to take control doesn’t make me feel lost.

It makes me feel found.

I feel wanted .

I’ve spent so long thinking I was stuck, waiting on life to look a certain way before I could even try to be happy, but there’s so much freedom in letting go of what I thought it was supposed to be.

Turns out, wanting something good isn’t the trap. Holding on to the wrong idea of it is.

Right now, I don’t need to worry about a damn thing.

Once he gets my shirt off, he starts on my pants teasing between these lazy, hungry kisses that are turning my brain to mush. I lift my hips so he can yank off my pants and boxers in one fluid motion.

The second my cock springs free, heavy and flushed and already leaking against my stomach, he freezes.

Let me tell you… nothing makes a guy feel more exposed than being naked on a grimy auto shop couch while a beautiful man just stares at your dick like he’s seen God.

“Jesus Christ,” Andrés breathes. “I felt it when we were making out, but seeing it with my own eyes is even crazier.”

I glance down and wince. “It’s proportional to the size of my body.”

Andrés shakes his head, eyes full of delight. “No. It’s fucking huge.”

It’s not the first time I’ve heard it. Locker room talk. Whispers from the few married guys who fooled around on the down-low. There’s always been a comment, but it’s the only dick I’ve ever had, so I don’t think much of it. Never knew how to feel about it either way.

With Andrés staring at me I shift in my seat suddenly hyper-aware. Is it too big? Too intense? Too much for whatever this was supposed to be?

“I can see your wheels turning,” he says, eyes still locked on my cock. “Don’t freak out. I don’t mean it in a bad way. I’m kind of a size queen myself.”

“Size queen?”

“You sheltered Southern boys,” He laughs, warm and full of sin. “Don’t worry. It’ll fit.”

He leans in to brush his lips against my neck, when I feel him nip at the sensitive skin. It’s not hard, but enough to make me suck in a breath. His clothed body drags against mine, grinding slow against my bare cock knowing exactly how needy I am for friction.

“The bigger, the better,” he whispers into my ear.

The noise that escapes me is something I’d never admit to. My hips buck against him seeking more, needing anything. He hums, pleased, and presses down harder.

“You’ve got more than enough to ruin me,” He says as he licks a slow, deliberate path from my collarbone to my ear where he sinks his teeth in and gives a playful tug.

My hands twitch at my sides unsure where to land.

“You’re gonna let me ride it.” His words hit me a second before his hand does. Trailing slow over my stomach until he’s got a fist around my cock and I’m gasping. “You’re gonna let me sit on this fat country dick and take what I want.”

A whimper slips out of me and his smile turns feral.

“Good boy,” he says while each button of his shirt comes undone one by one. He shrugs out of the sleeves and drops the shirt to the floor.

His chest is smooth and golden, carved up like the men I’ve dreamed about. The kind I used to get off to in secret with their perfect bodies you don’t just wanna fuck, but wanna crawl inside and live in. The kind of men we wanna be if we could.

One piece at a time he strips down ‘til it’s just some navy blue boxer briefs. There’s no hiding anything in those. The shape of his cock is bold and unapologetic against the fabric. His chest rises and falls with heavy breaths. His hair is wild.

So’s the look in his eyes.

I sit there, still as stone, staring up at him like he’s some kind of miracle. Because how did I end up here? How did a nobody from the middle of nowhere get a man like this? I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve him. I don’t know if I do. But right now, none of that matters.

I’ll give him whatever he asks of me.