Page 39 of Gym Bros (Bay Area Bros #2)
I shake my head, unable to stop myself from rolling my eyes. “Why would I want someone else?”
He gives a long blink. “You know you said that out loud, right?”
Am I going to die tonight? Feels like maybe. “Yes, Samuel. Being boyfriends implies you’re the only one I’m interested in.”
He slides his phone from his side jacket pocket, glances at me, then down at it, and taps the screen a few times. I’m about to get impatient because wow—rude—but then my phone chimes. I pull it out and look at the screen .
Samuel Ray has shared his location with you.
I huff a panic laced breath and share my location with him, too. I guess it is official. “Is that all?” I ask. “Stop playing with me. I’m a mess.”
“Why are you a mess?”
“You’re really putting me through some shit over here, and all I agreed to was oysters.”
“You’ll get your oysters, angel.”
“And you’ll have some, too?”
“I’ll try,” he says sincerely.
I’m about to close my screen but a text comes through as my thumb hovers over the button.
Marcus
At the airport. I’ll be in town for the night. Busy?
I nearly throw up.
“You okay?” Sam asks.
I have the distinct urge to throw my phone across the room or swallow it whole. “Um…one second,” I say shakily, tapping out a reply.
Me
I’m on a date.
Marcus
Will you be free later?
Jesus fucking Christ.
Me
No. Gotta go.
I close the phone and clear my throat, forcing a smile for Samuel like nothing is amiss. Like his father isn’t giving me a literal booty call. “Do you have anything planned for after dinner?” I ask.
“If it goes well, I’m planning to invite you back to my place. Who was that? You look pale.”
“Just Rachel. I’d love to go back to your place.”
His eyes sparkle as he stares at me, something both hot and generous in his gaze. “Good. Can I ask you something? Like sincerely?”
My breath hitches, but I nod.
For this, his gaze narrows, and my stomach flips. “How much do you like me?” he asks.
Oh good. This one’s easy. Anything not having to do with my phone is super simple. I try to re-center myself in full flirt mode. “If I tell you, will you answer the same question?”
“Sure,” he says.
“A lot. Like—enough that it feels a little stupid.” Understatement.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I say softly.
“What do you consider stupid?” he asks.
The fact that one word from his father could make this blow up in my face at any second, and I think my heart could actually sustain damage. “You just feel risky is all. You’re young.”
“Mm.” He takes this in as though he totally understands. “I don’t change my mind very often if that helps. I’m extremely stubborn.”
“Yeah, I noticed that.”
“Can I tell you how much I like you now?”
I might throw up. I nod again.
“You’re my favorite person I’ve ever met.”
Oh God. I manage a wobbly smile even as my eyes heat and all my messy emotions rise to the surface .
When my voice starts to work, it’s only in a whisper. “I think you might be mine, too.”
Samuel’s mouth tastes like the sea and expensive wine.
He loved the oysters. He didn’t even finish his entrée because he kept wanting more. Watching the way he enjoyed them got me painfully hard beneath the tablecloth, and now I’m in severe danger of tearing the seams of his new suit to get to his skin so I can taste that, too.
We’ve made it as far as the edge of the living room rug. “Get this off,” I say with naked frustration at the nice fit around his broad shoulders.
He shrugs the jacket off and tosses it to the couch.
His tie is already undone. He did that in the car along with opening his top shirt button.
My fingers fly through the rest of them with surprising dexterity considering how anxious with need I feel.
He takes care of his belt buckle while he keeps trying to distract me with kisses.
I manage to get his shirt unfastened and untucked, and he gets his pants open before I’m back in a lip lock with him and he’s hoisting me off the floor. I wrap myself around him, sinking my tongue over and over again into his mouth where it meets his in thick, delicious licks.
“Couch?” he asks, in a rough low voice. “Bed? Or do you want me to get creative?”
“Bed,” I say. “Definitely bed.” I need room. I need to see him. All of him. Lights on—everything.
As he hauls me toward his bedroom, he says, “I thought all that stuff about oysters making you horny was on old wives’ tale. ”
“Watching you eat oysters is what made me horny. They were good and everything, but you were…”
“I was?”
“You were.”
Without letting go of me, Samuel follows me onto the bed, his hands smoothing over my overly styled hair, and his mouth never far from mine.
He keeps about half his body weight on me, which is his way of not crushing me while still kind of crushing me.
His hand moves up and down my sheer shirt. “This is gorgeous,” he says.
“You should see the rest of it.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Get me naked, Sam.”
He eases off me so I can sit up and take off my jacket. Meanwhile, he’s sliding off my boots and peeling off my socks.
I lie there and let him work methodically from the bottom up, adoring the focused look on his face too much. He gets to my belt and fly. Once they’re undone, I lift my hips for him and then my legs as he slides the fabric off me.
“Baby…” he whispers.
I fucking die a little bit every time he calls me that.
The top I’m wearing is actually a bodysuit.
A crotchless bodysuit with cage straps on the ass.
He hasn’t seen that part yet, though. He’s staring down at my other accessory.
When I was getting dressed, I was considering the entire look, a layer at a time, and the body suit is sexy, but it was missing a little something.
So I added a random leather strap to my left thigh. A garter, if you will. It works.
He runs his hands over the leather and the buckle securing it to my thigh. “Does this serve a purpose?”
“None whatsoever,” I tell him.
“I love it. It makes your dick look amazing. ”
I smile and give his head a rub, wanting his eyes back on my face for a second.
He gives me his heated stare. “You’re just…stunning.”
“Thank you,” I whisper. Somehow it means the most when he says it.
More than it’s ever meant from anyone. When Samuel says it, it feels like more than an appraisal of my looks or my choice of clothes.
It’s appreciation. Of my style, my appeal.
It’s even, dare I say, a tacit acknowledgment of my adoration.
As though he understands that I wouldn’t dress like this for just anyone.
That I do it specifically for him. To show off for him and surprise him. To turn him on.
He doesn’t know I now shop with him in mind, but he must know I dress for his very specific gaze.
“Back it up,” he says, nodding toward the headboard. “I’m gonna need some time down here.”
I slide back like a photographer’s lens is capturing every motion.
I keep my eyes on Samuel’s and make every movement up the bed as sensual as I’m capable of.
When I recline on his pillows, I bend my knees and part them.
He stands at the foot of the bed, giving me a show of his own as he takes off his pants, shoes and socks.
What’s left is an incredibly slutty pair of black briefs.
“Those are new,” I say.
“You like ‘em?”
He turns to give me the ass profile view. His bulge is also quite notable.
I lift my brows and nod. “Very nice. Kinda makes you look like a fuck boy.”
“Kinda feel like one lately,” he says.
“Exclusive, though, right?”
“Yes, kitten. Exclusive. Devoted.” He slides his thumbs behind his waistband. “Obsessed.”
“Really?” I ask, my voice so bright it cracks .
“Are the oysters supposed to make me extra honest, too? Anyway, yeah.” The waistband gets a workout as it stretches enough to get around his huge erection and his stacked ass. “Obsessed,” he says again.
That’s so fucking validating, I want to shout ohmygod, same and stay up the rest of the night telling him everything about him that drives me wild in the best way. But the need to come is significantly more urgent.
He gets the lube off the nightstand and tosses it onto the bed where it’s even more handy. It hasn’t been in the drawer for weeks, but the bed is a king, and I’m in the center of it. Why stretch if we don’t need to? Love the way he plans ahead.
He returns to the foot of the bed, kneels on the mattress, puts his hands on my knees and runs them down my inner thighs. I respond like I haven’t been touched in a year. A full tremble. A spurt of precum. All very dignified.
He caresses the thigh strap a few times before settling himself on his stomach, sliding his hands under my ass and kissing the crease between my groin and thigh. He’s found the straps in the back and his fingers toy with them. He glances up at me. “There’s more?”
“Turns out, I’m actually three-dimensional.”
He huffs a laugh. “That’s something I really dig about you. Now, say something nice about me while I suck your cock.”
He takes me whole, wrapping his lips around my base before sliding them up my shaft.
“How fast do you want me to come?” is all I can manage.
He meets my eyes, like he’s annoyed I asked a question while his mouth is full.
“I only ask because Jesus…that feels amazing.”
His next look tells me I can do better.
He’s right. That was the most generic praise ever. “Do you like sucking my dick? ”
“Mmhm.”
“Balls too?”
“Mmhm.”
“You can be rougher. If you want.”
He changes three things all at once. The suction, the tightness of his lips, and then I feel his tongue lapping at me with every bob of his head.
God, it makes me wish I were big enough to fuck his throat. My hips writhe anyway, thrusting slightly with each twisting movement.
His nails dig into my ass cheeks, pulling hard at the flimsy straps. He turns his head this way and that, coming at me from new angles and taking me quickly to the edge.
“Samuel—oh God?—”