Page 6

CHAPTER 6

KEANE

As the storm raged outside, Henry came like he was having an otherworldly experience.

A storm is raging inside me, too, as corny as that sounds. A tempest. I want this man. I want him badly —his sweetness and his sexiness, his innocence and his seduction.

I want to fuck him.

But I also want to make sure, more than sure, that he’s okay with it. I know he’s the one who propositioned me, and I know he just asked for this. But I’m worried he may be saying what he thinks he should say rather than expressing how he really feels. I want to be certain we’re on the same page.

“We don’t have to,” I whisper against Henry’s skin.

He makes an annoyed sound. “I want to,” he says. “If you do, that is.”

“I very much do.” I study him and decide not to keep bugging him. He’s young, but he’s not a child. I can trust him to tell me if something isn’t working for him. I stand, taking him with me. I can’t help grunting a little bit at his weight, but he’s not that big.

He wraps his legs around my waist and his arms around my neck and holds on like a koala.

I want too many things, all at once. A few steps down the hallway, I stop and press him up against the wall. “Need your mouth, Henry,” I whisper.

He opens for me like a little bird, and I ravage his mouth. He moans, and the sound goes straight to my cock.

“God,” I groan, breaking away. “I need to be inside you.”

“Please” is all he says, and that simple word breaks me.

I race with him to the bedroom and toss him onto my mattress. He laughs as he bounces. Then I yank his pants down by the ankles, and he helps me, gently kicking his feet to free himself from the fabric.

“Fuck,” I murmur, taking in his naked form sprawled on my bed. At twenty-two, he can recover much faster than I can, and his cock is already half-hard again.

“Let me see you,” he whispers, and I comply, taking off my shirt. His appreciative intake of breath makes me want to preen. I work out, and this is the reward for my effort, I guess.

I lean over him, still in my flannel pants, and kiss his mouth, my hard dick eager to grind against him. Henry reaches down to grab my ass, but I break away yet again, needing to make this last. “Hold that thought,” I say, as I begin to lick my way down his body.

Henry throws his arms out, grabbing at the duvet, but he stops and arches his back up when I get to his nipples. His torso is sleek and trim, and he’s so responsive.

I lick around his nipple, then flatten my tongue against it, eliciting another moan. Kneeling on the bed, I lave his other nipple, then kiss my way down his torso, aiming for his cock. I swallow him whole, and he tastes salty but also sweet from his previous release.

His cock jumps in my mouth. “Oh, God,” he says. “I’m so … so sensitive.”

As I suck on him, his cock gets harder and harder. I fucking love it. I glance up, and he’s looking at me with such adoring eyes that my heart skips like a stone across a lake—buoyant when it shouldn’t be. Defying nature. Having fun it hasn’t had in years. That I haven’t had in years.

Henry makes me feel ageless. Like who I really am without the weight of societal expectations.

God, this man. Now that he’s in the “allowed to be with” category, I’m finding that I can’t imagine saying no to him.

He’s all-the-way hard, because youth, and he’s squirming, and I double down on sucking him, wanting to see how far I can push him.

But then he pulls out of my mouth, turns over on the bed, and gets onto his hands and knees. He looks at me over his shoulder, and I remember that he’s the farthest thing from safe.

Henry’s dangerous. And I love it.

Now it’s my turn to hold in a whimper as I take in the twin dimples above his ass cheeks, his strong shoulders, the heaven I know will envelop me when I’m inside him.

“I can’t wait,” I mutter, standing long enough to undo my pants and let them fall to the floor. My hard cock juts up proudly, and when I stroke myself, I see Henry lick his lips.

On my way back to the bed, I grab the lube and a condom. Slicking up my fingers, I make my way behind him, kissing my way down his spine as I start to prep him. He whines shamelessly as I work to get him loose. While an evil part of my brain wonders how many times he’s done this with someone else—including, cringe, my own son—I squish that thought like a spider.

Nope.

I’m here with him now, and this is what we’re doing. While I open him up, I murmur to him: how gorgeous he is and how lucky I am to be with him. How much I need to be inside him and how good he feels.

Another finger, and another, until he hisses, “Goddammit, Keane, fuck me already.”

I chuckle, then spank his ass. “Be a good boy,” I mock scold.

He gives me a bratty sigh—I never knew Henry had that in him, or how endearing I’d find it—and I suit up with the condom. Positioning myself behind him, I begin to press into his hole, and the tight grip has my eyes rolling back in my head.

“Henry,” I whisper. “Oh, God. You feel so. Fucking. Good.”

Steadily I go, little by little, inch by inch, until his body lets me in and my pelvis is pressed flush against his cute ass.

I may die from the pleasure.

He’s moaning, and I’m listening to make sure the sounds indicate pleasure and not pain—or at least not the bad kind of pain. Fullness and pressure and that just-too-much feeling, fine. But actual pain, no.

“You good?” I whisper when he settles a little bit, and he bites his lip and nods.

“So good. Please fuck my ass.”

Again, I chuckle. “Well, since you’re so polite.” I pull out and thrust in, starting a slow rocking that I didn’t think I was capable of, since what I really want to do is rut into him until he screams.

But I’m taking it slow, and it’s killing me in the best way possible. As I mount him, my cock spearing him and then withdrawing again and again, I find myself in a mindless state of bliss. Where I’m focusing on his body, on my own. On his pleasure, on mine. And on the connection. Oh, the connection with him, and it’s not just physical.

I’m watching the way his shoulders flex and his biceps bulge. How his hair is getting messier and messier, his skin more flushed.

“You’re the most tempting fucking thing,” I mutter. “I can’t believe I get to have you.”

“You do have me. You can always have me. Always,” Henry says, and it feels like he means more than sex.

In response, I haul him up so we’re both on our knees and lean around to kiss him savagely. Our tongues tangle as I continue to move in and out of his ass, and when we break apart, I think: Mine .

He’s mine.

I fuck into him, and he cries out, then starts stroking his cock.

“Yeah, baby. Get yourself ready. I want you to spill again. I want you to come,” I say.

Henry nods seriously, which is adorable. Like he wants to be good for me.

“So fucking cute,” I mutter. “You getting close?” Because I know I am.

“Yeah,” he grits out. “Oh, God. Please. Yes. Please keep fucking me. Please.”

I do.

I bounce him on my cock, and he’s so light-limbed that I can pretty much have my way with him. That thought makes me groan even more, and the pressure around my cock is almost too much.

Changing the angle of my thrusts, I find the spot that makes him whimper anew, and then I rail him. “You’re fucking mine,” I growl. “Mine.”

“Yours,” he whispers. “I’m yours.”

And I can see the moment he starts flying, his orgasm taking over. He shakes and shudders, the come he has left spurting over his hand.

I thrust into him deep, hard, and stay there, pulsing as I orgasm, emptying into him, feeling the full release: body, brain, spirit.

I keep rocking into him slowly as I come down from the high, and I eventually pull out of him with a pop.

“Stay there,” I order, kissing his shoulder, and I hop off the bed to deal with the condom. When I return with a washcloth, I see that he hasn’t moved—he’s still on his knees—and something even stronger moves in my heart.

His obedience is utterly adorable.

He’s utterly adorable.

I want him to stay with me. I want him in my bed. I want him in my life.

I know this is only our first date, and I don’t fucking care. He’s mine, and I’m keeping him.

After I clean him up, we lie under the covers, side by side. I draw him to my chest, and he cuddles into me. For a moment, I’m worried about whether I did okay. I haven’t had performance anxiety in a long time, but I also haven’t had sex in a while, and I’m hoping I didn’t fuck this up.

“You good?” I murmur, needing to know more than that. Needing to know if what I’m feeling for him is reciprocated. If we have a chance together. If we can navigate the obstacles between us and deal with, oh God, my son.

Henry moves to straddle me, still naked, and his smile is so beautiful. “Yes. So much yes.”

“And would you want to do it again?”

He grins. “Again, yes. So much yes.”

“Good,” I say, and tug him down for a deep kiss.