Page 43 of Necessary Time

“Are you looking for a boyfriend?”

It took work to get the question out. I’d never had a girlfriend, let alone a boyfriend, so I worried the question was more daunting for me than it was for him. In a thousand kinds of daydreams where I’d fantasized and hoped for this exact thing, not once had I ever thought my partner would be a man half my age. But now, it was hard to imagine anything but. I wasn’t naive. I knew once Wesley got familiar with me, once he got more comfortable being with men, the fascination would wear off and he’d move for someone closer to his age. Maybe he’d even have a change of heart about things with that friend of his.

“Are you?”

“Don’t follow my lead on this,” I said. “I’m asking what you want.”

“I’ve never had a boyfriend.” He gave a lopsided shrug, then shoved his hair back away from his face, looking up toward me.

“Neither have I.”

“Doyouwant one?”

“I want you,” I promised.

“Just me?” he asked.

“Just you.”

He made a quiet and happy sound, maybe confirmation, but at least agreement, and I was done for. It was impossible to not be absolutely smitten with him, the mercurial way he went from hurt to excited, all of it marked with an undercurrent of arousal that hadn’t quite died down from the night before. Wesley was hopeful and optimistic about life, driven by nothing more than his feelings and his emotions.

I envied him for that.

It seemed like a fearless way to live, and I wished that for myself.

“What does being a boyfriend mean exactly?”

“It means there’s no more twenty-year-old’s that you’re having this conversation with.” He grinned, the flush from his throat working toward the top of his cheeks. “And no one else that you’re doing what we did last night with.”

“Just you.”

He nodded, expression satisfied.

“How often are we doing what we did last night?” I asked, tilting my head to the side.

“As much as your stamina will allow, I think.”

I scoffed, untucking my shirt and tugging it over my head. “Mystamina?”

Wesley grinned, moving backward onto the bed, making room as I encroached on his space.

“I’ve heard rumors.” The insinuation dissolved into a laugh that I silenced with my mouth against his. Wesley moaned, arching up against me and sliding his hands around my shoulders, pulling me closer and opening his mouth to deepen the kiss.

I kneed his legs apart, making a place for myself between them, doing my best to keep my weight off him while pressing our bodies close enough together where it counted that I was still able to feel the way his cock hardened the longer we kissed. I hoped that it would never cease to amaze me, the way his body reacted to me. For me.

“I like this,” he murmured against my lips, spreading his legs wider. I slipped lower, my own erection grinding against his balls and his ass.

“Hmn?” I kissed his lips, the corner of his mouth, the sharp angle of his jaw until I reached his ear.

“You on top of me like this.”

“It’s not too much?” I asked, nipping his earlobe.

“Not even close.”

Wesley dug his nails into the thin skin across my shoulder blades and I grunted, rutting hard against him and sealing our mouths together once again. He whined, letting his lips part wider and his tongue dive deeper. Being on top of him was heady, feeling in control equally so, but if I were to stop and think about it—which I didn’t want to—I preferred to be the one on my back, letting Wesley drive, so to speak.

“Can I touch you?” I murmured against his lips.