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I sucked a sharp breath in through my nose and tensed.

Kevin licked over my mouth and used the hand on my jaw to ease me upright. He turned me and pinned me with my back to the cabinets. “Open up,” he murmured against my lips, and like the absolute fool I was, I did. He made a dark, satisfied sound and slid his tongue in and along mine.

It went straight to my dick. My hips bucked into his and my hands flew to his waist. I gripped, hard. He made another of those sounds—less satisfied and more hungry now—and flexed into me subtly, even as he lifted my chin higher and kissed me deeper.

Good god he was good at this.

His touch was pure confidence, and he used his extra height and muscle to keep me right where he wanted me as his tongue dominated mine. He brought up his other hand to hold my face and he worked my mouth with the same focused concentration I’d seen him use at the gym. His lips were soft and plush, but for all that, not remotely gentle. He was all demand.

He pulled back a little, leaving me open-mouthed and panting, and then he drove back in and did something horrifyingly, arousingly flexible with his tongue, flickering it before drawing mine into his mouth and sucking on it.

My eyes flew open and locked onto his.

He was watching me.

I blinked. He didn’t.

I wasn’t what you’d call experienced when it came to kissing—or anything else—but I wasn’t entirely clueless.

I’d kissed a guy. Two guys, in fact.

I watched porn on occasion. I’d seen people canoodling in my coffee shop.

I’d seen Adam canoodling with a flustered Ray in my coffee shop on more occasions than I liked to think of, and thrown them out for it at least four times.

My general sense of things was that people kept their eyes closed, didn’t they? While kissing? What did it mean that Kevin—oh. Ohhhh .

He bit my lip softly once, then again, then tilted my head to the other side, pressed closer and arched me over the counter before doing it again, except this time after he’d bitten it, he sucked on it.

My eyes fell closed and I panted loudly.

Really loudly.

Weirdly loudly—no. That wasn’t me. It wasn’t Kevin, either. It was accompanied by a very familiar thud-thud-thud of a tail on my kitchen floor.

“Wait.” I twisted my head away, gasping when Kevin’s fingers tightened before he released me. I shoved my way upright.

Phil had come back inside and stuffed himself right up beside us. As soon as he had the attention he’d been seeking, he nudged my leg with his big head. He’d had his supper, he’d been out in the garden and attended to business like a good boy, and now he wanted his treat. “Phil,” I said, and internally winced at how feeble my voice sounded. Breathless and soft . “Give us a minute.”

No. Phil wanted his treat.

The moment was well and truly broken. I slid out from between Kevin and the counter, and— “Mmm.” Kevin caught me, put me back against the counter, and kissed me again. “Wait. Kevin.”

His hold tightened but he lifted his head and stared down at me.

“I…Phil…”

He raised a brow.

“Treat,” I said. “Phil wants his treat.”

“Where do you keep his treats?”

“Uh. Same cupboard as the kibble?”

Kevin shoved himself off me, strode over to where he’d watched me putting the kibble away earlier, and dropped into a crouch. He opened the cupboard, rummaged around, and came out with one of Phil’s chew sticks.

He held it up questioningly.

Phil had accompanied him on his mission, and he immediately deep-throated the thing the second Kevin had taken it out of the cupboard. He bustled off.

Kevin stood and looked at me from across the room.

I put my hands to my hot cheeks.

He kept looking at me as he washed and dried his hands at the sink, then stalked back to me.

He didn’t stop coming until he was leaning against me again, gripping the counter either side of my hips.

“Your latte will go cold,” I said, reaching for the cup. I hooked the handle with a forefinger and dragged it closer. “It’s the perfect drinking temperature. Here.” I passed it to him.

He took it off me, set it down without drinking it, and kissed me again.

Who ever would have guessed that sweet, gentle Kevin Wallis, who I’d always assumed would be into nothing other than missionary-style heterosexual sex, had it in him to push a man up against his own kitchen counter, hold him there, and kiss the wits right out of him?

He was so damn confident at it, was the thing. He angled me just how he wanted me and rolled his tongue lazily into my mouth, hot and assured, like he had all night to do it. Like we could stand here for hours, kissing and groping.

Oh.

We were groping now?

“Ohhhhh,” I sighed when he palmed the front of my trousers. My hips curled forwards without permission, seeking more friction.

Kevin’s hot, damp lips curved in a smile and he gave a filthy-sounding grunt of pleasure as he did it again. He stroked his tongue over mine and at the same time stroked the length of my extremely hard dick. He pressed into it, and rubbed his fingers over the head.

Sensation arced through me, sharp and riding the edge of being unpleasant. I’d been chastely gripping his burly shoulders, too taken up with what he was doing to my mouth to even think about touching him, but at that, I swung an arm down and smacked his hand sharply.

He growled, pushing into me.

“Kevin,” I panted, managing to tear my mouth away.

“Yeah,” he said. “Lemme touch you.”

“What? Why ? I don’t—oh f-fuck. Mmmmm. Kevin.”

“Yeah? You like it when I do that? You’ve got such pretty lips. Want to suck on them all night.”

The cognitive dissonance of having Kevin Wallis telling me he wanted to suck on any of my body parts cannot be overstated.

“Let me touch you, Charlie. Tell me I can, all right? I want to. Can I?” The hand I’d smacked away from my dick out of pure surprise was flexing on my thigh. He was waiting for permission.

I twisted towards him and moaned into his mouth.

He made one of his rough sounds back at me, and dragged his teeth over my bottom lip, but he didn’t touch me.

“Tell me I can, Charlie,” he whispered. “You gotta tell me.”

I blinked my eyes open and looked directly into his.

That was a mistake.

His cheeks were dark, his eyes were focused and intense and he looked like nothing would get in his way.

Except it would. He was waiting for permission, which meant I had to ask for it.

He spread his fingers wide, holding my gaze, and slowly rubbed his thumb up and down. Not touching my aching dick. Juuuust to the side of it.

The muscles in my stomach went weak then tensed, then weak again. I clutched at him, my hands opening and closing on his sides.

“I think you really want me to,” he said, shifting restlessly between my legs. “And I really want to do it. Let me, Charlie. I want your cock in my hand. Tell me I can have it.”

Was this normal, this kind of talk? I had a very limited dataset to compare it to. It could be positively pedestrian when it came to sex. This could be nothing more than the entirely vanilla expression of desire that I’d always imagined for Kevin.

Sure as shit didn’t feel vanilla, though.

If I was any more turned on by this man, I was going to orgasm on the spot, and that would about finish me off.

“Yes,” I choked. “Please.”

He didn’t grab at me, even though the tight, intense look on his face said he was at his limit. He slid his hand slowly over my thigh to where my erection was getting strangled by my slim-fit black trousers. Too slowly. I couldn’t help pushing into it.

He cupped his big hand over my groin again. There was something bewilderingly graceful about the way he did it. Sensual. I’d dropped my chin and was staring down between us, barely able to process what I was seeing. Not much—we were pressed tightly together. He was making it difficult for himself by leaning his full weight against me, really having to squeeeeeeze his hand between our bodies. The sight of the flexing tendons in his strong wrist was still a lot.

He tipped my chin up and kissed me again. I puffed a startled breath through my nose when I felt his fingers working at my waistband.

He stilled. “Yeah?” he said.

“Yes.”

He slipped my button loose, had my zipper down and his hand in my trousers before I could even process it.

“Uhn,” he said, the sound punched out of him. “Oh, Charlie.”

My knees wobbled as he took hold of me in a confident grip and just held me. He rubbed his thumb over the damp head and I jerked against him with a whine.

“Oh,” he said again. “You feel amazing.”

I did?

“Yeah,” he said, and gave me a single long, firm pull. “This is nice. Fuck, it’s nice. Knew it would be.”

He nudged my chin to one side and put his mouth on my neck.

I pushed my hips greedily into his hand. His teeth scraped over my skin, and I jumped when he nipped me.

“Kevin,” I said.

“Yeah.” He stroked me again—another long, firm pull. This time he added a twist of his palm over the head.

I was already holding onto him for dear life but at that bright burst of sensation, I positively clawed at him.

“I’ve thought about this a lot, you know,” he said. His words were casual but his voice was dark. If it was coming from anyone other than Kevin, I’d say that his tone was almost threatening.

“W-what?”

“Pushing you up against something. Getting my hand on your cock.”

“You have? A lot? Since when? Shit .” He squeezed me in a ripple of pressure from base to tip. My legs nearly went out from under me. Only the fact he had a thigh between mine and had me pinned against the cabinets kept me upright.

He made a rumbling, considering sound. “A while. Every morning you stand on the other side of your counter and watch me while I choose my pastries. And when I’m staring at the croissants, I’m not thinking about pastries at all. What I’m really thinking about is you.” He gripped me firmly and smoothed his thumb back and forth under the head of my dick. “Tomorrow, Charlie, I’m gonna come into your coffee shop and do what I always do. Only tomorrow, you’re going to know the whole time that I’m thinking about this. About you. About doing this to you.” He bit my neck, then sucked at it hard.

“Ah! No!”

He immediately backed off, but not all the way—he lapped softly over the stinging patch of skin. “No?” he murmured.

“No marks.”

He kissed the spot and slid his mouth lower. “None at all?”

“No. It’s…I’m…it’s private. I don’t like people looking at me.”

Serving coffee all day long with a throbbing love bite on my neck would get a whole lot of attention from the residents of Chipping Fairford.

“What if I put one where no one else can see?” He scraped his teeth lower, then hunched down and bit my collarbone. “Can I do that? I really want to.”

I squeaked and threaded my fingers through his hair, then fisted it and pulled him up. “No.” Because then I’d keep looking at it all day long.

He stared at me, his brown eyes dark with wide, shining pupils. “Not today, then.” He gave me another of those slow, firm pulls, and this time he was staring right into my face as he did it.

It all felt suddenly, overwhelmingly intimate. I closed my eyes and turned my head away.

Kevin caught my jaw and turned me back at once. He smiled.

And that was his smile. Kevin’s smile. The sweet, happy one he gave me every morning. And now that we were—somehow—here, I could do to him what I’d wanted to do for a long time when he smiled at me like that. I reached up to cup his face and gazed at him for a moment before leaning in and dropping a chaste kiss on his lips.

He blinked and his smile widened. “Knew you’d be like this,” he said. “You’re so soft and sweet, Charlie.” He looked at me seriously. “I want to eat you.”

What did that mean?

Also, me? Soft? Sweet? Why did he keep saying that I was sweet? He was the—actually, no, he had apparently been possessed by a sex demon. Sex Kevin wasn’t soft or sweet. He was confident and pushy and?—

“C’mere.” He shoved an arm between me and the cabinets, hooked me away, and had me on the floor so quickly I got vertigo.

“What—”

“I’ve thought about you so much,” he said. “So much, Charlie, swear to god.” He straddled my thighs and worked his cargo trousers open. “I’ve been adding extra workouts at the gym to try and stop thinking about you so much.” He grinned. “Didn’t work. Charlie .” He shoved his trousers down and fisted his own cock. He lifted his chin when he saw me staring at it, open-mouthed, and pumped it a couple of times. Showing off for me.

I grabbed at his thighs.

“Watched so much porn, you don’t even know. Like, gay porn. Not the straight stuff. I know how to do that. I’m great at that. Now I know how to do this. In theory, anyway. Already told you I’m a kinaesthetic learner. I’ll get better when I’ve had some hands-on experience.” He crawled over me, braced his hands either side of my head and went from a high-plank position to a low-plank position to lying fully on me.

I grunted at his weight. “Okay,” I wheezed, “but I have to ask. What kind of porn? Because throwing me down on my kitchen floor is—oh fuck .”

He flexed into me.

I scrabbled at his shirt, dragging it up to his armpits to get at bare skin. I pulled his sturdy, muscled body fully against mine. “It’s— hhnnn .”

He flexed against me again. He stared down at me and continued to work his hips. “You. Feel. Amazing. Oh my god. I want to do this all the time.” He tipped onto one elbow, stuffed a hand between us, and grabbed my dick again. He shuffled about and tried to get his own into his grip as well but couldn’t manage it. He growled with frustration. “Hang on. I want to wank us off together. Should we be standing for that? Yeah. All right. Back up we go.”

He rolled off me, hauled me up and set me on my feet as quickly as he’d taken me down to the floor, shoved me up against the kitchen table—we’d somehow migrated to the centre of the room—and notched himself between my legs again, having slapped my thigh demandingly a couple of times to get me to spread them.

He held the edge of the table either side of me and hunched experimentally. My hands came down onto his round, pumping arse with a loud smacking sound and my head fell forwards onto his shoulder.

He gave one of those filthy grunts. “This is good. I like this. Perhaps I should just hump you,” he said consideringly. For a moment, I thought he’d put me back on the floor and I began to get hysterical at the idea, but he shook his head and said, “Next time. Can’t wait to see you come. And I want to touch you.”

He drew back, grabbed his cock, grabbed mine, held them together, and jerked.

“Oh,” he said. “Holy shit.” His fingers tightened around us and he squeezed as he drew his hips back then fucked forwards in a hard pump. “Uh-oh.” He did it again.

“What?” I said. “ What ?”

Kevin’s cock was like Kevin: sturdy. I wasn’t a size guy. I didn’t care if he was longer than me or shorter, and right now he was in motion and it was difficult to see how big he was hard, but I could tell that it was thick and hot and lovely like the rest of him, he knew how to work it, and the ridge of his head kept catching mine as he thrust through his fist.

“This is too good. ‘M gonna come.” His thrusts were slow and powerful. The table behind me jumped each time he banged me into it.

“Yes,“ I said. “Great. Do that.”

I wanted to see it. I wanted to see what he looked like when he did it.

I had a suspicion it wasn’t going to be a simple ahhhhh as he blew, followed by a couple of quiet minutes to catch his breath.

I had a suspicion it was going to involve yelling and some very vigorous physical movements—extra-hard thrusting, or a bit of writhing, who knew?—and I was ready for it.

I was so, so ready.

One more thrust, maybe two, and he’d be there.

I’d be there.

We’d be there together.

God, yeah. One more?—

“No,” he said. “Not yet.”

“ Don’t you dare edge me, Kevin Wallis. ”

He froze and stared at me in astonishment before he burst into giggles.

Actual giggles.

The kind where he said, “Hee hee.”

That took the sexy down a considerable few notches. I set my hands on his chest and pushed. My entire groin was throbbing, I wanted my orgasm now, and Kevin was saying hee hee.

He grinned at me.

Crossly, I leaned in and bit at his smiling mouth. “Get on with it,” I told him. “Right now.”

A hand came up to grip the back of my head and hold my lips to his. “No,” he said. “I’m enjoying myself. I want to make this last forever.”

“I have work in the morning, and so do you.” I gave him my best sultry look and hitched my hips into his. “Forever isn’t an option.”

“Mmm,” he said. “That’s nice. Do that again.” He wrapped his hands around my hips, adjusted his stance so our dicks were side by side, and looked down expectantly.

I did it again.

He breathed out hard, lids lowering as he watched. “Again, Charlie,” he whispered.

Fine. If he wasn’t going to get on with it, then I would.

I rolled my hips into his a few times, and he began to lazily move back, still holding me. It didn’t take long before he got bossy and controlled my movements.

And then I made the mistake of looking over his shoulder.

Dusk was falling and the overhead kitchen light was on, turning the large window over the sink—which was directly in front of me—into a reflective surface.

And I saw what Kevin was doing to me.

I met my own wide, startled eyes for a split second before my attention dropped to the man moving against me.

His trousers were shoved down to his knees, I’d dragged his t-shirt up his broad back in double fistfuls, and there it was: Kevin’s arse, round and muscular, catching the light every time he lazily pumped against me, tightening and showcasing deep side dimples before pushing out and doing it again, then again, then again.

Utterly hypnotised, I released his t-shirt and slid my hands down his sides and around to his buttocks. They felt even better than they looked. Firm. Hot. Shifting under my palms.

Still, I was blocking my own view. I slipped my hands lower.

It took a moment for me to notice that Kevin had twisted his neck to look behind him, and was watching me watch him.

“Pervert,” he said.

My cheeks scorched with heat.

“Like that, do you? Check this out.” He clenched and released each cheek individually. “I can do it with my tits, too.”

My fingers dug in.

“Why don’t you hold on for the ride,” he said, “and enjoy the show while I do all the work?”

Words were beyond me. I nodded frantically.

“Yeah?” he said, smiling at me. “You’re a lot of fun, Charlie. I was going to tenderly stroke you off and be romantic about it, but this is great .”

No one had ever accused me of being fun in my whole life.

I hitched my hips pleadingly into his, gasping as my sensitised shaft rubbed over his tight abs.

“Okay,” he said, and dropped a sweet kiss on my lips. “I’m gonna hold onto the table or we’ll be walking it across the room. Ready?”

“Yes, oh my god, Kevin, please just—ohhhh.”

He gripped the table, widened his stance and wiggled his hips from side to side, notching us tightly together, and he was off.

Air was driven out of me with each shove of his body into mine. My arms went up and around his waist, then to his shoulders.

My mouth dropped open, letting out ridiculous little whines and wet gasps. He wasn’t just slamming into me, or rabbiting away, either of which would have worked fine . No, he was slowly, thoroughly, pulsing into me. Every now and then, he bent his knees to thrust up, or pressed in and held to circle his hips a few times.

And I saw everything.

His arse, his back muscles contracting, the tendons in his strong forearms flickering, his shoulders bunching.

I was lost in the sensation, drowning in the visuals, and then Kevin took hold of my chin, lifted my mouth to his and said, “Come on, Charlie,” before he kissed me softly.

I sobbed into the kiss and my stomach clenched brutally as I came all over him.

He kissed me through it, so tender and gentle as I cried out that tears welled in the corners of my eyes.

And then he came all over me, and I was right.

It wasn’t a gentle ahhhhh . There was a lot of noise and writhing.

There was a lot of everything.

It was perfect.