Page 50 of Resonance
Thump-thump-thumpwent his heart against my palm. It was damn near intoxicating.
Owen ducked his head and brushed his fingers over the back of my hand, the contact light and electrifying. “Fuck, I’m totally lying right now. I didn’t think you needed a hug, really. That’s laughable, probably, but…”
“You gonna turn around?”
“I don’t know. You gonna make me?”
“Not yet.” And then I bent to brush my mouth over his neck. He gasped as I followed the delicate curve from collarbone to earlobe and back down. The cords of his neck tensed and relaxed, soft skin tightening with the motion.
I stepped in closer and pulled him flush against me, feeling his shoulders vibrate with a tremor of pleasure when I caressed his cheek.
Angling his head back, Owen lifted his eyes to mine, the bright green smolder of them magnified by the maple golden fringe of lashes surrounding them. It made the next breath I took feel like I had to drag it in. Goddamn, he was temptation incarnate. We stared at each other, stuck in some kind of silent face-off.
Owen reached, fingers crawling the few inches toward my collar until the tips brushed my skin. I’d never felt such a small amount of contact so keenly as I did then.
I wrapped my hands around his slim hips, and he pressed back with a hushed moan. Behind my fly, my cock strained toward the pressure, and it was all I could do to keep from thrusting crudely against his ass.
Still gripping my collar and arching his neck, Owen met the sweep of my lips so gently I wasn’t even sure it was a kiss so much as an intimation of one, like a strongly worded suggestion. His lower lip caught on mine, dragged up with a flick of his tongue. It was unlike anything else, and I froze, caught between one fantasy and the next. Sensuality didn’t come about for me often. I was more of a work hard, play rough guy, but Owen had it in spades. It mesmerized me.
I kept expecting him to say something, for one of those brushes of lips to precede a rambling tangent. But after a handful of seconds with just that slow, coaxing movement of his mouth over mine, I broke in desperation, parting his lips with my tongue as I clutched his shoulder and deep dived into the kiss.
He let out a mewl of sound that aroused me more than if he’d taken my dick in his hand.
We moved in a slow shuffling dance of desire that seemed to diminish the differences between us: my height, his lithe form, the inches gone until there was perfect harmony in the way he fit against me.
Owen braced one arm on the wall in front of us and when I peeled back for air, drew a ragged breath of his own, hips still canted and rolling back against mine, sending pleasure quavering through me on a steady drip.
I’d kissed his lips red and swollen, and the area around pinked with the friction of my stubble. There was a wantonness in his eyes that gave them a feverish sheen, made them a wide abyss of black pupil.
I wanted him. It was that imperative. That basic.
I wanted to take him to my office, push all the boxes off the ugly old love seat shoved against one wall, and spread him out in front of me like a feast. Take my time with him, savor him, make him arch and twist and buck into me. Make him cry out into my mouth. Fuck him both hard and dirty and slow and sweet.
Owen reached his hand back and under my shirt, knuckles buzzing over my skin like the skim of dragonfly wings.
“You’re goddamn beautiful, you know that?” I murmured into his neck. “We could—”
“Right here.” He gave the slightest obstinate shake of his head, then thumbed his pants open before covering my hand with his and guiding it down the rolling hills and valleys of his abdomen.
He was slick in my palm and so damn hard. His grip on my fingers tightened and relaxed, controlling the friction as I stroked him and he fucked my fist.
His breaths came in rasps, and I locked my other hand around his hip, grinding into his ass and wondering if I was going to jizz in my pants for the first time since middle school.
“Shitfuck…”Owen moaned, letting loose a series of breathy chants that strung me out.
I slid my hand from his hip to cover his mouth. “I’m gonna lose it if you keep on with that.” Beneath my fingers, I glimpsed the curve of his smile, soon erased when I rubbed my thumb over his tip on an upstroke. Owen licked the inside of my knuckles and then nipped them.
The pressure building in my balls was enormous, and I finally uncovered his mouth to unzip my jeans so I could jerk myself.
Owen caught on in an instant, dropping his hand from the wall to bat mine away. We stumbled a step forward until he braced his cheek against the cool painted cinder blocks, licked the palm of his hand, then reached back and gloved my aching dick.
“Cover my mouth again,” he rasped. “I liked that a whole fucking lot.”
So I did, kissing, licking and biting along his neck as he stroked me and guided my hand up and down his shaft in perfectly unified cadence that sped up in tempo and had me panting breathlessly against his skin.
With a cry, Owen squeezed my grip tighter, and the hot burst of his release spilled over my knuckles as he shuddered and clamped down on the tender insides of my fingers.
Groaning in response, I dragged my wet hand over his warm stomach, across his ribs, and then to my own cock, slick grasp closing around his and driving him harder up and down my length. The obscenely tantalizing squish of sound along with the soft, encouraging moans he made as he sucked on my fingers drew my body tighter and tighter until it was too much.