Page 23 of The Question of Us (Fisher & Church #2)

I ran my nose up the side of his face and whispered frostily, “Fuck every single man who’s ever made you feel like that.

They didn’t deserve a second of your attention.

You’re worth everything, sweetheart. Every damn thing.

And if those losers couldn’t see that, then that’s their loss.

I, for one, am glad of their ignorance because it means I get to have you instead. ”

Mads went still in my arms, like his every cell was attuned to my words, and I decided then and there to make it my mission to override those harping voices in his head.

He leaned back and looked at me quizzically. “Where did that come from?”

I shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. “Sorry if I spoke out of place. I just... I don’t know.

I hate hearing you repeat that crap like it has any validity, even as a joke.

They were wrong, Mads.” I held his face in my hands.

“Every one of them was wrong. They were wrong then and they’re wrong now.

They didn’t see you like I do. They didn’t see how fucking special you are.

How there’s no one quite like you. And I’m going to keep reminding you of that until you stop repeating that shit like it has some kind of power over you. It’s a lie, Mads. Nothing but a lie.”

Mads’ eyes brimmed, his breathing sharp and shallow. He blinked furiously, but a few tears escaped, regardless. “Jesus, Nick.” He squeezed his eyes shut then opened them again. “You can’t just say stuff like that. I don’t... you have to... I can’t?—”

I kissed him to shut him up. Long and slow and achingly sweet.

I slid a hand around the back of his neck, and he groaned into my open mouth, his tongue rolling against mine in a sinuous dance that cranked my shit as it always did.

He tasted of beer, the tangy hot sauce from those loaded fries, and something distinctly and wonderfully him.

It was everything I craved, and when I’d tasted my fill, I rested our foreheads together and whispered, “I will never stop telling you how great you are.” I brushed his hair back from his face and met his gaze. “So, you better get used to it.”

A tiny notch formed between his brows, quickly replaced by the biggest smile I’d seen in a long while. He bit his lip and fisted my shirt, coyly drawing my lips to his as he whispered, “You’re wearing too many clothes, Mister Fisher. I think we should rectify that.”

He didn’t need to convince me except—“You first, Mister Church.” I started on his clothes before he could protest, making sure to take my time—jeans, briefs, shirt—every item carefully unwrapped from his body and dropped to the floor until he stood naked before me.

“You are so damn beautiful.” I lifted his hand into the air, gesturing for him to do a twirl.

His cheeks flushed red and he grinned. “You’re an idiot.

” But he did the twirl anyway and I salivated at the sight of his hard cock bobbing free.

When he was done, I gathered him into my arms and kissed him thoroughly, the sensual feel of his bare skin under my hands and against my still clothed body, ridiculously hot.

Way too soon, Mads pushed me away. “My turn, I believe.” His eyes blazed, all trace of self-consciousness gone. Just like that, he morphed into the confident bossy fucker with exhibitionist tendencies I’d met in the shower just days before. The one who was about to blow my mind.

When he’d pulled my shirt over my head, I leaned in and ran my tongue up the side of his face. He shot me an amused look.

“What?” I eyed him hungrily. “You taste too damn good to wait.”

“Just behave yourself.” He smacked my hand away from my jeans so he could finish depositing both them and my briefs onto the floor, which left us both naked. But when I leaned in to kiss him, he wagged a finger between us.

“Last warning.” He narrowed his eyes.

“Or what?” I grabbed his hand and brought those tempting fingers to my lips. “You gonna punish me, mister book conservator? You gonna bind me?” I started sucking on his fingers one at a time. “Maybe you’ll press me between those stiff boards you have?”

Mads snorted. “That’s not even remotely sexy.” But his widening pupils told another story.

I stepped closer and his breath quickened.

“Maybe you’ll re-punch my hole. Make it ready for that fat cock of yours.

” I reached between us and wrapped my hand around his dick, giving it a rough tug that elicited a rumbling growl from the depths of his throat.

“I’ll need a bit of stretching after all this time. ”

He shivered; his eyes locked on mine.

I slid my lips next to his ear. “Or maybe you’ll tie me in leather and tape while you vacuum my gutter and adjust my end notes.” I pulled back and looked him in the eye. “One can only hope.”

“Fuck me,” he breathed, the words shaky, like a prayer.

I smiled and shook my head. “No. Not tonight, baby.” I pushed him backwards onto the bed and crawled up his body until I covered him. “Tonight, you’re gonna fuck me.”

His legs fell apart and I slipped between them. He grinned up at me. “You’ve been Googling, haven’t you?”

“Maybe,” I admitted, popping a kiss on his lips before pulling up to hover just out of reach. “I like to know my quarry.” I let my weight fall through my hips onto his, squeezing our cocks between us.

“Oh, god.” His eyes rolled back in his head.

“And still sounding like a bossy bottom.” His ankles crossed around my back, forcing me down, his thick cock pressing into my belly, demanding attention.

“Or maybe you’ve changed your mind, cos it sure feels like you’re aiming to fuck me .

” He pulled my head down and thrust his tongue into my ear. In and out. In and out.

“Fuuuck.” Heat rocketed through my balls, and I knew whatever we did, it wasn’t gonna last long. I was too far gone for this man.

Mads arched his back, increasing the friction to almost painful. In response, I slid a hand under his arse to lift his buttocks off the bed, sandwiching our cocks between us.

“Lube,” he gasped, fumbling for the tube and missing it by miles.

I shoved it in his hand, then got to my knees so he could slick us both up. When he was done, Mads dragged me down onto my side so that we were facing each other. He wrapped a hand around both our cocks, then hesitated, his gaze fixed on mine. “You’re sure about this? All of it?”

I nodded. “Absolutely fucking positive.”

He watched me a moment longer, then nodded.

“We stop the second it becomes too much for you, or weird, or whatever. I’m trusting you to tell me.

Nothing is more important than this going the way you want it to.

The way we both want it to. This isn’t a deal breaker, Nick.

It’s just a stepping stone, and there are plenty of other stepping stones if we need to take another route, understood? ”

My heart squeezed because what the fuck did you say to something like that?

The man was gonna kill me. “Understood. Now, can we please get to the fun part?” I drew him close and kissed him with everything I had, hoping he’d feel all the gratitude for his understanding that I couldn’t put into words.

Before we’d even finished the kiss, Mads began to stroke us off and I came so embarrassingly close to emptying my load in the first minute that I had to pull off and bury my face in his shoulder, biting my cheek to keep the pleasure at bay.

The man had skills, practised and perfected over his fifty-five years. He was good. Really good.

“Not your first rodeo, I see,” I ground out. It had been a long, long time since I’d been touched like he was doing. A husband and what felt like a whole lifetime ago.

I managed to somehow stave the orgasm off and get back on an even keel, determined to enjoy Mads’ ministrations for as long as I could.

“You okay there?” he whispered against my hair.

I turned to look at him. “Never better.”

He smiled and let go of my cock to slap my arse. “Good. Now, turn over.”

I blinked.

He slapped me again. “You heard.”

I bit back a smile. “Ohhh, are we getting to the rules part? ’Cos I really, really want to get to the rules part.”

“Turn the fuck over, idiot,” he said in a measured reply, his eyes a cool green in the bright light of the room. “And then don’t move a muscle.”

A bolt of lust shot up my cock at his tone and I immediately rolled onto my stomach, my body jonesing in anticipation.

Two years of grief and regret and walking in place.

Two years of going nowhere; of facing the same questions every damn day; the same aching pain.

Two years of feeling emotionally flayed.

And then this. The sudden relief of having to do nothing except what this man said.

And not just any man. Madigan. Guided toward pleasure while feeling safe in his kind, capable hands.

It was breath-takingly perfect.

He spread my legs and kneeled between them, his fingers trailing a feather-soft line from my shoulders all the way down my spine to my crease.

But he didn’t stop there, his fingertips brushing over my hole, teasing, promising, electrifying as they continued to the back of my balls, dialling the sexy right the fuck up.

Unable to stop myself, I humped the mattress—an act of disobedience that earned me another slap on the arse.

“Bastard,” I grumbled, but I stopped humping.

“Child,” he returned, pressing his lips to the small of my back, before grabbing me by the hips and lifting me up onto my knees. I had barely enough time to register what was happening before he spread me wide and his hot, wet tongue ran behind my balls and over my hole.

“Oh... oh... shit,” I cried out, slamming my fist onto the mattress as he did it again. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He pulled off. “You want me to stop?”

I didn’t need to see his face to know he was grinning, the motherfucker. I looked over my shoulder. “Don’t you dare.”

He gave a smug smile. “Then turn around.”