Page 47 of Want Me
“No.” The shake of my head brushed my lips against his. “Here. I want it. I fucking need it.” Like I was some junkie sweating it out in detox.
Eric glanced around us. The forest was quiet, the path overgrown with stiff, dead grass, and the only sound aside from our breaths was the distant whine of heat pumps kicking on. It had to be close to four in the morning, the dead zone of night. He gave me a gauging look, then pushed my hands from his fly, unbuttoned my jeans, and pulled my zipper down as he spit into his fist. His hand around my cock was the purest relief I’d ever felt, and the rough strokes he gave my shaft ignited me so fast and hot I almost choked on something that was dangerously close to a sob. I squeezed my eyes shut, not sure where the hell that’d come from—the alcohol, the sheer relief of giving in to exactly what I’d wanted all day. No, weeks.
The heat of Eric’s palm seared across my cheek, the thrust of his tongue into my mouth like liquid fire, and I lapped it up like an arsonist, addicted to the way he scorched through me. In seconds I was gasping for air and bucking into his grip, about to lose it.
“Gonna come for me or make me work harder for it?” Eric moved away long enough to spit on his palm again, and then he was back, pumping me so relentlessly the friction made my spine twist on the ground like a sidewinder.
“Yes,” I choked out, then shook my head, my eyes flying open as I shoved his hand away. “Wait. No. Not yet.” What if tomorrow he changed his mind? What if it was just the alcohol talking? Damned if I was going to waste this opportunity on a hand job, even a really fucking good one.
Eric laughed softly and my body shuddered in protest, ache backing up in my balls and making them throb. Then came the pressure of his hands on my hips and my shoulders as he yanked me up to sitting position.
We moved in a blur. He tore his coat off, tossed it aside, and helped me with mine when it got stuck around my elbows.
“You got anything?” I mumbled into another feverish kiss. “Don’t care if you don’t. You could always do what you did last time. In the…um…in the shower.”Smooth, Nate.
“Liked that, huh?” Damn that cocksure smile. Eric wrapped me with one arm, the other undoing his pants, then sliding up under my shirt.
“Yeah,” I breathed out into the kiss he pressed to my lips and deepened. Fuck yeah, I’d liked that. Thinking about how fast he’d sucked a nut from me, how he’d bent me over and spread me and spit it out all over my ass, then fucked my own jizz into me made another bolt of lust crackle through my balls.
Eric rumbled in satisfaction as I closed my hand around his cock and squeezed his shaft a couple of times until the growl became a groan. He kept one arm around me while I stroked him, the other playing with me, fucking with me, giving light pinches to my skin, my nipples, followed by kneading caresses that somehow left me with goose bumps that had nothing to do with the cold. It felt amazing. Pressure, a sliver of sting, then release, over and over. The meat of my shoulders, the side of my rib cage. My entire torso became a constellation of pleasure and pain echoing against each other.
He brought his thumb to my mouth, rubbing my slick, swollen lips as he drew back, the other hand wrapping over my fist on his cock and squeezing. Precome dripped from his tip, sliding warm and silky over my fingers. “You want this cock?”
Finally. Familiar territory. I started to nod before correcting myself. “Fuck yes.”
Eric worked open the buttons on my shirt from the bottom up as his lips moved over my neck. “You knocked the shit out of my ribs. Think you bruised my back, too.” He didn’t sound angry. If anything, the words were a sultry purr.
“Hope you aren’t hunting for an apology that you’re not gonna get.”
“Mmm. I’ll settle for some begging.”
I gave him a skeptical grunt that collapsed into a sigh as his fingertips teased my nipples and pecs. His teeth scraped over the hill of my shoulder and sank in to the tender skin near my collarbone until I whimpered, and then he hooked his fingers around my open shirt and pushed it wider, exposing my chest as he shoved me back down. The ground was frigid and scratchy against my lower back where my abandoned coat didn’t blanket the leaves and underbrush, and my shirt had ridden up. It was colder than I remembered. Or maybe I was sobering up. I shivered and Eric ran his arms up and down my biceps briskly before sucking the skin from my sternum to my naval, leaving behind a wet trail that glistened in the moonlight.
“Put your hands behind your head.”
Damp leaves gathered between my ears and biceps as I laced my fingers behind my neck, the air I breathed in taking on an earthy tinge as Eric dragged my jeans to just below my knees, then slid from my legs and pushed my thighs up toward my chest and settled in front of my exposed ass.
After some rummaging around, I glimpsed a flash of silver near Eric’s mouth, and then a cold drizzle oozed down my crack. Trust Eric to always be prepared for some down-and-dirty debauchery. The Boy Scout of fucking on the fly. I let out a quiet breath, waiting to feel his fingers working me open, anticipating the cool sting of invasion.
He ran his fingers up and down the backs of my thighs, and the longer the seconds passed without him pushing inside me, the more exposed I felt. What the fuck was he doing? My goddamn jeans were blocking the view, which I hated. When I craned my neck, I could see his arm moving, stroking himself maybe, and fuck I wished I could see it. I wiggled around restlessly. “Take my jeans off. I feel like I’m hog-tied, and I can’t see shit.”
“That’s gonna add some lag time if someone comes and we have to make a run for it.”
“No one’s coming but us. Hopefully in this century,” I added wryly.
Eric gave me a devilish grin in return. “No.”
“Goddammit.” I reached defiantly for one of my shoes, and the pad of his thumb grazed my hole. The tiny amount of pressure he applied had me sucking in a sharp breath. “You’re stubborn as shit,” I muttered when I could form words again and sank back to the ground, defeated. He buried a chuckle against my kneecap and nipped the thin skin, making it tingle and convincing me there wasn’t a single spot on my body that wasn’t an erogenous zone in his hands.
“Like you’re not.”
“I’m…” The rest trailed off into a wispy gurgle of forgotten protest as Eric smacked his dick against my ass a couple of times before the blunt head of his cock pushed against me. I tensed up and took another breath to relax. “Fuck, I’m all out of practice.” Just his tip felt impossibly huge, and I wriggled a little against the slippery crown as he took hold of my knee and pressed it farther back with a grin.
“About to fix that.” He pushed inside me on a quiet curse, and there it was: the fullness, the burn, the force of him that’d been so elusive in all the days that’d come after the argument with Mark. I sucked in a deep breath of chilly air that felt like a knife down my sternum as my body gave way and made room for him, and Eric wrapped his fingers around my balls with a squeeze. He stopped moving, held me still, his thumb pressed firmly into my taint as a shiver rolled through me, trembling around my shoulders and swaying down my spine. The throb of him inside me went maddeningly quiet. Then I felt his cock twitch.
“Fuck, you’re something else.” His fingertips ran over my lips and dipped just behind to come away wet. He teased the tips up and down my shaft, pleasure dancing in fine points through my balls, trying to become something larger. The series of steady, shallow thrusts that followed felt like puffs of air, and I arched my back, trying desperately to force him deeper.
“Please.” It was shameless and needy, and I didn’t even fucking care because a second later, Eric grabbed the denim pooled below my knees and gathered it up into a thick band of fabric he forced back against me, using it as leverage to thrust into me so hard my lower back came off the ground.