Page 61 of Want Me
Eric let off the gas, turning his head fully in my direction and studying me as he licked his lips. That intensity was there full force, and it made my heart corkscrew in my chest as it beat rapid-fire.
“What’re you doing?” I asked when he slowed the car to a stop on the shoulder, but he didn’t answer me, just unclipped his seat belt and leaned across the seat, one hand rising to my throat. The heat of his palm, the soft pressure as he squeezed. I kept waiting to feel his hand on my thigh or my cock, but there was only the mellow warmth of his touch to my neck as he drew in close. “What do you think? Does it feel different?”
I gave a tiny shake of my head as Eric’s other hand found my right, fingers slotting between mine before he lifted it to press against the glass of the passenger window. I gripped the collar of his shirt, trying to yank him closer, but the console gave him the leverage he needed to deny me. My answer was no. My answer was that it felt just as fucking good. Maybe better now that there was an unfurling sense of possibility in me, this idea of togetherness not counted in just singular encounters, but in days and weeks and months to come. I didn’t know how to transmit the feeling in my chest into succinct phrasing, though.
“Good,” he murmured, running his nose along my jaw and nipping my earlobe, then the skin of my neck, still tender from the night before. I shivered at the hot sting and the light trace of his tongue. “I want you just as much as yesterday and days before. Nothing has changed for me. If anything, it’s intensified.”
I stretched my neck, hoping for more, but Eric brushed a kiss over my lips and dropped back into his seat. When I groaned, he laughed.
“You’re such a fucking tease.”
“That part’s not changing either.” He gave me an unrepentant smirk. “And let me point out that you do plenty of it yourself.”
“Defensive tactics,” I grumbled, adjusting myself as he put the car into gear again.
“Uh-huh.”
We drove around a while longer, talking aimlessly, sharing the beer I’d finally opened and held in my lap.
Just before we pulled onto the main thoroughfare that led back in the direction our house, Eric slanted another look at me. “You’ve probably been in more actual normal…” He paused and backed up. “Traditionalrelationships than I have, so you can tell me if I’m wrong or off base, but nothing has to change that we don’t want to change, know what I mean? You don’t have to suddenly parade around calling me your boyfriend with a capitalBor anything.”
“You don’t want me to? Are you ashamed of me?”
His brows shot up. “What? No? If anything…no. I’m definitely not ashamed of you.”
I broke into a laugh, and he flipped me off. “Idiot.” He focused on the road, then glanced over at me again. “I just mean that we can make our own rules, do what feels good to us.”
I was itching to make some other stupid quip, but the sincerity and concern in his expression stopped me. I picked at the tab on my beer can, eyeing him, thinking about how fucking good he’d been to me—forme—and I was off and running into that emotional minefield that always had me mentally hot stepping because I was by no stretch of the imagination romantic, even though I was definitely a fool for this man. It was the strangest realization how much I liked feeling taken care of by him. In ways both as blunt as him telling me to get on my knees and suck his cock because he knew I fucking loved that shit, and as subtle as the way he glanced over me as we drove, like he was looking for some visual gauge of my headspace. In every other one of my relationships, I’d seemed to naturally fall into the protective role, the dominant force, and the shield. And there was some of that present with Eric, too, because it wasn’t as if I felt like I was weak with him. It was actually the opposite.
“You’re glaring again.”
“With affection. Or something.”
“Uh-huh.” He laughed and reached over, dropping his hand on the nape of my neck and giving it a little squeeze. No clue why that always felt so reassuring to me, but it was clear he’d picked up on that, too, and had weaponized it in the best way possible. I sank back against the seat and let my eyes drift shut for a second, the steady hum of the road beneath us lulling me. “If I tried to say something, it’d come out cheesy. And I’m not much for cheesy.”
“I know.” And the way he said it and looked at me afterward let me know he was talking about more than just me not wanting to be cheesy. The corners of his mouth tipped up. I think I’d known it before, but I definitely knew then it was an expression I’d be seeing on him for a long time coming. There’d be others, yeah. There’d be fights, and disappointments, and bad fucking moods, but there’d be that grin, and the smirk I loved, the way his mouth curved just before he said my name.
“You were looking at apartment complexes earlier. When I came in.” I’d closed my eyes again, and there were a couple of beats of silence that he didn’t rush to fill in. The images I’d glimpsed on his computer had registered belatedly along the drive, the neat lines of buildings scrolling over his screen. “I’m game.”
I heard him shift in the seat, imagined his expression as amusement.
“You’re assuming I wanted a roommate.” He said it so neutrally that I opened my eyes. He was focused on the road, but that half-smile was there working its way toward being a smirk.
“I’m not assuming shit. That’s all fact.”
He chuffed out a soft laugh and hummed something noncommittal as I straightened in the seat and told him, “Take the next right.” He eyed me curiously as he turned onto the road that led up to the quarry. “Got a second wind,” I explained.
* * *
The windowsof Eric’s SUV were completely fogged up. Shit, we might as well have been in a sauna for how fucking damp and sweaty we were. Every breath I took felt like I was sucking it through a wet cotton ball. Eric’s teeth were pinned in my shoulder, my arms stretched over the headrests of the back seat—which we definitely should’ve put down—and Eric was tearing me the fuck up, storming my body with gale force pleasure. The sound of our grunts and groans filled the cabin, bouncing off the strain of our bodies moving together and the raspy collision of our breaths. He hammered at my prostate in hard, steady strokes that forced me to tighten my slippery hold of the headrests.
My hole stretched around his thick cock, and he rasped out a curse as I clenched the muscle intentionally, just to hear what it’d do to him. My entire body felt like it was glowing radioactive, enough electricity coursing through it to power a small city, and the only reason I hadn’t come yet was that the friction from the leather seat my dick was mashed against had morphed from erotic encounter with a new texture to too fucking much with the amount of precome leaking from my tip.
I shifted my hips to ease the pressure and turned my head, seeking Eric’s mouth. His fingers slipped from between my lips and dragged a wet trail across my chin and jaw before he cupped my face and deepened his angle, giving me a sloppy kiss that bordered on savage, his tongue thrusting against mine and his teeth gnashing at my skin. Just the way I liked it.
“So fucking greedy for me,” Eric rasped in my ear, and I let out another breathless, lung-squeezing moan that was all I could manage. It meantyes. Yes, I was a total fucking glutton for him. His dick, his hands, his tongue, the lewd observations about how tight I was, how hot, how much he loved hammering me into slack-jawed, mind-bending ecstasy. Yes, totally, shamelessly wanton. And I loved it, lived for these moments when our bodies connected so intensely and completely that even our minds felt intertwined. In and out, give and take, inhale and exhale.
The leather seat was gonna be a problem, though.