Page 11 of Wilde Shorts

“Don’t hurt me,” I croaked against his mouth.

Iggy pulled away, suddenly worried he was physically harming me. It took only a glance at my face before he realized what I’d meant.

“Hurting you would be like cutting out my own fucking heart, Jon. Don’t you know how much I love you? How I want to spend my life with you? How I want to make you happy?”

The words washed over me then, clearing away the last of my fear. I wanted him as much as he seemed to want me. So what the hell was I waiting for?

I lurched awkwardly toward him, intent on another searing kiss. The noise he let out as our lips came together again was feral, like an animal finally released from a cage.

His body was a coiled spring, but his touch was tender and reverent. The way his thumbs skimmed my jaw, his nose brushed my cheek, his knee gently nudged my legs apart so he could get closer.

The cold wood of the door against my back had turned warm. The dim lighting was soft and intimate. The slight movement under our feet felt exotic and a little wild. We were somewhere in the sub-Saharan night, alone together on the brink of a new adventure.

Our best adventure.

As his hands moved, sliding my jacket off my shoulders, I realized I was the happiest I’d ever been. Finally, we were here together without the job between us. We could be equals. Partners.

Lovers.

For once, I pulled off his jacket without a single care for where it ended up. I yanked his shirt out of his trousers and shoved my hands underneath, relishing in the feel of his hot skin.

“Want you so much,” I admitted into the side of his face.

“Thank fuck,” he said on a laughing exhale. “I’m scared to death of disappointing you.”

“The infamous playboy is afraid of letting me down in the sack?” I teased.

“I’ve never made love before.”

Iggy had the ability to stop my breath. I stared at him while my brain slotted so many details into place. The careless attitude toward sex. The lack of serious relationships. The many times he’d only half-teased about wanting to be with me.

I’d never taken it seriously.

Until now.

“I love you,” I said, surprising myself as much as I’d surprised him. But it was the raw truth, and I no longer wanted to deny it, denyhim. “And I’m sorry I didn’t believe you at first. I wanted it too badly to believe it could be real.”

Iggy’s eyes filled with tears that didn’t spill. “I’ve waited my whole life to hear those words from you,” he whispered.

I moved him toward the bed and lowered him onto the crisp, white bedding before taking my time removing every single piece of his clothing.

I’d done this for him a million times, but this time was so different. Every touch held twenty years of unspoken affection and a lifetime of love to come.

When he was finally fully naked, I began undressing myself slowly so I could watch the heat smolder in his eyes.

He was hard, cock jutting up thick and long. I could finally take the time to stare, to imagine the feel of it inside me… my mouth, my throat, my ass. I wanted him everywhere.

“Come here,” he begged. His cheeks and neck were as red as his cock, and his eyes were undeniably hungry.

After I’d removed the last of my clothing, I crawled onto the bed from the bottom, dropping open-mouthed kisses inside his ankle, his knee, his thigh.

When I was close enough for Iggy’s hands to reach into my hair, he took great delight in messing it up. “I’ve fantasized about holding your hair and choking you with my cock,” he said in a voice rough with desire. “Messing up your perfectly styled hair and coming all over your fucking face.”

To punish him for putting that hot image in my head, I nosed his sac before running the flat of my tongue up his shaft.

“Fucking fuck, Banks.Fuck.”

I took the head of his cock in my mouth and held it there, inhaling the musky scent of him and tasting the salty warmth of his precum.