Page 45 of Wrap Around (Forbidden Goals #7)

“Or whatever,” he repeats in an exaggerated dude-bro type voice.

Grinning, he drops slow, sweet kisses all around my mouth before finally pulling my bottom lip between his and running his tongue over it in a way that gives me flutters of memory from the night before, of his tongue exploring me while I rested over the edge of the huge jacuzzi tub.

“For the record,” he says, releasing my lip with one more slow suck before kissing down my chin to my chest. “Even if we fuck, no matter how hard, soft, fast, slow, sweet or dirty we do it, no matter how many filthy things you say to me or how loud we make each other scream, it will always be more. It’ll always be love.

Or whatever,” he tacks on, laughing against the soft hairs of my barely existent happy trail.

He gives my cock one long, slow lick while his fingers trail down the seam of my balls to my crease.

His middle finger circles my rim, feeling the remnants of the lube from earlier and sinking the tip of his finger just barely inside me.

He caresses me slowly, softly, all while looking in my eyes.

I suddenly wish the fire was a little brighter, so I could see the flickering light glint off the gold flecks of his irises.

“And just so you know, I wouldn’t care if you’d done this a thousand times with a thousand other people.

It doesn’t make it any less special. And when we’ve been through this thousands of times ourselves, done it a thousand different ways in a thousand different places, it’ll still be special. Because it’s us.”

“Or whatever,” I breathe, as he pushes his finger inside me.

“Yeah, or whatever.”

With a smirk, Silas plants a soft, somewhat chaste kiss on the tip of my cock. When he pulls his lips away, a silvery string of pre-cum follows, which he licks away before I can lean down and take it from him .

He preps me slowly, reverently, like I’m something small and soft and cherished, and not a six-foot-four defenseman. I let him pull me under his spell, relaxing under his touch, sinking into the mattress and surrendering my body and soul to the one person it was always supposed to belong to.

When he’s above me, eyes locked with mine, I let go of everything I’ve been holding back, and a tear falls down my cheek.

I want to feel it, all of it. To let him in, literally and metaphorically. To reclaim what was taken from us and give it new life.

He pushes inside me slowly and firmly, watching me for any signs of discomfort. It’s amazing how confident he is for someone who hasn’t been on either side of this experience before.

Whenever he meets resistance, he pulls out a little and rocks his hips just enough to help ease the pressure, making soft, soothing shushing noises.

Not quite talking me through it, but giving me comfort and reassurance in that simple sound.

The deeper he gets, the more overwhelmingly full I feel.

I don’t feel big enough inside to hold all of him—and I’ll be damned if that isn’t a metaphor for the truth.

“Bear down,” he reminds me, repeating the instructions I’ve given him before when he was taking my fingers.

His whisper is strained and raspy, betraying how much he’s trying to hold back.

As much as I love the sexy, confident version of him taking me like a seasoned lover, I like seeing his control slip.

That’s when I can see him. The boy I knew.

The man who is confident enough to follow someone three thousand miles from home to another country, throw himself in the line of fire and take the brunt of my anger, tempt me, taunt me, and not give up on me, but still opens his eyes wide in wonder whenever I make him come.

Who blushes when I catch him checking me out, and waits for me to take the lead.

The guy who is calm on the outside but harbors a storm that matches mine on the inside.

The man who is my past, present, and future.

I bear down and let him in, and he sinks into me in every way possible.

He’s trying to hide the tremble in his body when he lowers himself to his forearms to put us chest to chest, but I feel it.

Forehead pressed against mine, he takes his direction from the way I wrap my legs around him and moves.

Easy, languid rolls of his body that have his cock moving over my spot almost excruciatingly slowly.

It’s enough to ease the pressure, but not quite enough to build the pleasure.

“It’s okay,” I reassure him. “You’re not hurting me. You can go harder.”

His head shakes. “I can’t,” he chokes out. “Not yet.”

A wide grin splits my face, and a huff of laughter has me clenching around him in a way that makes him choke.

“Don’t do that,” he wheezes. “I’m trying not to come.”

I don’t want him to think I’m making fun of him, not really. But I’m weirdly loving this.

“It’s okay. You can come.”

“Not until you do.”

“I don’t know if I can yet. But that’s okay. I still want you to.”

He looks stricken, glancing down and noticing my cock is half softened.

“Silas,” I say, reaching to tilt his chin so he can look at me.

“You’re perfect. Everything about this is perfect.

Including that it isn’t some kind of over-the-top romance novel-level multi-orgasmic experience.

It’s the first time. We’re learning each other and you’re inside me.

I know you’re trying to hold back, but I don’t want you to.

I’d rather you feel all the things and experience what makes you feel good.

I’d rather you blow your load in two seconds than hold back for even one.

We can do this as many times as we want, Silas.

Over and over and over again,” I say, kissing him between the words.

He relaxes over me, but he’s still only kissing me.

“Besides, the sooner you come inside me, the sooner I can get inside you.”

His body stiffens for a brief fraction of a second, and then he’s pressing his lips against mine again, deepening the kisses. As his tongue moves into my mouth, his hips start to move. Slowly, at first, but growing stronger. He looks down at where we’re joined, eyes glazed.

“ Fuck .”

There he is. “ Yesss , give it to me.”

Silas pushes himself to his hands, and thrusts into me.

Deep, rolling thrusts that have his body smacking against mine and small whimpers and grunts falling from our mouths.

Sweat rolls off his face. He finds an angle that almost hits my prostate, but I don’t even tell him because I can tell that he’s right there and I want his pleasure more than I want my own.

“Gideon– Where–“

Since we’d assumed I’d be the one topping him, we’d only discussed the topic of where he wanted me to come: in him, on him, in a condom.

I got tested pretty shortly after New Year’s and I’ve also been on PrEP for two years now.

He knows I’m negative and feels safe not having a barrier between us.

Obviously, I didn’t ask him to suit up, because I wanted to feel him the way I’ve never felt anyone before.

“Inside me. Come inside me, Silas.”

“Oh, fuck ?— “

Shit. That look, right there. The lost, glazed, lustful look, biting his lip and brow creased in concentration, that’s enough to get me rock hard and closer than I thought I could get. And when he straightens up, holds the backs of my thighs against my chest, and lets himself go?

Fuck.