by Emma Lyon
When his eyes drifted down to my cock, he touched himself as if unaware that he was doing so. Stroked his own cock lightly while staring at mine, and fuck, that was a thrilling turn-on. “I’m a little nervous.”
“We don’t have to—”
“I want you inside me,” Lane interrupted firmly. “Just…I’m going to need some prep.”
Unable to bear not touching him any longer, I moved so our bodies were flush, cocks bumping up against each other, and put my hands on his shoulders. “Hey. Of course. Whatever you need. You….” For a moment I couldn’t continue, my heart beating erratically in my chest and constricting with hyped-up emotion. “I really want you,” I admitted.
Lane laughed shakily. “The feeling is most definitely mutual.” He released an uneven breath. “Uh, there’s stuff in the bathroom.”
“Okay.” I kissed him once, lightly on the lips, then forced myself to leave his warmth to go to the bathroom. I found lube and condoms in one of the drawers of the vanity and brought them back with me to the bedroom. When I returned, Lane was on the bed leaning back against the headboard and looking back at me self-consciously. He had one leg bent at the knee and his hands were braced on the quilt like he was nervous, a flush on his neck and chest darkening his creamy gold skin.
I stood at the foot of the bed to soak in the sight of him. Lane looked at me like he was putting himself in my hands and trusting me to make it good. It was a heady rush. I pulled on my cock and Lane’s eyes followed the motion, his tongue snaking out to lick his lips.
I tossed the condom and lube on the bed, then followed them up, crawling toward him until Lane pulled his other knee up with a sharp intake of breath as I settled between them.
I pressed my thumb against the tight, pink entrance to Lane’s hole. If I’d found Lane unbelievably sexy before, it was increased tenfold now. I picked up the lube, dripped a generous amount on my thumb, then pressed the tip of it inside Lane.
Lane sucked in a breath. I watched my thumb slide deeper inside him. I kissed the side of his knee, then trailed my lips down his thigh, dusted with soft hair, to the junction of his groin, where I licked a line up his cock before closing my mouth over it.
Lane arched into my mouth and groaned. “Fuck, Zach.” I sucked the head and listened to his ragged breaths, but I didn’t want him to come from this. I released him with a pop, pulled my thumb out and dripped more lube on my fingers, then worked two of them into him.
“You feel really good,” I said, my fingers nearly crushed by the tight, hot passage, and just the thought that they were inside Lane was enough of a turn-on that my cock jumped and leaked a little precome.
Lane released a breathy laugh. “Not as good as you feel right now.” He pressed back against my fingers and hissed when they found his prostate.
“You okay?”
Lane was staring down at the juncture of his thighs with an intense look on his face, as entranced by the fingers moving in and out of him as I was. “I don’t think I can wait much longer.”
I scissored my fingers, stretching him. “You’re really tight.”
“I don’t care,” he said, voice laced with tension. He pressed his head back into the headboard when I brushed over his prostate again. “Zach,” he growled.
I would laugh if I wasn’t so hard myself I was afraid of erupting just from the sight of him. I found the condom on the bed and tossed it on his chest. “Get that open for me, then.”
Lane’s eyebrows raised at the order, but then he brought the edge of the foil wrapper to his mouth to grasp it with his teeth and rip it slowly open, his eyes never leaving mine.
Fucking tease. I willed my cock to behave, but it was touch and go for a moment. I pulled my fingers out and Lane levered himself up so he could get the condom over my rock-hard length, lingering a little more than was necessary.
“If you want me to fuck you, you have to stop touching me like that,” I warned.
Lane smiled, and I wanted him desperately. “All right.” He tilted his head up and stole a kiss, then pulled me back down to the bed with him with an arm crooked around the back of my neck, and we made out while I got myself back under control.
When Lane slung his leg over my shoulder with mouth-watering ease, I took the hint and lined the head of my cock with his entrance. Even stretched, Lane was a tight fit. When I pushed through the ring of muscle, the heat of him blistering through the condom, the squeeze took my breath away.
Lane’s face was flushed with dazed arousal. He grabbed my hand and crushed it as tightly as his passage clenched around my cock. I was halfway in and I moved another inch, triggering another spasm around me that threatened to cut this disappointingly short.
Reciting old catechisms from Sunday school in my head, I wrapped my other hand, still slick with lube, around Lane’s cock. “Relax. I’m almost in.”
Lane’s answer to that was to arch his hips up until I sank the rest of the way into him, buried to the hilt in his depths. “I’m not going to break,” he said unsteadily.
I stretched over him to capture his mouth, every inch of me alight with excitement and wonder that I was all the way inside him. “You’re going to break me,” I said against his mouth.
Lane chuckled, then murmured, as calm as could be, “If I wanted you to fuck me hard, fuck me so I feel it for days, would you do it?”
The electric jolt of his words surged all the way through me. For a moment, I couldn’t speak. “Lane, I would do pretty much anything you asked me to.”
The truth of that hung between us. The look Lane gave me then, want blazing darkly in his eyes, was intoxicating, and I soaked it up like a drug. “That’s what I want.”
He was literally going to be the death of me. I closed my eyes to stave off my cock wanting desperately to release and shifted to get my knees under him. I pulled almost all the way out, then watching Lane’s face carefully, thrust back into him while he groaned and scrabbled at my shoulders. “Like that?”
“Yes,” he said, breathless. When I did it again, I felt the sharp sting of his fingers digging into my shoulders, which I didn’t mind at all.
Each hard thrust took me one step closer to falling apart. We rocked together, careful not to let the headboard bang against the wall, until Lane was muffling his moans with his own fist. I pulled his hand away to thrust my tongue into the heat of his mouth, fucking him there like my cock was fucking into his passage, and pressed his wrists to the bed.
“I need your hand on me,” he whispered when we came up for air.
I released one of his wrists and reached down between us to close over his cock, and he thrust immediately into my hand.
There was no way I was going to last another second, except astonishingly I did. I stroked up with my hand, rubbing my thumb under the head of his sensitive tip, each movement of my cock a focused burst of pleasure that built and built, until Lane cried out and came all over my hand. When the muscles of his hole tightened around me, I couldn’t hold back anymore and released inside him in an eruption of bliss.
Collapsing on top of him, I had enough presence of mind to take my weight on my forearms until I’d caught my breath enough to ease carefully out of him. I shifted so Lane could lower his legs with only a small wince.
“Holy shit, Zach,” he said, sounding drugged.
“Yeah,” I agreed breathlessly. I felt wrung out, fucked out, as done for as if I’d just run a marathon and just as high from it. And yeah, it had been a while, but if I was being honest with myself, it had never been like that for me. With anyone.
After a moment, I managed to rouse myself enough to take care of the condom in the bathroom, and when I returned, Lane was still a dazed tangle of limbs on the bed. I crawled over them to kiss him. “Get under the covers,” I murmured, and with some help, Lane managed to move enough for us to pull the quilt down.
I didn’t hesitate this time, just pulled him to me and draped my leg over his thigh, feeling a little possessive, because yeah, I’d ju
st fucked and come inside my man, and my lizard brain was aglow with satisfaction.
Lane’s chuckle rumbled through me. “I had no idea you were such a cuddler.”
“Get used to it,” I murmured, and it wasn’t until Lane’s breath stilled that I realized what I’d said. But I’d meant it, so I just kissed the curve of Lane’s jaw and tucked my hand in his like a promise.
21
Lane
This time when I woke to sunlight streaming through the windows, the other side of the bed was still very much occupied.
Not that Zach was taking up much of his half; he seemed much more intent on wrapping himself around me in as tight a space as he could squeeze us. Until now, I wouldn’t have said I was a snuggler—Bryce had never been clingy in bed—but with the weight of Zach’s arm over me, and the press of his body curled protectively around me, I decided that I most definitely liked it.
But God, I ached everywhere. It was what I’d wanted, when I’d asked Zach to fuck me hard. Because if I still felt it days from now, it was proof that it had happened. That the entire weekend hadn’t been some delusional fever dream.
Zach’s arms tightened around me as he stirred. I managed to extricate myself from his death grip enough to turn to face him, aches from the night before traveling blissfully up my spine. “Good morning.”
“Mm,” Zach replied, smiling sleepily and looking so pleased with himself that I had to laugh, even as some deeper, more dangerous emotion clutched at my chest.
“Sleep well?” Zach nodded, then he leaned forward to peck a kiss on my lips. I made a face. “I have morning breath.”
“Yes,” he agreed, and I huffed a laugh.
“Fucker.”
“I thought we established that.”
I rolled my eyes but admitted, “You established that pretty phenomenally.”
He smiled again. The dangerous emotion burrowed and took root. I could stare at Zach’s handsome face all morning and fall even harder and more irrevocably, so I forced myself to say, “I need a shower.”
I was about to get up but Zach’s hand on my arm stopped me. “Give me a minute and I’ll join you.”
So I laid back down until our noses were almost touching and stared at Zach’s eyelashes brushing the top of his cheeks, and the sexy curve of his ear. I hadn’t actually realized how sexy Zach’s ears were.
“We can’t spend all day in bed,” I said, even though I wished we could.
Zach groaned and levered himself up. “Fine, fine,” he grumbled, but held a hand out for me, and I realized that yeah, apparently we were going to shower together.
Luckily the shower was big enough to accommodate both of us. Zach poured shower gel in our hands and we lathered each other up, me lingering on the hard contours of his body, until with a shock Zach turned me around and knelt behind me, spreading my cheeks and letting water run down my crack to wash away the lube left there.
Zach washed me gently with his hands, until—oh fuck—I felt the wet heat of his tongue swipe a line between my cheeks and press at my entrance.
I reached blindly for the tiled shower wall for support as Zach dipped his tongue in to soothe away the lingering soreness. The combination of Zach’s tongue and remembering why I ached there to begin with conspired to short-circuit my brain.
“Zach,” I gasped out, not sure if I was begging him to stop or go on. He just redoubled his efforts and increased the pressure of the wet heat of his tongue, until I bit the side of my fist to keep from moaning load enough to alert everyone to what we were doing.
I felt debauched and a little dirty, and something in me thrilled at it. Zach’s tongue was taking me apart piece by piece, every part of me laid bare to him, all my defenses down.
When he reached around to grasp the base of my cock and cup my balls, I choked off a shout and spilled over in waves of pleasure as he stroked me through it.
Zach got up from his knees and held me upright with an arm around my waist as he nuzzled a kiss in my neck. “I guess I know where your go-to happy button is now.”
I laughed shakily, thinking, with you, that’s pretty much everywhere.
After finally convincing Zach we were clean enough, I left him still getting dressed while I went downstairs to brew us both some coffee.
My father was sitting at the kitchen island with a mug in his hand and a newspaper spread out in front of him.
“Dad, hey,” I said, breathless, because running into my father while thinking about Zach’s tongue in my ass was not how I’d planned to start the morning.
“Lane.” He put his mug down and looked at me over his reading glasses. “It’s good to see you.”
“Likewise.” I pulled myself together and went to the coffee maker to fill the dispensary with water. “How was your drive?”
“Uneventful.” My father folded the newspaper over to the next page. “How is school?”
“School is fine.”
“Good, good.” A significant pause followed. “Have you given any more thought to the staff job I emailed you about?”
I should have known he’d bring it up. “I’m not really interested in working on the Hill,” I said carefully. “Actually, I’ve been looking at academic positions for when I finish. My advisor thinks I should start publishing and presenting more, so once the campaign is over, I plan to focus on that.”
My father was silent, but I still knew what he was thinking. “Do you really think spending your life in a university is the best use of your potential?”
I couldn’t keep the edge from my voice. “Not everyone wants your life, Dad.”
To my surprise, he said, “I know. I just want you to take advantage of the opportunities you have. Not everyone has them.”
Just because an opportunity was there didn’t mean it was the best thing to take it. But it was a familiar argument and not one we were likely to see eye to eye on soon.
I was saved from having to reply by the thump of footsteps on the stairs signaling Zach’s arrival. “It’s possible we just used up all the hot water—oh.” Zach halted at the bottom of the stairs, face flushed and wet hair sticking up. I was sure we were both flashing neon signs of what we’d just been doing to one another in the shower, even though I knew that was ridiculous.
“William Garrett.” My father held his hand out, and Zach stepped forward to take it.
“Zach Pearson. It’s nice to meet you, sir.”
“Jessica told me your name. She said Lane had a friend with him.”
I wanted to roll my eyes at the euphemism, like I was twelve and having a sleepover, but that was my dad—he’d always accepted my sexuality, but it wasn’t something we got into specifics about.
I tried to get a read on how he was taking Zach’s presence. He didn’t look hostile, but he didn’t look particularly friendly, either. Then again, he’d just met Zach, and he’d spent his morning in the car driving here. “Where is mom?”
“She had a few things to pick up in town. Are you two around today or are you going back to the city?”
“Actually, I thought we’d stay the night to miss traffic and get an early start tomorrow. If that’s all right with you, Zach?”
“Sure, that works,” Zach said, as easygoing as always.
My father folded his newspaper and stood up. “Then I’m sure I’ll see you later. I have some work to finish up. Zach.” He nodded at Zach, and took his coffee and paper out of the kitchen with him.
When he was gone, Zach came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, nuzzling my neck. “Your dad is scary,” he whispered.
I laughed and turned my face for a kiss. I was coming to realize that Zach was a tactile person, and I liked that more than I ever thought I would. “I think he’s just distracted.” That was probably all it was. “If it’s really all right for us to stay another night, I thought I’d show you around a bit more, give you a driving tour.”
“I’m at your disposal,” Zach said in a sexy drawl that rumbled all the way thr
ough me. He released me long enough for me to finish making us coffee, and accepted the mug I handed him.
“Hm,” I said, blowing on my coffee and eyeing him speculatively over it. “What exactly does that mean, at my disposal?”
Zach put his coffee down and pulled me to him, cupping my ass in a proprietary way I was not at all averse to. “It means that today you can have your way with me however you like, Mr. Garrett.”
I grinned back at him. “Works for me.”
22
Zach
We ended up stopping for bagels and more coffee in town. I only made a couple snide comments about the bagels, which I thought was fairly restrained of me. It wasn’t as if they were bad. They just weren’t really bagels.
“You know, I’ve been to New York before,” Lane said, amused by my affront. In a faded t-shirt and shorts that hugged his thighs, he looked so good that I hadn’t been able to keep my hands off him while we waited in line for the food and coffee. It had gotten us a few looks, but Lane had shown zero fucks for any judging eyes, instead holding my hand and putting up with my mild manhandling with every indication he was enjoying it. “I’ve eaten New York bagels. They taste exactly the same.”
“Bite your lying tongue.” I sat back in the passenger seat and looked out over the trees and wetlands of the scenery, eyes shielded from the sun and feeling pretty damn good. “You obviously haven’t been to the right places.”
Lane glanced at me sidelong. “Is that an invitation?”
“Yep,” I said, because the thought of spiriting Lane away to New York with me filled me with giddy pleasure. I’d show him all my favorite haunts. Introduce him to a proper bagel. Take him to a Yankees game, though considering where Lane had grown up, he probably hated the Yankees.
Well, no one was perfect.
I finished off the rest of my coffee and put the cup back in the holder. “Where are you taking me, anyway?”
