My own jeans were growing uncomfortable, but I ignored their tightness as best I could, propping myself up above his lap just enough to let Lane move. He wasted no time shoving his jeans down, and when he pulled me back to sit on the thick muscles of his thighs, his dick tented the thin, dampening material in front of me.
Briefs. Swallowing again, I stroked down that line of hair and then on down his sides, skimming over the charcoal cloth still covering him to feel out the muscular thighs beneath me. Hard as a rock. What was I expecting? He worked at a construction store, after all. It wasn’t like he sat around all day. The way he had moved that furniture, I had no doubt he could move me just as easily.
He had worked around my shirt up until that point, stroking through it and giving me the choice, but now Lane gripped my shirt and gave a little tug. When I met his eyes his pupils were blown, but he was still patient, letting me choose the pace. “Can I?” he asked.
What would he make of me once I was bared? I didn’t have his size or definition, and scars peppered my back. There were a few on my chest, too, but those were less obvious. If he never saw my back then he’d probably never notice the silvery lines on the front, but there was no way we’d get anything done without him noticing the others. The ones on my chest weren’t so terrible that I felt he would be turned off, but the others…
All testaments to Morgan’s lust.
Jerking back from the thought, I grit my teeth and nodded, whipping off my shirt before I could overthink it. Not wanting to give him the chance to look, I dove forward and crashed our mouths together, deepening the kiss and pressing my chest against his. His fingers curled around me, and the feel of his warm hands on my flesh made my nerves sing.
We parted, and he chuckled, sliding his hands down to the waistband of my jeans and resting there against my sides. His hands were huge, where Morgan’s had been fine-boned and elegant, but they were so gentle that I couldn’t even drudge up any fear. There was strength in them, but I really didn’t think it would be turned on me. Instead I sat staring at Lane, fighting to keep my thoughts straight in the mix of nerves and arousal.
His own eyes were on my chest, then my stomach, and back to my face, and when he licked his lower lip I had to lean forward and kiss him. Quick, barely a dip of my tongue into his mouth, and when I pulled back I couldn’t wait for another taste. God, I hoped he wanted another taste. I buried my face against his neck, sucking lightly and letting him get this part over with.
“You’re gorgeous,” he told me, undoing the button of my jeans. I lifted myself up on my knees, using his shoulders as leverage. His hands returned to my hips, warm bands thrumming with his nervous eagerness. He squeezed once, so gentle, then shoved my jeans down my thighs.
I sighed against his neck, nibbling on his salty flesh and pressing my swollen length into his stomach. Even through the cloth of my briefs I could feel the heat of his waiting flesh, and his erection was now hard as steel against my own and my stomach where I pressed against Lane’s chest.
“You’re the gorgeous one,” I corrected, biting harder and enjoying his sucked in breath. I licked the abused skin, pressing my nose back into his neck and inhaling his scent.
“We’ll have to get the rest off before we make a mess,” he muttered, and when I sucked harder against his neck he let out a low sound in his throat that went straight to my dick. He was right, though.
“Yeah,” I agreed, not wanting to move but knowing we’d have to. I could let him go first, but that would only delay the inevitable. He’d see my scars when we got there. Even if I managed to hide it at the start, there was little chance he’d not see anything. Hell, he’d probably already noticed some now.
“Maybe the bed?” The shy sound in the question startled me. I met his eyes again and he added, “I’d rather our first time together be there. In a bed.”
I pressed a quick kiss to the skin I’d been worshiping and pulled back to nod, stamping down the fit of anxiety that pulsed through with my arousal. “I’d like that,” I admitted.
We left our jeans in the living room, and I led the way upstairs, holding onto the lube and correctly sized condoms—both mine and his—like a safety-net. My other hand pinned my loosened jeans on my hip, keeping them from pooling and tripping me. I heard Lane’s drawn breath when I moved in front of him. I tensed myself for the words, but he never said anything, just stroked a hand gently down my back and play-shoved me towards the stairs, as gentle as he had ever been. The play made me laugh, loosening that rock from my throat.
“Impatience will get you nothing,” I teased over my shoulder, careful not to meet his eyes. I didn’t want to see any concern. This would be everything Lane deserved, and I wasn’t going to let either of us be weighed down by my pitfalls. I was practically thrumming with arousal, and if we didn’t make it to the bed soon I wasn’t sure how well I’d keep holding on.
“I’m not the one running up the stairs,” he teased back, but when we got to the bedroom door we both just stood there, somewhat awkward and obviously trying to figure out the next step.
Then Lane chuckled, shoving his briefs off and throwing himself onto the bed, arms spread and body on display. God, I had known he was gorgeous, but to see all that flesh on display made my erection pulse, the dampness at its tip soaking through the cotton.
He was a vision, his muscles defined without being over formed, his body thick and long but more lean than bulky. There was a dusting of hair on his chest, darker than the hair on his head, and the dark trail leading to the nest over his thick erection made my mouth water. His dick itself was as gorgeous as the rest of him, ruddy in arousal and proportionate.
Intimidating, but I couldn’t wait to have its taste on my tongue again.
“Come and get it!” he crowed, waggling his eyebrows at me and looking far too pleased with himself. I could still see a trace of his nervousness in his eyes, but knowing we both felt it made everything so much easier. We both wanted this desperately, and looking at him there, bared and waiting, made me eager to move forward.
I kicked the last of my own clothing off, walking over and enjoying how his eyes locked on my eager erection where it jutted in front of me. Yeah, I want this as much as you do, I thought, sliding onto the bed and standing on my knees. Instantly his hand cupped me, the rough skin of his fingers pulling a moan from my throat. I gripped him in turn, pulling in time with his strokes.
I’d set the condoms next to him, and he let me go to pick them up, holding out the lube and his size of condoms between us. “I’d like to end this in you,” he told me, “before we end up finishing it like this. Can I?”
I swallowed. “Okay.”
I took the condoms, and he kept the lube. After I had him fitted he pulled me over his lap and I stretched out, taking the bottle from him once he had enough for himself. Warming some up in my hands, I twisted to that he could get at my entrance while I rubbed what I’d taken over his enclosed erection.
Its size caught me again, and I felt a rush of excitement mixed with nerves at the idea of taking that beast inside. There was no way I wouldn’t be feeling it. I’d had only one lover my entire life, and his hadn’t been nearly so impressive.
It took little time to prep him, but he took his own time stretching me. By the time he finished I had my face pressed into the mattress, my teeth grit and my balls heavy with the pressure. I stretched out on my stomach, breath ragged, and he crawled behind me, slapping a bit more lube on and then rubbing down my sides and pulling me open.
“Ready, Brett?” he asked hoarsely. I could hear the strain of waiting in his voice.
“Ready,” I panted back.
I lifted myself up, and he eased inside bit by bit, as careful in his entrance as he had been in preparation. It took an eternity, and once he was there he held still, stroking my back with one hand as his other tucked around my stomach, keeping me in place. “Still okay?”
“Very,” I croaked, pressing back. He made a second noise, and then he was
moving, slow at first and then picking up speed as our blood sang in our veins. I moved with him, meeting his thrusts and taking them deep, our bodies growing in sync as we got used to the rhythm. It couldn’t have been long and we were both at the edge. He went first, and it took only a few pulls before I joined him in release, both of us sagging.
I landed in a heap, Lane’s weight stretched along my back and pressing me into the mattress. I’d hated being pinned down before, but here, tonight, it felt safe and, sated, I murmured my appreciation, fumbling to find his hand and bring it to my lips to kiss his knuckles.
We let our bodies calm down and the blood slow in our ears before getting up to clean ourselves off and get rid of the condoms. After that we rolled back into the bed without bothering to dress, and were asleep before long, the forgotten television playing on downstairs.
****
Rolling over sometime in the night, I stiffened when warm flesh met mine. For an instant I was ready to roll out of bed and run, still groggy from dreams, but then Lane muttered something in his sleep and memory rushed back.
We’d slept together in all senses of the phrase. His skin was warm against my own naked side, his emotions a soft contentment of peaceful sleep.
I made myself relax and close my own eyes. Still, sleep took its time returning.
****
I awoke a second time to a lazy grin and pleased green eyes. Pushing the blankets off and into his face, I laughed as he spluttered and bent down to stroke a teasing finger down the length of his half-hard prick. It perked at the attention, and, grinning, I bent closer to lick the tip.
Salt and musk, all his smell. He was thick and far more than a mouthful, but I’d wanted a taste since the first time I saw it. I took the tip in my mouth and sucked, meeting his half-lidded eyes before going back to work. The task and smell had my own body responding, and I was glad to be naked, grinding against the sheet while working Lane.
“Your mouth,” he groaned, stroking my flank and then spreading me open to stroke against my well-used entrance. I stopped rubbing against the bedding, instead enjoying the rough texture of his spit-soaked finger pressing into me as I pinned his hips to the bed, sucking and stroking until his throbbing length was ready to spill.
He gave warning, and I locked my lips tight, drinking what I could and spitting the rest onto the sheet. It needed to be washed anyway.
He breathed deep and pulled me up, working me to my own completion with his hand as his breathing steadied. I gasped into his shoulder, digging my face into the muscles of his chest and snuggling in as our bodies cooled down from the strain.
“I’ll better return the gift soon,” he promised, voice gravelly with the early morning. “You broke me.”
I snickered, lazing in the twisted sheets with him. I’d have to do laundry after we got up, but for now I could enjoy these stolen minutes.
“Do you work today?”
“Da’s out of town, so I’m watching the store. I should be there by ten.” An hour and a half, then. I dug my face back into his chest, breathing in the smell of his sweat beneath the sex. I would have stayed that way, but he cupped my chin, raising my face to meet his in a deep kiss.
Chapter Eleven
Things were calm for the next few weeks. I might have started my relationship with Lane intending to go slowly, but my resolve crumbled the longer things went smoothly.
When we were apart I raged at myself for jumping into this so quickly, but each time we came back together my concerns felt ridiculous. I loved the nights we spent in bed together, and had never felt this comfortable before with Morgan, not even at the start. It made me desperately want to take a chance on it, no matter the odds against me.
Of course, that peaceful cycle of work, Lane, and sleep would have to end.
Curled up with him on the couch, we were edging our way into something stronger than a teenage make-out session. Lane’s shirt was long gone, giving me full range of his chest, while mine was unbuttoned but hanging slack over my shoulders, covering my back and arms but little else.
We had been watching a show, but had lost interest midway through and now something new was playing in the background. The idea to turn it off sprang into my mind only to evaporate when we shifted and I stretched out on top of him, mouths reconnecting. It was hard to concentrate with his tongue rubbing mine.
Then his phone rang.
He grumbled as I pulled back and slid over to let him up, shifting around until I found a more comfortable way to sit. I watched him fumble for his phone and hoped that it was just Corey being a brat. It was nearly eleven, so past the time for social calls.
Lane’s brows furrowed as the person on the other end started talking. “Slow down,” he demanded. The sharp concern in his voice snapped me into high alert. “Are you okay?”
The chill his words sent through me went a long way in cooling my blood. I watched closely, relieved when some of the tension eased out of him at the answer he received. Lane nodded to himself. “Good. Okay. I’ll be right there.”
I closed the button on my jeans and started buttoning my shirt back up while he hung up.
“Where are we going?” I asked. “Was it Corey?”
“He was jumped again.” He sighed. “Thanks. I’m sorry about this.”
“I’m just glad he’s okay—he is, right?”
“He is. Until I finish with him.”
****
The lights were mostly off when we got to the house, only the outdoor lights and the ones in the kitchen blazing signs of life.
“I have no clue what’s going on here,” Lane grumbled on our way inside, “but I’m going to get answers this time.”
“Did he say what happened?”
“No, but he’s going to.”
Corey was slumped over the kitchen table, half a bag of frozen veggies pressed against the right side of his face and an open bottle of beer held against his jaw.
He was watching the door and groaned when he saw the stubborn set of Lane’s jaw.
“It wasn’t my fault,” were the first words out of his mouth.
“No?” The too-calm note in Lane’s voice gave me chills, and the word wasn’t even directed my way. Corey pulled a face, unrepentant, then flinched at the pain it caused. I held back, not wanting to get involved.
He didn’t look too bad, other than the start of what would be bruising along the side of his face and beneath the bottle at his jaw. I wondered if he really should be drinking, but judging by his eyes he hadn’t had too much.
“Seriously, Lane, it was just that asshole Bennett. The asshole just doesn’t get that Annette won’t give him any.”
I shot Corey a look at the same time as Lane, and it cracked the little brat up. He cursed for the third time as his laughter pulled on his cuts and forming bruises.
“Quit it, you jerks,” he grumbled, suddenly amused. “You’re hurting me.”
I flushed and wished I could just blend in with the scenery. Lane, unrepentant, glowered.
“If you’re telling the truth then this is all your fault,” Lane pointed out. “Is it?”
A look of desperation crossed Corey’s face, enough answer for that one. Why lie, though?
“It doesn’t matter what you think,” Corey snapped. He flinched and shifted the frozen veggies to cover his lip. The side of his eye was swollen, all right. It looked like he’d taken at least a couple hits to both his eye and cheek. “Bennett and his buddy Troy are idiots. I can take care of it.”
“You certainly look like you can. What is this ‘it’?”
Corey growled, and the immediate show of his pain that followed had me moving. Pulling the hand with the bag away from his chilled skin, I rested my hand over the swelling flesh around his eye. I closed my eyes against his gawking, gritting my teeth and focusing past the confused anger and curiosity fueling his stubborn show. I needed to track the pain,
It had been a long time since I’d done this by my own choice, not because Morgan ordered
it.
I could feel the source now, though his emotional pain overlapping it gave me a moment of confusion. Easing my internal grip over my energies, I set it loose on the physical pain, wishing it to be eased.
It took only a moment, and then my hand slipped away as a head-rush almost sent me to my knees, blood and pressure pulsing in my ears. Lane caught my arm, steadying me as I came back to myself.
“Brett! Are you okay?” His startled reaction raced into me through his grip, worry underlining it—for me and his brother.
I started to answer when Corey hooted with excitement, startling both of us into glancing his way. My dizziness was ebbing, leaving behind the giddy weariness that often came when I encouraged someone’s healing. I was relieved to see that some of the swelling had already eased. It should heal faster now.
Corey shot his brother a strange look, then grinned at me like I had just shown a neat little trick. “That is so awesome. It felt so weird!”
I gaped at him, and Lane asked after me again, giving Corey a hard look over his shoulder. His brother stuck his tongue out, and then they were both looking at me, waiting. I managed a nod, steady enough to stand on my own but not wanting to lose my connection to the confused but relieved emotions trickling in from my lover.
Now that they knew what I was, would Lane’s easy touching stop? Right then I didn’t feel any reticence, but he’d hardly had a chance to process anything yet. I’d miss his emotions if he did.
“Good.” Lane helped me into a seat, then rounded on his brother, one hand curled over mine. “Don’t go thinking this means you can do whatever you want. He might feel sorry enough for you to help tonight, but keep ruining our dates like this and even his patience will wear thin!”
“Hey now, Lane. I’m just excited I’ll look better for my date with Annette! Thanks, cutie—you’re full of awesome surprises!”
Upon the River Shore Page 10
