“Lift up,” I demanded. Laurent did so without argument, and I yanked his jeans down to mid-thigh, his underwear now the only barrier between me and what lay behind it. Was he big? Bigger than me? Curiosity had me curling my fingers around his waistband and preparing to remove that last layer. If he wanted a blow job, then I was going to do my damndest to give it to him. Even if it meant making it up as I went along.
Strong fingers encircled my wrist, stopping my movement from going any further. I jerked my head up to find Laurent’s dark eyes on me. “Okay. Stop. You’ve proved your point.”
Had I? I guess I had. He’d given me a challenge he’d expected me to back down from, and in typical Cormac King fashion, I hadn’t. I smiled. “Let go? I haven’t even gotten started.”
Laurent shook his head. “This is not…”
Frustratingly, he ran out of words at that point. “This is not what? Not what you want? Not what you expected? Not right? What?”
“None of them. All of them. I don’t know.” His fingers tightened, and I wondered how much force it took to break a wrist.
“You want me,” I said.
“You’re so arrogant.”
“And you want me, anyway. You like my arrogance. You like that I’m pushy. You likeme.”
“I tolerate you at best.”
“Yeah, keep telling yourself that. You lied to your friends for me.”
“I lied to one friend and your brother. Cillian and I are not friends.”
I tried to tug my hand free from Laurent’s gasp, but he wasn’t letting go. “Stop being awkward. You can’t ask me to do something, and then not let me do it.”
“You’d really go through with it?”
“Yes.” And I had an inkling that I’d enjoy it.
Laurent said something in French that I assumed was far from polite. “You were supposed to get scared and leave.”
Still on my knees, I tipped my head back and met his gaze. “Scared of your cock… please. I’m a man, not a jellyfish.”
Laurent stared at me for the longest time. Long enough that it felt like he could see into my soul. “Not like this,” he eventually said. He let go of my wrist, but stood before I could capitalize on it. His initial momentum sent me tumbling backwards to arse-plant none too gracefully. I was still trying to recover my equilibrium and work out what was going on and what ‘not like this’ was supposed to signify when he tugged his jeans high enough so he could walk, and did just that.
He paused in the doorway of his bedroom to look back over his shoulder. “Are you coming?”
I scrambled to my feet, equal parts turned on and nervous by the unexpected invitation. When I reached the bedroom, Laurent was standing by the bed. “Leave the door open,” he instructed. “That way, if you want to make a run for it, there’s nothing in your way.”
“I won’t.”
“We’ll see.” He gestured at the bed. “Sit.”
I sat. “Are you this bossy with all your lovers?”
I got an eye roll for that one. “I’m going to show you what you’re asking for.”
“Okay.”
Laurent peeled his T-shirt off first, his abdominal muscles toned enough that it wouldn’t have taken much more effort to turn it into a six-pack. “Am I just supposed to watch?” I asked. “Or am I allowed to touch?”
Laurent’s answer came in him stepping forward. I ran my fingers over muscled biceps and then over his collarbone. I followed the slight smattering of hair down the center of his abdomen until it disappeared into his briefs. And then I let the devil take over and tweaked one of his nipples.
Laurent immediately recoiled. “Ow! That hurt.”
“Sorry,” I said, the grin I couldn’t hold back, giving away that I was merely paying lip service and wasn’t at all sorry. “It was just so tempting.”
Laurent rubbed at his chest, his expression wounded. “I’m trying to be nice here. We could be on the sofa with me ramming my cock down your throat.”
