“I see.”
What did he see? Not the truth, that I’d occasionally had friends with benefits but solely with the understanding the I controlled the entire show.
His gaze slowly lowered to my still-throbbing cock. Interminable seconds passed while I fought to keep from nutting like it was my first time.
“Do you trust me?” he asked, meeting my gaze with a new and unreadable expression.
I nodded slowly because yes, I trusted him. Even helpless—with two broken arms like some wounded antelope in the Serengeti, waiting for a predator to put it out of its misery—I trusted him.
He didn’t move for what seemed like a long time. It killed me to stay still under the piercing gaze of that single vividly blue eye. Neither of us moved a muscle.
“I’m going to need you to say the words,” he whispered. “I need you to answer me clearly. Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” I croaked. “I trust you.”
Chapter Seventeen
Stone
My God.
I was really going to wrap my hand around another man’s junk.
Even as I reached out my hand to take hold of Sebastian’s erect cock, the cold precision that my rational mind tried to force on me dissolved into wonder.
I wanted to touch him.
Ineededto touch him on some level I’d barely begun to understand.
And it wasn’t as if I hadn’t handled a dick before. His was rosier than mine. Younger in appearance, but no smaller and no less rigid when I brushed the length of him with the back of my knuckles.
He shivered deliciously.
I wrapped my fingers around his shaft to see what other noises I could get him to make. At the same time, I lowered myself before him, one knee in a puddle of water on the hard floor, the other foot flat, leg bent to balance my weight with an elbow on my thigh.
Shower head forgotten, I gave his cock an experimental pump. He groaned and let his head fall back, exposing his throat to me.
Unable to speak, I leaned forward and nuzzled into the soft skin beneath his ear as I pumped his cock again.
“Guh.” He opened his mouth to pant. His legs fell open.
I pumped again, slowly, hand twisting on the upstroke, thumb gliding over his slit.
I didn’t have lotion or lube, so I reached for my conditioner and squeezed a dollop into my palm. He gasped when I returned to him, hand slick.
“Yes.” He breathed in deeply through his nose. Self-consciously, I thought. Maybe he was trying to be cool and precise too, and suddenly that was the last—the quintessentially most useless—thing I could think of being when I was with him like that.
No.Instead of keeping things rational, I wanted to tear into him and hold the pieces in my hands as he cried out in ecstasy.
I leaned in again, careful of his wrapped arms, and kissed the soft skin beneath his jaw and down his throat. He shifted his right arm, giving me access to a soft pink nipple. I feasted on it, sucking and licking and nipping while I ran a tight slick fist over his dick.
He punched up into my hand with a helpless warble. As ifohandahandpleasegot into a traffic collision in his throat and all that was left was a surprised inarticulate plea.
His breath shuddered, and I liked it. I reveled in it.
And suddenly it wasn’t enough to strip his dick while he was sitting in a chair facing me with two broken arms. Suddenly, I wanted his skin in my mouth. His body in both hands. So I pushed and pulled the chair he sat in until I was kneeling behind it with access to his lovely neck and a surprisingly muscled upper back. Now, when I reached around him, the entirety of his chest and abdomen and cock was all mine to explore with both hands.
His head fell against my shoulder, his hair damp and dripping down my back.
