With the next flick of his tongue, I go over the edge. I groan his name as I come. I shake through my orgasm, soaking up every bit of pleasure.
He drags his lips over my inner thigh.
He plants a kiss on my pelvis. My stomach. My breastbone.
I tug at his t-shirt.
He pins my wrists to the bed. Straddles me. Stares down at me with that intense, demanding look in his eyes. "Keep your hands over your head."
I nod.
Fuck, the weight of him—
He tosses his t-shirt aside. Reaches around his back to pull something from his pocket.
A condom.
He tosses it on the bed next to him.
Slides off me for long enough to shimmy out of his jeans. Then the boxers.
Fuck, that's...
That's Brendon naked.
He's...
Fuck.
His fingers curl around my wrist. He takes my hand and brings my arms over my body.
Brings my hand to his cock.
Slowly, I wrap my fingers around him.
His skin is soft but he's so hard.
And that's...
The thought keeps screaming in my head.
That's Brendon.
He's in my hand.
He's lying next to me.
He's kissing me, clai
ming my mouth with his tongue.
He tastes like me.
Brendon tastes like me. It's wonderful and thrilling and absurd.
His hand stays on my wrist. He guides my movements as I stroke him.
Then he's groaning against my lips.