Liam is preoccupied. Licking one of my nipples. Biting gently. Licking again. Doing a fantastic job.
“You heard me,” I repeat. I twine my finger in his hair to slow him down. “On the phone.”
He stops, but doesn’t lift his head. His breath, warm against my breast, has me shivering. “Remember when I found you in my bathroom? I haven’t stopped thinking about your tits ever since—”
“Liam, you heard me tell my friends about...” He’s currently busy sucking on the underside of my breast, but for some reason I cannot bring myself to repeat the words. “About what I wanted you to do. You heard me.”
He looks up. He’s flushed, turned on, and more beautiful than ever. “I can do it, Mara. I can do it for you. What you want.”
“I don’t—” This is mortifying. I push him away, but he barely budges. “If this is some kind of charity, I don’t need a pity fuck. I am perfectly capable of—”
He takes my palm and drags it down his chest, past his abdomen, until his cock is hot in my hand. He is massive, and almost automatically my fingers close around him. Liam grimaces, biting his lower lip, and I have the sudden realization that he’s been touching me in all sorts of manners, but I haven’t touched him yet, not at all. It seems sad, and unfair, and unbearably stupid. Something to remedy.
“Does this feel like I’m giving you a pity fuck?”
No. No, it definitely does not. But. “I don’t know.”
Of its own free will, my hand starts moving up and down his length, simple strokes that have him gasping and shutting his eyes. His lips part as I circle around the damp head with my thumb. The arm he’s leaning on shakes. Visibly.
“Come on, Mara.” His hips are thrusting, now. In and out of my fist. He’s getting closer. Closer to something. “You must know.”
“Know what?”
“How hard it’s been, to—fuck—to keep my hands off you. How much I’ve wanted this, almost since the very beginning.”
Oh.
Oh God.
His eyes are glazed, muscles taut. He is on the verge of coming, that much is obvious. So obvious that I’m shocked when his fingers wrap around my wrist to stop me.
“Please, let me fuck you. Let me give you what you need. Let me try, at least.” He kisses a spot under my jaw. “Hard and fast.”
I’m not about to tell him no. I’m not about to tell myself no. Instead I smile and pull him on top of me, arms twined around his neck as I silently mouth against the flesh of his shoulder how much I like him, how much I love this, and Liam adjusts us and angles himself until he’s almost inside again, hot and wet and... the most annoying thought occurs to me. Shit.
“Condom! We need—do you—?”
Liam groans. “Fuck.” His biceps are shaking, fingers white as they fist in the sheets. Then he takes a deep breath and shifts, rearranging until he can slide one finger—two—deep inside me, curling them upward so that he is thrumming exactly where I need him.
“What are you—?” God, this feels insanely good.
“I don’t have any condoms.” His words are a bit slurred. “I’m just going to make you come like this and then get myself off.” He sounds like he’s doing the single hardest thing in his life, and yet it’s clear that he’s absolutely fine with it. Which... No. No, no, no, no.
“Liam, are you—Ah—are you clean?” His thumb brushes my clit. I moan. “Because I’m on the pill, and...”
“I have no idea.”
How does he not know? I reach down to hold his forearm still. Problem is, he can still curve his fingers. His long, beautiful fingers.
“Have you been tested, since the last time you...?”
I brace for all sorts of horrifying answers, ranging from Why, of course not, my last one-night stand was yesterday, to Everyone has HPV, anyway. But what comes is, “I’ve had a bunch of yearly physicals for work. I— Mara, it doesn’t matter.” He kisses me on the cheek, and a clever twist of his wrist makes my brain go blank. “I think I can make you come with my fingers. That’s safe. And you don’t have to be around later, when I...”
Yearly physicals? Plural? “When was the last time you had sex? Can you—ah, please, please stop that.”
“I have no idea.” Liam pulls out his fingers. For a second, the friction is distracting. Then my pussy clenches in protest. “I don’t have sex, Mara.”
“You... You what?”