“Sh. Calm down. Of course I do. I just want you to be comfortable.”
Instead of facing the nervous shake in my voice, I lean down and capture his lips in a deep kiss, trying to show him how I feel about this—about us. How I want us to be together in every way possible.
Tahegin must understand my silent communication because he takes control of the kiss, one hand on the back of my neck, holding me close while the other disappears for a moment. When it returns, his fingers are slick with lube. “Stroke us,” he encourages me as those fingers slip between my ass cheeks. I unconsciously tense, but one tug of my fist on our joined cocks has me melting into a puddle of pleasure. Tahegin eases a finger inside me, the sensation foreign and strange. In and in he goes—for what feels like forever—and I can’t imagine how deep it will feel once his dick is inside me.
Adjusting his finger, Tahegin caresses my most intimate place, searching for—
“Ahh, fuck,” I breathe when he finds it. My head falls to his chest as I hold on for dear life, body trembling.
“Yeah?” His chest rumbles beneath my forehead as he chuckles. “You like?”
That finger sweeps again over what I can only assume is my prostate, and I shudder. Gooseflesh spreads across my arms. How can something hidden in there feel so toe-curling good? Like he’s stroking my cock from the inside, at the heart of pleasure. “God, T,” I gasp.
“Keep stroking us, Rix.”
I restart my pumping fist, not fully confident if I’m thrusting forward into my hand or backward onto his finger. No, fingers. He’s as gentle with me as possible, and with the work I’ve done on my own these past few weeks, he stretches me to three fingers in no time.
“Are you ready?” he asks, his slick tip nudging my hole as his fingers slip out.
I bury my face in his neck to hide my nervousness and nod.
One of his hands holds his shaft steady at the root as he carefully enters me, and when I instinctively clench, his other dives between us to stroke me. Slowly relaxing, I open myself for his intrusion, my fingers tangling in his dark curls as I hold him close.
He lets out a guttural groan, pausing halfway to withdraw and enter me again. The slow burn almost seems worse than if I were to just get it over with so we can move on to the fun part.
Once I have the thought, it refuses to go away, so as Tahegin pulls out and eases in again, I submit to the idea. I push on his chest, slowly sitting up to adjust to the feel of him inside me, and as our eyes lock, I drop my hips to meet his.
Tahegin cries out, curling toward me.
Me? I feel like I’m being split open and my guts are being forced into my chest cavity.
“Shit,” I breathe through the discomfort. “Did I hurt you?”
“Did you hurt you?” he counters. “Jesus, Rix.”
I circle my hips, testing. The fullness is different, not uncomfortable, and the movement has him rubbing deep inside me. I feel stuffed. Filled up and owned by him. God, this is the hottest thing I have ever felt—or done—or thought—or anything. There aren’t words to describe it, but I know I want more.
“Rix?”
“More, T,” I lean down and moan against his lips.
He grins, letting out a nervous chuckle. “So, um.”
I pull back to eye him warily.
“Funny story . . . My hamstring is fucking killing me.” He gives me a sheepish look. “So, you might have to do most of the work.”
Though he’s acting like I’ll be upset about having to participate during sex—as if—I focus instead on the part about him being in pain. I want this, even if I have to fuck myself on him, but I don’t want to hurt him any worse. I’d rather wait if we need to or do something else. There are plenty of ways to get off. We’ve done pretty much all of them already.
Using my hands on his chest to steady myself, I rock up, dragging him out nearly all the way before falling back down until our hips meet again. “Does this hurt?” I ask, breathless at the feel of him inside me.
He grabs my ass and pulls my cheeks apart so I slip further down his length, to the hilt. The groan he releases is all pleasure. “No,” he breathes. “You feel amazing, Rix. So tight.”
Wordlessly, I begin to grind on him, up and down and forward and back, finding a rhythm that feels good inside me. By Tahegin’s awed, blissed-out expression, he is enjoying it, too. I dig the fingers of one hand into his pec and rub my other thumb over his navel as pleasure builds and builds. He holds my ass, helping lift and drop me, and then he uses his grip to tilt my hips. At the new angle, his cock slides along my prostate, making my entire body shudder at the ecstasy coursing through me.
My eyes snap to his. “I’m close.”
“Me too.” One of his hands leaves my ass to slip between us. He fists my bouncing cock, stroking me as my pleasure soars high, riding a mountain top. His gaze lowers to watch his hand on me or maybe his cock as it disappears inside me. He bites his lip so hard the color pales. “Fuck yeah, Rix. Make me come.”
His filthy words, his hand on me, his dick in me, his pleasure and mine . . . It all collides in a rush of bliss, and I come. Hard. My release covers his bronze chest and abs, a hearty spurt even managing to nail his collarbone. Beneath me, Tahegin tenses, gutturally crying out my name when his climax hits, and I feel him. Inside me. Twitching. Pulsing. Dripping.
“Oh, fuck me,” I pant as I collapse on his chest, too exhausted to care about the mess squishing between us.
“Just did,” Tahegin chuckles, sounding just as breathless as me. I laugh, too, and the movement causes his softening cock to slip out of me, a gush of something warm and wet following close behind. It’s not an amazing feeling, but thinking about what it is and where it came from has me smiling to myself.
No doubt, I’ll be sore tomorrow. For now, though, I nestle in Tahegin’s sweaty embrace and accept the kiss he places on my lips before trying to clean us up with a discarded T-shirt as well as he can without my cooperation.
“Love you,” I murmur sleepily as exhaustion takes me under.
I barely catch Tahegin’s contented hum and whispered “Love you, too, Rix.”
CHAPTER 32
HENDRIX AVERY
“How . . .” I stare unblinkingly at the piece of paper in my hands, frozen in shock. “How did this happen?”
Beside me, Micah jumps to attention. He points wildly over the page while explaining everything he has learned this season. “Oh! I know this one! Okay, so. Skittles and M&Ms, remember? You guys were the number six ranked Skittle, then you beat the third. Then, you beat the first Skittle. Apparently, you guys weren’t supposed to win, but you did. Big scandal. In the Skittles championship game, you played the number two Skittle—see, ’cause they beat the number four and seven before that. You guys won the Skittle championship, so now you’re going to the Super Bowl to play the number one M&M. Yay! Good job!”
