Page 102 of Felix

Me: You said you’d fuck me.

Christian: Mm. After you give me a show.

Instead of reaching for my nipples, I turn onto my stomach and lower my briefs, giving Christian a view of my ass. I spread my cheek to the side and pointedly make a middle finger, rubbing it over my rim.

Christian: You cheeky shit.

“You like it,” I mumble, pressing the tip of my finger inside my ass. I groan, rocking back on the digit.

Another ping comes from my phone, and I curse, fumbling to grab it.

Christian: Get the lube, Specs. Open yourself up. Pretend it’s my tongue.

“Fucking…” I hastily type out a one-handed response.

Me: Need 2 hear u.

The call comes through a moment later, and I accept it, tossing my phone on my pillow right after.

“Well hello, stranger,” Christian says.

“You’re an ass,” I mutter, reaching into my nightstand.

He laughs. “Because I like watching my boyfriend pleasure himself?”

My body rolls in a shiver, and I’m not sure if it’s because Christian is so good at pushing my buttons or because of the simple word that thrills me every time I hear it. Boyfriend.

“You’re an ass because it’s my finger and not your tongue,” I inform him, popping the cap on the lube. I wet my finger and bring it back to my hole, slipping it all the way inside with a sigh.

“You like it, Specs,” he says, voice hoarse. “You like fucking yourself for me. You like showing me how much your body begs for it. And I like watching you.”

“Why?” I nearly whisper, pumping two fingers in and out now.

Christian hums as my pulse hammers. “Because you’re beautiful like this,” he says seriously. “You’re real. You light up the same way you do when you talk about brains and biases and things I don’t entirely understand but want to learn more about. You let go of all the responsibilities weighing you down, and you show me living proof of what it means to be in the moment. To be transparent and wholly yourself, and I admire that. It’s how I want to live. I think you’re brave, Specs. And I thought I was brave, too. But you make me feel invincible.”

My breath puffs out of me, my fingers stilling in my ass. I turn my head, seeking Christian out, finding him watching me. He’s too far away.

“Get over here,” I rasp.

“Are you sure? I’d be happy to play voyeur a little longer, my kinky exhibitionist.”

“Christian. Get over here now.”

“All right, Specs,” he says softly, walking away from the window. “I hope your door is unlocked.”

“It is. Hurry. Fuck.”

“On my way.”

Christian clicks off the call, and I blow out a breath, every nerve ending in my body alive and sparking. I have no doubt the pleasure centers in my brain are lit like a supernova right now. But there’s more, too. There’s warmth in my chest. A lightness in my lungs.

There are certain things necessary to our survival as human beings. Eating. Drinking. Breathing. But, sometimes, our brains deem love to be just as essential. It’s not a tangible resource. It’s not something we can hold or measure in our palms. But we can trace its path throughout our neural networks. We can see the very proof of love’s existence in our body.

I have no doubt that by coming into my life, Christian has altered my brain chemistry.

And in doing so, he’s changed my world.

Chapter 26

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