Page 53 of Never Too Late

“It was! I treated you like a burger when I should have treated you like caviar. I devoured you in one go when I should have savored you.”

My hands slid to his lower back, plastering us even closer together. “I’m digging the metaphor, but can I be something other than fish eggs?”

Cillian made a sound that was half snort, half laugh. “A lobster?”

“Still too fishy for my liking.”

“Wagyu beef?”

I nodded. “Yeah, that’ll do. I’ll be Wagyu beef. And in order to taste me, you need to unwrap me.”

“Not yet.”

I mock growled at the familiar words being brought back into play. “I’m beginning to think you’re a sadist.”

“Maybe,” Cillian admitted as he moved us closer to the bed. “But once I strip you, I’m going to get distracted, and I want to do this first.”

Thiswas kissing me, and I had zero complaints. In fact, as we became reacquainted with each other’s lips after a long absence, it suddenly seemed bizarre that this was the first time since Cillian had been back in Paris. But then, we had spent most of that time at the hospital or traveling to and from it. And we might have shared a bed last night, but exhaustion had ensured I had no recollection of it beyond him getting in.

“God, I missed this,” I said between heated kisses. I couldn’t get close enough to him, Cillian seeming to feel the same, our bodies straining against each other. “I need more arms.”

Cillian laughed, the vibration tickling my lips. “What?”

I wriggled the fingers I had curved around his arse and then tapped the back of his neck with the hand I had hooked there. “I can only touch two places at a time. I’m greedy. I want it all.”

Cillian stole another kiss, his mouth a heated brand against mine. “First, you don’t like fishy stuff, and then you want to be an octopus. Make your mind up.”

“I never said I wasn’t contrary.”

“No, you didn’t,” he agreed as he pushed me down on the bed so I was sitting. When I automatically reached for him with plans to lie back and have his body cover mine, he refused to follow me down. “Do you remember that first night online?” he asked as he dropped to his knees on the carpet in front of me. “The fantasy that kicked it all off?”

“I remember,” I said, my voice husky.

“I want to do that. Only for real. Is that okay?”

“More than okay.”

He looked up at me with long-lashed brown eyes full of heat as he pushed my thighs apart and then crawled into the space he’d created. Leaning back on my elbows, I tried to remember how to breathe as he made quick work of the fastenings of my jeans. When he ordered me to lift up, I did, letting him pull my jeans down to mid thigh. In line with the fantasy, he left my underwear in place. “What happened next?” Cillian teased. “You’re going to have to jog my memory.”

“You licked my cock through my underwear,” I urged, too turned on to do anything but tell the truth.

“That’s right,” Cillian said, “I did.” The wet warmth of his tongue against my throbbing dick had me crying out as he bent his head. He traced the length of it, probing and sucking, thefabric of my briefs rapidly becoming sodden. To my relief, he didn’t drag it out like he’d done in the fantasy, reaching the part where he yanked my briefs down to leave me bare to his gaze far sooner.

I only had a couple of seconds to marvel at how hard I was before Cillian swallowed me down, his tongue probing into my slit to hunt down traces of pre-cum, like it was the nectar of the gods.

“Shirt,” I said between gasps, the constant rub of fabric beneath my grasping hands not doing it for me.

He obliged, pulling off my cock with an obscenely loud pop and yanking his T-shirt over his head in one swift move. He wasted no time in getting back to it, tendrils of sweet pleasure wrapping themselves around my nerve endings as I gave myself over to Cillian’s lips and tongue. It was better now that my hands could explore bare skin as he sucked me. I made the most of it, running my fingers over muscled shoulders… the curve of his pecs with their slight covering of hair… the peaked nipples that nestled within... and taut back muscles.

He pushed me right to the brink and then stopped, my breath coming in ragged pants as I wriggled out of my T-shirt, and Cillian pulled my jeans and underwear off the rest of the way. “Now yours,” I demanded while I maneuvered myself so I was the right way round on the bed and my head was on the pillow.

“Mine,” Cillian agreed as he stripped with no regard for teasing. Mere seconds passed before he joined me on the bed, the brush of his bare skin against mine making me groan. Now that we’d dealt with our clothes, we kissed again. Cillian had always been a great kisser; I’d just wished for more of it. Well, it seemed my dreams were coming true, my lover in no rush to move the foreplay on. “We can’t kiss forever,” I said, when we eventually stopped for a breather.

“Why not?” Cillian challenged.

“Well, for one, you have a business to run.” I ran my hand down his chest and encircled his cock, feeling the familiar weight and heft of it and remembering fondly the things it could do. My arse clenched at the memory of how good it felt stretching me and rubbing over my prostate. “And then there’s this little guy.”

“Less of the little, if you don’t mind.”

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