Page 76 of The Lineman

And damn if I didn’t believe him.

Five minutes—it might’ve been a week—later, he retrieved his evil digit and pushed off the couch, leaving me breathless, wrung out, and desperate for more.

“Nightstand. Lube in there, too?”

“Uh-huh,” I groaned.

“Be right back,” he said, leaning down and kissing me again. His kisses were even more intoxicating than his finger—and he had onefinefinger.

He returned before I could recover, lube in one hand, condom in the other.

“Can I?” I asked, eyeing the condom.

He smiled. “You can do anything you want. I’m yours.”

My heart did a backflip, then a somersault, then stuck the landing. Even the Russian judge scored it a ten. I wasn’t sure I could count that high in that moment.

With a shaky hand, I reached up and took the condom, ripping the wrapper open with my teeth.

“Hmm. Teeth,” he said, leering down.

With two hands, I guided the rubber over the tip of his cock, briefly wondering if my normal-people-sized condom might strangle his beast of a cock.

It did not.

In fact, the condom slipped on and was thin enough for me to still feel the ripples of his veins or whatever Snickers bar madness was carved into his skin. The thought of that sliding in and out of me made me shiver.

Click.

My eyes snapped up to watch him removed the cap from the lube and squirt a generous amount on his now-sheathed sword. It glistened in the lamplight of my den.

My butthole puckered again.

He then squirted some in his palm.

“Lay back, legs on my shoulders. This might sting at first.”

“Are you my gynecologist?”

“Better. I’m here to beat the shit out of your prostate.” He snorted. “Now, legs up.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice.

He rubbed his hands together, creating friction and warming the lube. No one had ever done that for me before. I think my heart did another backflip at how Elliot seemed to care about every detail. Then his fingers were slicking my hole, and a whole new sensation crawled across my skin. With my legs firmly planted on his shoulders, I did my best to relax.

“I want you to tell me what you want,” he said, his lubed-up fingers still playing with my hole.

“I want you inside me,” I said.

He grinned. “You’re going to get that, but I want you to talk me through it, tell me what you like, guide me on what you want next. I love hearing it. I want to hear it. Talk to me, Mike.”

Oh, my. He likes a talker. That’s a twist.

“Kiss me,” I said.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine.

I could’ve died happy right then.

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