Page 128 of Jaded

His fingers drop to the waist of my jeans, and before I realize what’s happening, he’s gotten them undone and his fingers slide down the front of my underwear to cup my cock.

I gasp. That soft grip of fingers—through the cloth—why does that feel so damn good? Why do my hips rock forward to fuck friction from his palm, why is everything with him so much more intense than it’s ever been with anyone else?

The answer hits me in a rush.

Because he’s . . . Olli. Because this, with him, with us, it’s different.

More.

He squeezes me gently, the force sending my mind spinning on a spiral of desire, so I almost don’t realize he’s unbuttoning his pants with his free hand.

“Are you ready for more?” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth. “You tell me to stop, and I’ll stop.”

“No way.” I huff a laugh against the soft press of his skin. “You can’t say stuff like that while you’re touching me like . . . shit. Shit, do that again.”

“How about I do more?” His fingers slide up towards my waistband, and I get one more lucid thought before it all goes to hell.

“Are you sure? Olli? Are you—”

He lifts his left hand, a little tube clutched between his fingers. “Would I have brought lube if I wasn’t sure?”

“What—” But the word cuts off, the thought lost entirely, as his fingers slip down the front of my underwear to circle my cock.

“Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you.” Olli bites at my lower lip, his fingers still stroking. “My plan this whole time was to get you alone in the woods and take advantage of you.”

Suddenly he’s tugging at the waistband of my underwear, lowering it down beneath my balls so I’m exposed to the cold winter, to his bodyheat. So there’s nothing to hinder his hand as it closes around me again. His lips whisper over mine, like he doesn’t want to distract me from the expert ministrations of his fingers on my cock.

“Want to feel something really good?” he murmurs against my mouth. His free hand moves between us, and I don’t realize what he’s doing until I glance down to find his own cock exposed between us—large and erect.

Then he presses his body close to mine, trapping our bare cocks together between our two bodies. Heat zings through me, and a groan tears from my throat. “Fuck.”

“Yeah?” He murmurs against my throat, pressing in closer, harder, adding a little rock of his hips. “You like that?”

More heat floods me in a fizzy, fiery rush. It’s all I can do to keep breathing. “Yes.”

His fingers wrap around my cock—no. Around us both. Encircling us together in a welcome prison of heat and friction.

And he strokes.

The pleasure hits me in a wave so hard, so strong, I crack my head back against the tree. “Holy shit.”

“Thought you might like that.” He melds his mouth to mine, and strokes again. This time, he adds a little press of his hips, so I get the friction of his abdomen and his cock and his fingers against my taut, tender skin. Triple pleasure, so much sensation it’s all I can do to hold onto my sanity, let alone the orgasm that’s welling up inside me.

“Olli, Olli,” I groan, tearing my fingers into my hair, my head back against the tree, seeing stars instead of sky. “I’m gonna come.”

“It’s okay, baby,” he murmurs against my jaw as his lips dance their way down my skin. As his fingers stroke and his hips thrust and the heat builds between us. “Let it go. Let it happen.”

His pace increases. His mouth stutters down my throat. “Come for me, Mouse.”

I do.

I let go.

I come.

I shatter.

I nearly black out, it’s so hard and heavy, so all-encompassing, the way my entire body, entire being, gives itself to that orgasm.

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