Page 183 of Jaded

But he’s not looking at my face. Not anymore. Not as his fingers trail down my sides, leaving a wide wake of goosebumps in their path. Not as he toys with the button of my pants. “Can I touch you?”

“I might internally combust, but yes, please, please touch me.”

He laughs, soft, more like a breath, and tugs my pants apart, drags them down my legs. And then it’s his fingers on me, sliding down the curve of my cock, over the dampened cloth of my underwear.

I’m not even sure which of us draws in a sharp breath, like a stunted gasp. Maybe both of us. Maybe just me, because the press of his fingers, even through that cloth, is almost more than I can handle. My hips push up into his touch, and I can’t tear my gaze from his face, from the way he’s looking down, studying his own hand on my cock.

Then he pulls my underwear down.

And I’m on his bed, naked, cock leaking onto my abdomen, lying at Nat Taylor’s knees. He stares at me for a moment—like he actually thinks I’m as beautiful as he previously proclaimed.

He shimmies out of his own boxers, kicks them to the floor. So we’re both naked, staring at each other, maybe both a little nervous of what comes next. Both wanting it so, so badly.

So obviously.

He leans down over me again, caging me in between his elbows as he lowers his naked body against mine. And this time, when we meld together, it’s bare skin on bare skin, him and me, nothing between us. And it’s everything. Heat and want and hardness, all of us.

Like he’s used up every last ounce of resistance, he crushes his mouth to mine. And like I’ve used up every last ounce of mine, I kiss him back with everything I’ve got. My hips rut into him, and I curl a knee over his ass, reveling in that brush of bare skin. And when he presses back, my God, that friction.

Us—here, now—this is everything.

I give in to the sensation of him. For once in my life, I stop thinking, questioning, wondering, if it’s right, if it’s wrong, if there’ll be consequences.

For once in my life, I’m just here.

Me. Olli. Olli and Nat. Aspen and Mouse.

Bare skin and wet mouths, tangled tongues, rutting hips, and friction that sends tingles of pleasure up my cock, through my torso, fuzzes out my brain.

How long will I last? But maybe it doesn’t matter, because the way he’s rutting into me, I can’t imagine he’ll last long ei—

“More,” he murmurs, breaking off the kiss to lick at the shell of my ear. “I want more.”

“Good.” I gasp as his tongue slips down my neck and his lips suck at my pulse. “’Cause I definitely for sure, one hundred percent want more.”

“I want all of you,” he says, whispers, against my skin. “Everything.”

“You’re going to fuck me, right? Please say yes.”

He laughs against my throat. “Yes. But since I’m such an inexperienced newbie and everything, you’re going to tell me what to do.”

“Oh, my God, you’re adorable.” I nip at his mouth, because I kind of love being the one who has to shut somebody else up, for once, instead of the other way around. I’m also very glad I prepped before dinner. “Please tell me you have condoms. And lube?”

“Yes.” He starts to pull away, pauses. “But I want you to stay right here.”

His lips press to mine. Tongue licks inside my mouth. And his hand drops between us to curl around my cock. “I want you to stay right here and think of me.”

“As if—” I gasp as those fingers stroke up, down, up again. “As if I could think of anyone else.”

His free hand circles my right wrist, and he lifts it—to replace his hand on my cock. “I want to watch you touch yourself while you think about me.”

“Yessir.” My voice is husky, hoarse.

“Good.” He stands up, leaving me cold and wanting, my hand literally shaking on my own cock. He slides open the bedside table to lift something from the top—guess not being demi means your supplies reside a little closer to the surface than mine do.

He tosses a condom onto the bed beside me, starts to open the lube—

“I can do that.” I reach for the bottle. “The prep, I mean. And you can either watch me or not, up to you.”

---