Page 209 of Cloudy With a Chance of Bad Decisions

Around and around andaroundwe went. We made a detour into the living room for a time, scrambling up and over the couch—before returning to the kitchen to finish our battle where it had started. By that point, the water on my hands had long since dried, and my only goal was capturing my wriggling, giggling blond.

My heart was pounding for more than one reason by the time I found success.

“Got you!” I caught George by the hips. His body was quaking with glee—and these snort-y giggles shook his entire chest. They were as endearing as they were attractive. Imperfect in the most wonderful way. Eager to tastehis snorts for myself, I yanked him through the air and up onto the kitchen island with a grunt. My hands slid across his cheeks and into his wavy golden hair, holding him captive while I pulled him into a ravenous, lingering kiss.

George tasted like sunshine, happiness, and peace.

Like someone who cared too much, who loved too hard, who needed to be accepted just as he was. He tasted like the kind of solid, loyal love I’d stop believing in—like short-shorts in the summer, shared pleasure, and domesticity.

Suffice to say, he tasted amazing.

Soamazingmy goddamn toes curled, the heat in between my legs simmering, then climbing high, wrapping tight around my dancing heart.

George’s giggles softened, the heavy bursts of his breath growing quiet as he moaned into the kiss. Delightfully strong fingers curled in the back of my matching t-shirt, tugging me closer. His heels dug into the back of my thighs. I growled.Deeper, deeper,I licked, unable to get enough of him.

We didn’t stop kissing.

Not when I yanked him into my arms. Not when I walked us up the stairs to my bedroom. Not when I laid him down on the sheets, crawling between the sprawl of his long, bare legs—the place that had quickly become my personal slice of heaven.

There was no need for foreplay.

No drive to play the games we both normally enjoyed.

Without anything to hide behind there was nothing but raw need between us. A mutual desperation to get as close as two people could possibly get. To be bare with no walls or obstacles in our way.

The lube was close, which was a relief, because even the brief separation from George’s pouty mouth felt too long.

Too long to be away from him.

George was fully naked when I returned from gathering lube in the nightstand. I settled back inside the space between his legs. His t-shirt hadbeen tossed haphazardly at the end of the bed along with the too-large boxer briefs he’d borrowed.

His hands were demanding when I leaned into his space, lube bottle in hand. He wasted no time yanking my shirt over my head, and my underwear down my legs so that we matched, skin against skin.

Once more, with enthusiasm, he parted those lovely legs for me—welcoming my touch. I pressed into him, an undeniable sense of rightness settling over me as our hips slotted together. George’s hole was fluttery and inviting as I stretched him with lubed fingers, sipping kisses from his lips with open desire.

“Enough,” George murmured a few minutes later, voice vibrating with need. “It’s enough. I need?—”

“Me too.” I scrambled to do as I was told.

When I finally pushed my dick inside, he gasped. That was it. A simple,gloriousgasp. A gasp I tasted—along with the butter from our breakfast. It wasn’t perfect by any means. We were still sleepy and sex-rumpled from the night before. Sweat-damp from our impromptu battle with dark circles beneath our eyes. I wasn’t the perfect male specimen I always attempted to project myself to be.

I wasn’t a son.

Wasn’t a brother.

Wasn’t a wallet.

Wasn’t wearing a mask.

Wasn’t pretending to be someone else—simply because I needed to.

Wasn’t scrambling to fit in, or stick out, or please—or perform.

My barricades demolished, all that was left was…me.

Alex.

Sweaty,imperfect, needy Alex.

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