Page 103 of Maybe We Can Fake It

His eyes search mine like he’s trying to make sense of that, but fuck, I thought it was obvious by now.

I grab his waist gently. “Tell me what you want.”

A blush blooms on his cheeks, spreading rapidly down his neck. But he doesn’t sound shy at all when he says, “Can I fuck you?”

Oh, hell yes.

I almost laugh at something as simple as this being the thing he was hesitant to ask for. If he didn’t, I would have asked for it eventually.

When he starts to look nervous again, I realize I didn’t give him an answer out loud, so I hurry to correct that. “Yes. Fuck yes, baby. I want that.”

“You do? But have you ever...?”

“Yeah, I have. I’m vers. I’m sorry if I should’ve told you that right away. I just thought we’d figure things out as we go.”

A grin slowly spreads across his face. And while I haven’t forgotten that he came to me upset, and I still want him to talk to me about it more, I’m taking this as a small victory. Putting that look on his face makes me feel like I did something right. Even if all I did was offer him something that I want just as much as him.

“Wow,” he says around a tiny, pleased laugh. “I can’t believe this.”

“Why not?” I ask, rubbing a circle over his hip. “I know bottoming isn’t for everyone, but what made you think I wouldn’t do it?”

He cringes. “I don’t know. I guess I suck for stereotyping. But most guys I’ve dated who look like you usually scoff or laugh at me when I ask to top them.”

The thought of him with other men makes the feral beast hiding inside me rise up. I resist the urge to take him and claim him right now—only becausehewants to do the taking.

“Well, I’m not them, am I?” I tell him. “It sounds like you’ve been with the wrong guys.”

And hopefully you won’t be with anyone but me from now on, I add silently.

The look he gives me is filled with awe and want and need. He leans down and our mouths come together again. This time, rather than yanking at my clothes, he works me out of them purposefully while I do the same to him. He said he needed to get his frantic energy out, but it doesn’t seem frantic anymore. It feels laser-focused on me now.

Once we’re both naked, he slides down my body and takes me in his mouth without using his hands. His nails dig into my hips as he sucks and licks. Then he pulls off my cock and uses one hand to hold it up and out of the way as he moves his attention down to my balls.

It’s all I can to do to keep my hips on the mattress, to not wrestle to get him under me. I want this, and I’m more than happy to let him have me however he wants me. But the anticipation is killing me.

“Come on, more,” I urge him, bordering on demanding it.

His head pops up to shoot me a look that’s clearly meant to remind me he’s the one in charge this time. So I lie back and enjoy the torture. Thankfully, he doesn’t make me wait any longer before he starts massaging my hole. He pushes at the back of one of my thighs, and I bend my leg for him, giving him better access.

“Lube,” he says.

I jerk my head toward the nightstand, and when he opens the drawer, he lets out a surprised gasp. It takes me a moment to realize what he must have found.

He holds it up, eyes darting gleefully between me and the thin prostate massager. “Oh my god.”

Unabashed, I tell him, “Hope that proves I like things in my ass.”

With a sexy little growl, he drops the toy onto the mattress and lunges for me, kissing me like his life depends on it. “You’re perfect,” he mutters between kisses. “Fucking perfect.”

The praise lights me up inside. That’s never been my thing before. But then again, I’ve never had Brenden Sanderson telling me I’m perfect before, have I?

“Can I?” he asks, grabbing the massager again.

I spread my legs wider for him in answer. He gets the lube and a condom out of the drawer, then shimmies down the bed again, resituating himself between my thighs. He starts with one finger, which I take easily, so he soon adds a second one.

Then he asks, “More?” And he barely waits for my nod before he’s got three fingers buried inside me, fucking me roughly with them.

My aching cock is begging for some relief, so I reach down and wrap a hand around it, stroking myself slowly. I almost expect him to stop me, but all he does is fix my cock and hand with an intense stare.

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