Page 29 of Misconduct Zone

“Mmmhmm.” I have reduced him to sounds, and my head swells with pride.

“That’s it. Take what you need. Fuck my fist.” I murmur Swedish words of endearment that are too precious to say in English.

“Come for me. Let me taste you,” I grunt, and my arm shakes with the effort to hold myself up while his hand glides alongside mine.

He keens, calling my name, and spurts into my hand. His hazel eyes collide with mine, and they’re filled with green meadows, a thousand stars, and deep adoration. His mouth opens in a silent scream as elation overtakes him, and those stars multiply and twinkle in his blissful eyes. I’ll never find anything as beautiful as him. I come so hard my legs shake, and I collapse on top of him.

“That was…that was…fuck. Please tell me we can do that again. In like twenty minutes. Get some damn electrolytes and let’s goooooooo.” He says it like a South American announcer at a profotbollmatch when the team scores.

“Käraste, there are so many more things we can do, but tonight we will do that again. Sleep here?”

“I live here,” he responds dryly.

“In my bed, you pain in the ass.” I grin, bringing my hand to my mouth and licking. My eyes roll back with his salty, musky taste. One more lick and I could get addicted.

“You’ll have to physically kick me out.” He grabs my wrist and tastes our cum. “So this is what all the fuss is about,” he teases, and I pull my hand away. “Gimme that. You’ve had this so many more times than me, so you should share.”

If he only knew that my experience is severely limited, but I will give him whatever he wants. “Next time you can suck it out of me.”

“Fuck yeah!” His tongue darts out and laps up the cum between my fingers. “Let’s see who can recover first.”

Chapter 17

Dylon

Ididn’t picture Lars as a cuddler, but the man held me all night long like I was the most precious thing he’s ever touched. We were up all night and couldn’t keep our hands off each other to sleep. I may never sleep again. How could I when he’s right there—so warm and hard and fucking incredible? A guy could get used to this.

Lars stands naked in the middle of his room, scrolling. He’s a captivating modern-day sculpture: Man On His Phone. “Since we are up, let’s get this date started.”

“Ugh, MSA, noooooo.” I smash my head into the pillow. “Too early.”

His naked weight settles over my back, and I push my butt up. Lars kisses my ear. “None of that. You’re insatiable. We’ll have to experiment to see what it takes to wear you out and dry you up.” I’m nodding at his words.

Sex has been good and achieved the goal in the past, but not this ravenous hunger where I can’t get enough of someone. Maybe I’m lucky for figuring this out or unlucky for how long it took. All my brain power has diverted to planning how we can have quickies on the road.

“What does MSA mean?” His breath fans over the back of my neck, making the little hairs stick up. Every part of my body stands up for him.

“My Swedish Adonis. You’re human perfection.” I shrug and can’t resist a little teasing. “I was going to go for MHHBL, but that’s too many letters.”

“Hmm.” He weaves our fingers together and pulls our hands over my head. “And what does that mean?”

“My hunka hunka burning love, of course.”

“What am I going to do with you?” His lips move on my shoulder as he speaks into my skin. “Those letters are banned from your lips.” His teeth sink into my shoulder, and I shudder.

“Fine. No cool code nicknames.” I rotate my hips and buck up. “As I said last night, I watched some gay porn so I got lots of ideas.”

“Do you really want to skip date day?” he asks, and I hear his desire to make me happy mixed with a tinge of disappointment.

“No. Give me the full Lars date treatment. Wine and dine me, baby.” I say “baby” as a joke, but the man melts on top of me as if he’s become a pile of goo. I commit that to memory.

“It’s an unusually warm day, and there’s an open-air yoga class in Central Park.” He brings our joined hands to his mouth and kisses my knuckles.

“That sounds…” Words escape how thoughtful it is. He’ll practice yoga with me, but he’s not flexible. Too uptight, I tell him. But I love that he’s doing it for me.

“We can do something else.” He takes my silence as rejection.

“I love it. Sorry, I was picturing you in downward dog and how hard it’s going to be not to bite your ass.” I chuckle.

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