Page 40 of Not That Ridiculous

“Let me touch you, Charlie. Tell me I can, all right? I want to. Can I?” The hand I’d smacked away from my dick out of pure surprise was flexing on my thigh. He was waiting for permission.

I twisted towards him and moaned into his mouth.

He made one of his rough sounds back at me, and dragged his teeth over my bottom lip, but he didn’t touch me.

“Tell me I can, Charlie,” he whispered. “You gotta tell me.”

I blinked my eyes open and looked directly into his.

That was a mistake.

His cheeks were dark, his eyes were focused and intense and he looked like nothing would get in his way.

Except it would. He was waiting for permission, which meant I had toaskfor it.

He spread his fingers wide, holding my gaze, and slowly rubbed his thumb up and down. Not touching my aching dick. Juuuust to the side of it.

The muscles in my stomach went weak then tensed, then weak again. I clutched at him, my hands opening and closing on his sides.

“I think you really want me to,” he said, shifting restlessly between my legs. “And I really want to do it. Let me, Charlie. I want your cock in my hand. Tell me I can have it.”

Was this normal, this kind of talk? I had a very limited dataset to compare it to. It could be positively pedestrian when it came to sex. This could be nothing more than the entirely vanilla expression of desire that I’d always imagined for Kevin.

Sure as shit didn’t feel vanilla, though.

If I was any more turned on by this man, I was going to orgasm on the spot, and that would about finish me off.

“Yes,” I choked. “Please.”

He didn’t grab at me, even though the tight, intense look on his face said he was at his limit. He slid his hand slowly over my thigh to where my erection was getting strangled by my slim-fit black trousers. Too slowly. I couldn’t help pushing into it.

He cupped his big hand over my groin again. There was something bewilderingly graceful about the way he did it. Sensual. I’d dropped my chin and was staring down between us, barely able to process what I was seeing. Not much—we were pressed tightly together. He was making it difficult for himself by leaning his full weight against me, really having to squeeeeeeze his hand between our bodies. The sight of the flexing tendons in his strong wrist was still a lot.

He tipped my chin up and kissed me again. I puffed a startled breath through my nose when I felt his fingers working at my waistband.

He stilled. “Yeah?” he said.

“Yes.”

He slipped my button loose, had my zipper down and his hand in my trousers before I could even process it.

“Uhn,” he said, the sound punched out of him. “Oh, Charlie.”

My knees wobbled as he took hold of me in a confident grip and just held me. He rubbed his thumb over the damp head and I jerked against him with a whine.

“Oh,” he said again. “You feel amazing.”

I did?

“Yeah,” he said, and gave me a single long, firm pull. “This is nice. Fuck, it’s nice. Knew it would be.”

He nudged my chin to one side and put his mouth on my neck.

I pushed my hips greedily into his hand. His teeth scraped over my skin, and I jumped when he nipped me.

“Kevin,” I said.

“Yeah.” He stroked me again—another long, firm pull. This time he added a twist of his palm over the head.

---