Page 93 of Not That Ridiculous

I wrapped my arms around him and leaned up to reach his lips. He was propped on an elbow and tipped to one side, and I squeezed my eyes shut when I heard an unfamiliar little sound that was probably the?—

Something squelched.

That was definitely the lubricant.

I mashed my mouth against Kevin’s quickly. I hadn’t even had a poke around back there myself—if I couldn’t fully unpack my moving boxes for two years or even fix the fucking hole in my bathroom, I thought defensively, where the hell would I find the time to lounge around erotically exploring myself?

I realised that my kiss had turned aggressive when Kevin growled and pushed back. I went limp.

And that was when he stroked a firm hand down my side, around and under my thigh, and briskly poked my arsehole.

I snatched my mouth away from his and glared at him. “What was that?” I demanded.

He poked me again, with a little grin.

“Ahhh,” I said, and gripped his arm.

“Something wrong?”

I hissed in a breath and yanked at him, trying to dislodge his hand. “You’d better be messing with me, Kevin Wallis,” I snapped. “Because I don’t think that’s how you fing?—”

“I’m messing with you,” he said. “I just wanted to make sure I could see your pretty eyes when I do this.”

“I do not have pretty eyes,” I began, then caught my breath and our gazes locked as he moved his hand and stroked gently but with very definite intent over my hole. “Oh,” I said softly.

His lids dropped and he flexed his hand, stroking again. Insistent. No hesitation whatsoever.

“Uhn,” I said.

“Feel good?” He circled my hole, did it again using what felt like the pads of two fingers, then rested one finger on the bullseye and pushed a little.

“Mm-hmm,” I said.

“Yeah? You like that?” He rubbed. “Charlie?”

I’d closed my eyes, and at that I opened them and looked right into his.

The moment I did, he pushed inside.

“Pop,” he said.

I stared at him blankly for a moment, then laughed. “You dick,” I said, and smacked his shoulder.

He grinned at me. Sighing happily, he began to move his finger. “Thank you for letting me pop your cherry, Charlie. It means the world.”

“You know that popping things isn’t actually real, right?” I said, my hands opening and closing on his sides as he thrust gently.

“Probably know more about it than you do,” he said mildly.

“Point taken.” I shifted my hips restlessly and bent my knees to set my feet flat on the bed.

Kevin kissed me quickly and pushed back up to kneeling. He gripped my hips and dragged me onto his lap, giving my dick a casual, passing stroke, then slid his finger back inside. He was gentle but not tentative, thrusting firmly and working it about.

I stared down my body. I wasn’t sure how thrilled I was to be exposed like this—face up, legs spread, erection flopping about.

Kevin, on the other hand, was clearly entranced.

Which wasweird.

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