Page 26 of Breaking the Lawyer

"Never been more sure of anything in my life."

He walks across the balcony to where a lounge chair sits in the corner. I watch every step, mesmerized by the way his body moves in the moonlight. The play of muscle under skin. The confident stride that somehow manages to be both predatory and graceful.

God, I want him.

He grabs a blanket from the chair—soft-looking, probably cashmere or some other rich-person fabric—and turns back toward me. Even in the dim light, I can see everything clearly.The broad expanse of his chest. The defined lines of his abs. The way his dick juts out from his body, thick and hard and already leaking.

My own dick throbs in response, and I have to resist the urge to touch myself.

"Come here," he says, spreading the blanket on the floor.

I move toward him on shaky legs, hyperaware of my own nakedness, of the way his eyes track my movements. When I'm close enough, he pulls me down into a kiss that's all heat and desperation.

We sink onto the blanket together, and suddenly we're grinding against each other, skin on skin, his cock sliding against mine.

The first contact nearly makes me black out.

Holy shit. Holy shit.

The friction is incredible. Electric. His cock is hot and hard against mine, and when he shifts his hips, the slide of skin on skin sends shockwaves through my entire nervous system.

"Jesus," I gasp, my hands flying to his shoulders for something to hold onto.

He's panting against my neck, his breath hot on my skin.

I can't form words. Can't think. Can only feel the way his dick moves against mine, the way our pre-cum mixes together, making everything slick and perfect and overwhelming.

I thrust up instinctively, and we both make these desperate sounds that probably wake the neighbors. But I don't care. I can't care about anything except the way he feels pressed against me, the way his cock throbs against mine with every movement.

"Fuck," he breathes, and I can feel his smile against my throat. "Look at you."

I want to tell him to look at himself, but I'm too busy losing my mind. Every nerve ending in my body is on fire, and I'm already so close to the edge it's embarrassing. This is supposed to be foreplay, right? Not the main event. But the way he's moving against me, the way he's making these soft, desperate sounds...

Fuck it.

"I'm gonna come," I warn him, because I can feel my balls drawing up, that familiar tightness building in my spine.

"Not yet," he says, and then he's slowing down, changing the angle, making it less intense but somehow more intimate. "We have time."

Time. Right. We have time.

Except I don't want time. I want this. I want him. I want to come with his cock pressed against mine, want to feel him lose control the same way I am.

But he's already pulling back slightly, breaking the contact, and I actually whimper at the loss.

"Easy," he laughs, but there's strain in his voice too.

Easy for him to say. He's not the one discovering a whole new dimension of pleasure.

Christian rolls off me and I force myself to still, shoving my hands under my ass so I won't be tempted to touch. "Show me," I manage, my voice rough with need.

He reaches into his discarded pants and pulls out a small bottle of lube and a condom. The sight of them makes my heart race even faster, makes this whole thing feel suddenly real.

"You sure about this?" he asks, settling next to me.

I nod, not trusting my voice.

"Look at me, Brooks."

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