Page 55 of Hired By the Enemy
We’re kissing with an intensity that leaves me breathless.
As we break the kiss, I look into Matthew’s blue eyes. He’s staring back at me with a look I’ve never seen before. It’s like he’s searching for something.
And whatever he’s looking for, he seems to find it in my expression because his searching look settles, and he leans forward to kiss me again.
I kiss Matthew back with everything I have. Because all our endless snipping and pranking each other growing up wasn’t harmless, I can see that now. We left each other damaged.
But somehow, this feels like we’re repairing some of the damage. Every kiss, every touch, we’re undoing some of the hurt between us.
“Liam,” he says, his voice hoarse as I stroke the planes of his back.
“I need you.” My voice sounds just as raw.
“You’ve got me,” he says.
Our cocks are hard as we move against each other. Pleasure shoots through me as Matthew places his hand around both of us. I put my hand down there, too, and the feeling of us sliding against each other is almost more than I can bear.
But I still want more.
“Can you fuck me?” I ask.
I don’t bottom often, but I trust Matthew.
I trust him to make it good.
Matthew pulls back to look at my face. Our gazes meet, locking together. He nods wordlessly.
As I expected, he’s gentle as he preps me, continuing to kiss me the entire time.
“I’m ready.” I wrench my mouth away from his, and the word comes out almost as a groan as I roll over.
When he finally lines up and starts to press inside, I take a deep breath and try to relax my muscles.
This is Matthew.
Matthew, who was my enemy for so long.
Matthew, who now is making me feel complete as he slowly slides inside me.
“Oh my god, Liam, you’re…” He stops when he bottoms out, placing a kiss on my shoulder. He doesn’t complete the sentence. I don’t know if I want him to or not.
He begins to move slowly, and it’s everything. He rocks inside me in a steady rhythm that hits the spot every time. He peppers my shoulders with kisses as he moves.
It’s the most gentle sex I’ve ever had, so different from our usual frenetic pace.
Then, suddenly, he withdraws from me, leaving me empty. I whimper a protest, but he’s tugging me onto my side.
“Turn over,” he says.
I oblige, and then he’s back inside me, staring down at me as I hook my legs around his waist.
Our eye contact feels more personal than the fact he’s inside me.
“Need to kiss you,” he says, leaning forward.
And we’re kissing, long, lingering kisses that match the pace he’s moving inside me.
This is not about chasing orgasms. This is about something else.
