Page 84 of The Revenge Game
His blue-green eyes search mine. “I just… I want this to be good for you.”
“Trust me, you’re doing great so far.”
His cheek dimples at the corner. “Am I achieving a B-plus?”
“More like an A-plus. And I grade on a curve.”
He grins.
The teasing seems to relax him, so I decide to continue the lighthearted vibe.
“Though I do have one complaint,” I say.
His eyebrows shoot up. “What’s that?”
“You’re still wearing far too many clothes.”
His resulting laugh vibrates through me. “That’s definitely something we can fix.”
We continue to undress each other as if we’re participating in an extreme sport where style points don’t matter and enthusiasm counts double.
Justin’s hands continue to shake as he helps me out of my shirt. His pants tangle around his ankles while I nearly topple off the couch, trying to free myself from my sweatpants.
I can’t help stiffening as his eyes rake down me.
Because we’re both naked now, and the contrast between us could not be more obvious. My scrawny body contrasted against the most perfect specimen of masculinity ever produced.
But Justin doesn’t seem to be focusing on that. His eyes are full of wonder as they take me in.
“You’re gorgeous,” he says softly.
“Have you ever been diagnosed with an eyesight problem?” I ask.
Justin gives another soft laugh.
He reaches a hesitant hand toward my cock, which is not being particularly subtle about how turned on I am right now.
But before he touches it, he gazes back up to meet my eyes.
“You need to tell me if I’m doing anything wrong,” he says.
“What? Do you think that because I’m out, I must be some kind of sex expert?”
The smile that overtakes his face is somewhat sheepish.
“Yeah, I guess.”
I can’t help the smile on my own face. “Pretty sure there’s no gay certification program. Though that would make an interesting addition to LinkedIn.”
Justin’s resulting laugh comes out shaky, but some of the tension leaves his shoulders.
My breath hitches when he wraps those perfect fingers around my cock so gently it almost undoes me completely.
Oh my god. This man’s touch could ruin me.
He explores me slowly with just the right pressure, his thumb catching the sensitive spot under the head that makes my toes curl. His other hand splays across my stomach, steadying me as I writhe under his touch.
Holy hell, I have to touch him back.
