Page 76 of The Best Men
As I thrust, adrenaline spins higher in my cells, and I ask in a dirty growl, “You want it hard, Mark?”
“I do,” he grits out.
“You want me to pound you into the mattress?”
He pushes up again, his face meeting mine, inches away. “Nail me.”
“With so much fucking pleasure,” I say, and then I rise up between his thighs, push his knees to his chest and I pound the fuck out of the other best man.
We are nothing but groans and grunts.
The world narrows to the slap of flesh, the beads of sweat, the moans as we fuck.
It’s the thing I never expected to happen between us. But strange things do happen in Florida. Like this kind of sex. Wild, passionate, bold.
His eyes squeeze shut, and his mouth falls open as he reaches for his cock.
No way. “I’ll get you there,” I demand as I take over, wrapping a palm around his thick shaft, my hand flying. I give him everything he asked for.
Turns out it’s everything I want too.
The vein pulses in his neck, like an orgasm beacon. His features twist with that relentless press of delicious agony. He pushes up, wraps one strong hand around the back of my head, and crushes his lips to mine for a few delirious seconds before he lets go.
Then rasps out the sexiest words ever . . .“Fuck yes.”
He shoots all over my hand and his stomach. And my whole body overheats, my brain a static haze of bliss as I follow him there with a heady rush.
Panting, I fall onto his chest, his release smearing all over me. “Holy . . .”
I can’t even finish the thought.
And I’m not sure I should say what I’m starting to think:Was that as good for you as it was for me? Because you are the best adventure I’ve ever had in bed . . .
That wouldn’t even be post-orgasmic hyperbole.
It’s just the truth.
* * *
A few minutes later, we’re in the shower, cleaning off chlorine and climaxes.
I’m still not sure what to say, because too many thoughts are bumper cars in my head.Does it hurt? Did you like it? I mean, I know you liked it, but did you like it as much as . . . the other sex you’ve had? And are we still on for tomorrow night too?And, holy fuck, how did I not notice the first time we met how fucking sexy you are? Or how much I’d relish being your first?
I keep that all to myself and try to focus on the safest way to ease any post-sex weirdness he might feel.
“So, sliding scale of hotness for fucking you,” I muse, as I run the soap over my chest one more time while he rinses his hair. “I’m going with ultra-hot.”
He just smiles, a little drowsily. “Sounds about right.”
I turn off the shower, and when we’ve dried off, I usher him back to my bed, pull up the comforter, and glance at the clock. It’s past midnight, and I’m too blissed out to do much more than yawn and plant a kiss on his shoulder.
“Hey, Banks,” I murmur.
“Yeah?”
“I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”
He tenses, and I run a hand down his arm. “Why is there a fifty percent chance of two people in any group of twenty-three having the same birthday?”
