Page 93 of Take My Breath Away
The haze descends, and thickens.
I’m on him in a second, just as he’s on me. Our kisses are hard and frantic as we feed on each other. The hallway echoes with our groans and gasps, our panting, ragged breath. He humps hard against me, the drag of our cocks wrenching a tattered moan from deep in my chest. But it’s not enough. I need to be inside him, I need to fill him up, I need to hear him gasp my name as I empty myself into him. I have to slake the thirst that’s burning through me.
My eyes lock with his. There’s an urgency about him I’ve never seen before, but every inch of it’s a match for my own. His eyes narrow and his lips turn upwards and it’s there again, that challenge daring me to make the next move.
I do.
Grabbing him away from the wall, I see a moment’s surprise spark in his eyes as I shove him down to his hands and knees, knocking a loudommphffrom him. He turns his head and looks up at me, grinning as he begins to rock backwards and forwards. His high, tight arse is a provocation, a taunt, and a low rumbling growl, primitive and brutal, rises in the back of my throat as I drop to my knees.
Clamping my hands to his arse cheeks, I force them apart, exposing his pink hole. Flicking the tip of my tongue over his entrance, I’m rewarded by Perry’s low groan. His muscle flutters, his moans grow thin and needy as I kiss and suck and lave my tongue all along his crease, from the base of his balls back to his hole, my tongue circling and probing, pushing through his resistance. I breathe him in deep, drenching and saturating my senses in his intoxicating, musky scent. With one hand, I find my dick. Swiping my thumb over my cockhead, I hiss as every one of my nerves explode into life.
Below me, Perry’s panting hard. He’s saying something, too, but it’s slurred and incomprehensible. He’s drunk, just as I am, not only on alcohol but with the insatiable need to fuck and rut and screw, as mindless as animals.
I spit into my hand, slathering my dick, saliva and precum mixing in a wet sticky mess. Clutching his arse, I spread him wide. His head’s fallen forward and he’s breathing so hard it’s almost a grunt. He turns and stares at me, feral and wild, his grin not a smile but a snarl. I line up and in one savage thrust I push into him, squeezing my eyes closed.
Perry’s shuddering cry fills the hallway, the whole house, and stripping away the dense fog of lust that’s possessing me. I freeze.
This is wrong… I’m using him like I’ve used every other man… He’s not every other man… I can’t…
I won’t use him like he’s nothing, not when he’s everything.
Everything I don’t deserve.
Inside him, I begin to soften.
“No.” One word, hard and angry, pushed out through Perry’s gritted teeth.
My eyes snap open. His face is unreadable and mask-like. I shudder, I can’t help it. I’ve never seen him like this. Something slithers and turns in my stomach, because I don’t like it, it’s wrong, it’s not who he—
He shoves his arse back with force, riding my cock, and against the friction, I harden. Every rational thought deserts me as I respond, thrusting into his tight heat.
I hammer into him, every surge tinged with violence. Our panting, shredded breaths, our moans and cries, ricochet from wall to wall. I pound him hard, the slap of flesh on flesh deliciously obscene. Perry’s cry, high and keening, shivers through me as I find and pummel his prostate. I’m laughing, or crying or maybe it’s a mix of the two as a tiny voice breaks through the fog that this istoo much, too much, too much, before it fades as though it never was.
He’s close, I feel it in his broken, erratic rhythm. My hands are welded to his hips, but I snake one between his legs, my palm wrapping around his hand, frantically jacking his own dick.
It’s the touch that pushes him over the edge and with a shudder and a broken breath he releases, coating our hands with hot, slick cum. His release is the starting pistol for my own climax as my balls tighten and tingle and my dick swells, buried deep in Perry’s arse. I screw my eyes closed as I grunt out my orgasm, pumping wave after wave of semen deep inside him.
My dick, softening and wet, slips from Perry, and I collapse onto my back. I’m breathing hard, my chest rising and falling as I chase lungfuls of air. The fog’s beginning to thin and break.
I turn my head to say something, anything, but Perry’s already on his feet, grabbing his jeans and shoes, his gaze averted, his face wet with more than sweat. My tongue cleaves to the roof of my mouth, rendering me dumb, and all I can do is stare as he rushes away and up the stairs, as the house all but shakes from the hard bang of a door that I somehow know doesn’t belong to the bedroom we share.
On the hard wooden floor, I’m as limp and lifeless as a rag doll. My skin’s burning but an icy hand plunges into my chest and clutches at my heart as I squeeze my eyes closed as I try, and fail, to block out the shame of who and what I am.
Chapter Forty-Two
JAMES
Climbing out of the bed I’ve slept in alone, I stumble into the shower. My head’s hammering and I feel sick, but it’s got nothing to do with the booze from last night’s party. I have to speak to Perry and try to explain, although how in God’s name I’m going to do that I have no idea.
It’s not you, it’s me…Bitter laughter bubbles on my tongue, that clichéd line that’s never been more true. Because this is me, this is who I am and always will be. As I think of the man who’s sleeping away from my arms, all I want to do is weep for what I believed I could have. I lied to myself, but I won’t lie to Perry.
Sunday morning, and I have to go into work. A shit storm’s hovering on the horizon. Angry headlines and a public baying for blood, if the storm dumps its load. My role, along with a small group of others, is damage limitation. Heads will roll, but fewer of them. I don’t want to go, but I’ve no choice.
On the landing, I listen hard, but there’s no sign of Perry stirring, and I’m glad because in this moment I don’t think I have the courage to face him. For now, I have to manage an angry, frightened, and cornered government minister, loathed and loved in equal measure by the public. It’s nothing to what I’ll face later, when I get home.
I creep downstairs, and let myself out, clicking the door closed quietly behind me as I slip away into the grey drizzle of a London winter’s day.
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