Page 66 of ILY
And it’s true. I want in that again. Besides lying on the bed with vertigo and an upset stomach, most of the day I spent wondering when I was going to be able to fuck him again.
I’ve been in a constant state of hard since I sat up in bed and rummaged through a few boxes downstairs.
Now, all my dreams are going to come true.
I pull him into me and kiss him roughly, feeling the moan he makes rumble through my chest. It only makes me hold on to him tighter.
“Upstairs,” I say, and Leaf nods.
“But if we find a gigantic box of lube, we’ll just fuck right here.”
I arch an eyebrow, and he shrugs. “What? I mean it. It’s convenient.”
“I’m not using a hundred-year-old lube, Leaf.”
“Why not? Doesn’t it get better with age? Or is that wine?”
I put my arm around his waist and tug, pulling him upstairs. I refuse for him to search through any more boxes, trying to find something that will work as lubricant.
We have some in the bedroom anyway. There’s no need to go scouring. We aren’t Michael.
When the door swings shut behind us, I use my momentum to propel him onto the bed. He flops down on it, and I follow him, our lips meeting as we quickly divest each other of our clothes.
When we’re both naked, we rut against each other, our bodies overheated, our skin stained with a constant flush.
“Unf.Yes,” I hear him moan as I pull his legs up over my shoulders and use his ass as a sleeve. It’s really perfect. Just the right size to drive me wild. Or maybe that’s just Leaf. The way he looks beneath me, his hair askew, his head thrown back, his eyes screwed shut.
I want them on me, so I lean forward and tap him on the chest.
His eyelids flutter open, and he meets my stare. “What?” he asks, and I lick across his lips.
“Look at me.”
His lashes flutter, and I reach over and grab the lube, wanting to enter him. Wanting to just be inside of him.
The first time was amazing, the way he felt clenching around my cock. But I think the second time might be even better. I think he’s going to make each time a memory not to be forgotten.
I wet my fingers and drag them along his crack, swirling a fingertip around his rim. His hips arch up, and I know he’s using my shoulders as leverage.
He wants this. He wants it so fucking bad.
I watch his face as I push a finger inside of him. The way his lips part, the way his Adam’s apple bobs. He loves it, being breached by me.
I push in further. He arches his hips up once more, wanting me in deeper, so I give it to him, knuckle-deep, until he’s writhing against me.
Then I add a second and scissor him open.
By the time his hole is ready for my cock, just the sight of him has me near the edge. Once I’m inside of him, I won’t last long.
I remove my fingers, then slot my hard length at his hole, asking for permission with my eyes. Leaf nods when he meets my gaze, and I push forward slowly, an inch at a time, reveling in how well he takes me. How that rim just expands until I’m bottomed out.
Leaf is holding his legs against his chest, his own cock hard against his abdomen, inviting me to touch, and I respond immediately. Reaching down, I stroke him, making him cry out loud enough that I can hear it, the desperation in his voice.
“More?” I ask, and he nods frantically.
I pull my hips back until only the tip sits just past his rim, and then I thrust into him. It’s slow at first, a rhythm that I know he can take. But then he starts to get angry, his legs pulled further back, his hips trying to meet my slow-rolling hips. I know what his body is begging me for.
I grab onto his hips, arch him up, and slam home.
