Page 77 of ILY
But that doesn’t mean I know what I want from all this. Or where we can possibly go from here. But I do know I want him. I want his hands on me, his dick in my ass, his cum painting my insides as he loses control.
He grunts like somehow he can read my thoughts, and he kisses me harder. “We’d better go. I can’t afford to get arrested for public indecency.”
The idea is hot, but the consequences of that are most definitely not, so I pull away and stare at him for a second. ‘I’m sorry,’ I sign.
He freezes, and his brows dip. ‘Why?’
‘Because I make things complicated.’
He shakes his head and steps back into me. ‘You make things interesting,’ he signs, then pulls my fingers to his lips and kisses the tips of each one. “You are gorgeous and sexy, and you make me feel things I didn’t know I could. You make me feel like there might be a place in the world for me after all.”
That’s a lot. And yet, it rings true. I just don’t have the words to tell him I feel the same way. ‘Take me home,’ I sign instead.
He kisses me one last time for good measure, then lets me go and turns to get in the car. It’s with shaking knees and unsteady feet that I follow suit, and I do my best not to count down the minutes until we’re back at mine.
We crash through the door, frantic with need. The car ride home made me incredibly horny. Mainly because Thorne was touching me while behind the wheel, literally driving me to distraction.
Michael is no longer at the forefront of my mind. Neither is Denver and his stalker revelation.
Nor the fact that my aunt may have killed someone and their body is rotting underground.
That makes me gasp, pulling away from Thorne.
“What?” he asks, and I shake my head, not wanting to let dead bodies get in the way of a good fuck. I can think about that later. I’m sure they’ll still be there when we’re done.
Unless Michael up and moves it.
I wouldn’t put it past him.
We fall onto the couch, and Thorne is above me, kissing me roughly. The feel of his cock rubbing against my own hard length has me moaning deeply. The couch squeaks underneath us.
If this fucking thing breaks on me, I may cry.
My fingers twine in his hair, and I pull, making him groan. My legs clench around him, my ankles locking against his lower back.
“I put lube down here,” I tell him, and he leans up, obviously having heard my voice but not able to make it out.
I stare at his spit-slick lips and run my thumb over them before signing, ‘Lube. Have here.’
His eyebrows rise, and he turns his gaze to the coffee table. Sure enough, there it is.
“Backdoor Gear,” he rumbles and then lets out a long laugh. “Where did you get this from? Is this new?”
“Doesn’t matter,” I sign and say. “It’s not old though, so come on. Put it in my back door.”
He snorts and leans over me, his eyes meeting mine. “I really like you.”
I bite my lip and blink up at him, fluttering my eyelashes a little. “Like you too.”
He leans up a little, reaches back, and pulls his shirt off over his head. It’s far too sexy. I tried this once and ended up doing something to my collarbone in the process.
Never again will I attempt to be sexy. I think the world just wants me as is.
‘Your turn,’ he signs, and I lift up, straining my abs, which are still sore from Dex’s workout class, and pull my shirt up. It gets stuck around my face, and I lie back and let Thorne peel it away.
‘Saved you.’
‘My hero.’
