Page 22 of Gift of You
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to . . .”
“It’s okay.” I smiled, stepping back into his space and pulling both of his hands back up to my chest. “I think it was just how lightly you were touching me. You’re not going to hurt me if you use a little more pressure.” I laid my hands overtop of his and moved them slowly down my abdomen and back up. “Mmm. Just like that.”
I let go, watching his eyes as he explored on his own. He’d been so closed off when I’d met him—shit, was that just a few days ago?—but I was starting to learn the different nuances in his expression. Right now, he was looking at me in wonder, as if he’d discovered a new treasure.
“What do you think? Doing okay?” I trusted him to tell me if he needed a break, or if anything was too much, but his lack of speech was making me feel self-conscious.
His eyes flicked to mine, then back down to my chest. “It’s... different. Not bad, just... different.” He flicked a thumb across my nipple, and I hissed, causing him to freeze.
“It’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting that, and I have very sensitive nipples. You can do it again if you want.”
He flicked the other nipple, and though I was prepared this time, I still couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped. I loved nipple play, but I hadn’t been kidding when I’d told him they were sensitive. There was a hitch in his movement, but then he did it again and, unable to help myself, I reached my hand out and traced my thumb over his nipple. “What about you? Do you like it?”
His eyes flashed to mine, blue eyes darkening almost to black. I did it again, flicking both of them at the same time and watching his face for a reaction. Matthew let out a growl, then surprised me by yanking me forward and slamming his mouth down on mine.
The assault of his mouth combined with the feel of his chest hair abrading my skin had a ball of white-hot lust burning through my system like a comet. I wrapped my arms around his waist and held him against me, meeting the thrust of his tongue with my own voracious assault. His hands swept up and down my back as I gripped his hips and held on, not knowing what was next, only knowing that I wantedmore.
Teasing exploration gave way to an inferno of need. His hands landed on my shoulders and squeezed, holding me in place. I grabbed his ass, pulling his groin into mine, desperate to feel every part of him against every part of me. The size of his bulge pressed against me was worth noting. God, I couldn’t wait to get my hands on that thick cock. To hold the weight of it in my hand, or better yet, to feel it resting on my tongue.
My thoughts were interrupted—in fact, all thoughts fled—when he rolled his hips into me, that thick bulge scraping against mine. As his tongue continued its assault, his hands slid from my shoulders down to my ass, and he squeezed, kneading my flesh through the denim.
He emitted a sound of frustration and then tore his mouth from mine, muttering something about too many clothes, and before I knew it, he was unbuttoning my jeans and lowering the zipper. I watched in fascination as the man who’d fled my apartment in a panic just a couple of days ago was now sliding my pants over my hips and letting them fall to the floor. So much had changed in that short amount of time. I could only hope he wouldn’t have regrets later. He’d just told me he thought he’d regretnotexploring this with me, but I couldn’t quite put the thought out of my mind that this was happening so fast. Especially for someone who’d given me the impression that he wasn’t overly fond of change, and rarely made a move without giving it plenty of thought first.
He slid the tip of his first finger beneath the waistband of my briefs and his eyes flicked to mine. “Can I?” He released a heavy breath as if it was a burden to him. “I think I want to see you.”
The vulnerability in his eyes nearly undid me. He was asking my permission, but I thought a little bit of that question was for himself as well. Somehow, that hesitation reassured me more than anything else. He wasn’t barreling forward riding a lust-fueled current without thought. Oh, he was definitely riding that wave, but at least I now knew his brain was engaged as well.
With my eyes locked on his, I gave him a nod of affirmation. His gaze dropped, and he began slowly drawing the waistband down.
16
MATTHEW
The last twenty minutes... the last hour, really, going back to that kiss in my shop... had been mind-opening. It was the oddest sensation to feel as if you were having an out-of-body experience while simultaneously being completely present in your skin. One moment I felt like an observer hovering above, watching this moment unfold, and the next I was one hundred percent in my body, experiencing every single zip and zap of energy zooming through my system.
I’d felt the spark of every kiss, the flash of need, the brush of fingers and lips. I’d welcomed the want, the desire, thelustburning through my system. I’d felt all of it wholly and completely, and for the first time in months, I feltalive. Like I was somethingmorethan the shell of the man I’d been, holding on to grief because it was the only thing I had left ofher.
Ruthlessly, I shoved that thought away, determined not to turn down a path that would take me out of the moment. I wanted this, goddammit. I wanted to know what this thing was between me and Louis. Between me and another man. To answer the question of attraction once and for all.
As if kissing him wasn’t enough.
As if rubbing myself against him, flicking his nipples, grabbing his ass... as if my aching erection wasn’t enough evidence of my attraction.
I hooked my finger more firmly behind the waistband of his briefs and drew them down, resolute and determined. My movements were confident, yet as I revealed each inch of him, my breath hitched and stuttered with the monumental weight of the moment. There would be no going back, no denying my attraction after this. Becausefuck, I wasenjoyingthis.
For a split second, time stood still. My hands froze, eyes locked on the sight of his cock jutting proudly from his body. And proud his dick should be, because it was a thing of beauty. Never in my life had I given another man’s cock a passing thought, let alone contemplated the attractiveness of its appearance.
A dick was a dick. I used mine to piss. I used it to get off. Upon occasion, I’d used it to give pleasure. Most days I gave it a quick scrub in the shower, tucked it away in my boxers, then didn’t give it much thought for the rest of the day. It was just a part of my body.
But another man’s dick... well, suddenly that was something else entirely. It warranted more study. I wanted to see it from all angles, to admire all the ways it was both the same and different than mine. I wanted to touch it, to hold it. Did I want to taste it? I wasn’t sure about that yet, but I thought... maybe.
My eyes flicked up to Louis’s. He gave me the smallest of nods, the corners of his mouth tipping up, his eyes warm. I looked back down, and with only a slight shake of my hand, I reached out and cupped him. The underside of his shaft rested in my palm while my thumb wrapped around the top. I gave it the tiniest squeeze, my eyes shooting back up to his face at the soundof his gasp. His eyes were closed, lips parted, head tipped back slightly.
I loosened my grip and gave him a stroke, drawing my hand toward me then back down to his base again. My eyes couldn’t decide where to land. I was fascinated by the sight of his length in my hand but didn’t want to miss his facial expressions as I tentatively stroked him.
His face, I decided. I wanted to watch his face. So with my eyes trained on his, I concentrated on how hefelt.Velvet-wrapped steel was an apt description, I thought, once again marveling at how I’d never noticed this about my own dick. But I supposed I’d only ever concentrated on how being stroked had made me feel on theinside, rather than the literal feel of skin against skin.
I gave him another long stroke, marveling at the shudder that went through him and at the way his brows drew up at the same time. Another stroke elicited another whimper, and I was officially addicted. No longer worried about the fact that I was holding another man’s dick in my hand for the first time, my focus zeroed in on Louis’s pleasure. I wanted more of those whimpers. I wanted moans and groans and unrestrained need. I wanted him a little out of control. I wanted him messy. And I wanted to make amessout ofhim.
