Page 35 of Faking It Right
“Your ass seems to have other ideas. You’re killing me here, snookums.”
I froze, embarrassment washing over me. “Sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?” Harley propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at me with amusement. “I’m not complaining. Just pointing out that you seem to be enjoying yourself.”
“I’m half-asleep.” I rolled onto my back to escape the temptation of his body. But it only made things worse, as the movement caused the blanket to tent obviously over my erection.
Harley’s gaze dropped to my lap, and his lips curved into a smirk. “I can help you with that, you know.”
My mouth went dry. “With what?”
He raised an eyebrow with a pointed look at my cock standing at full attention.
“How?” The question escaped before I could stop it.
Harley’s eyes darkened. “Do you have lube?”
“Why would I have lube?” I asked, my voice shooting up an octave.
“To jerk off?” He looked disappointed. “Please tell me you don’t use spit. That’s barbaric.”
My face burned. “I have lotion.”
“That’ll work. Where is it?”
I hesitated for a moment before reaching over to my nightstand drawer. I pulled out a bottle of unscented lotion and handed it to him, shaking as if I had just mainlined five espressos.
Instead of taking it from me, Harley rolled onto his back and patted his thighs. “Come here.”
“What?”
“Straddle me.”
Part of me screamedyes, obviously, while the other was still rebooting from the whiplash of the last twelve hours. It felt less like fumbling exploration and more like a scheduled demolition of my previously held beliefs.
“Trust me, Ryker. All I want to do is make you feel good.”
Something in his expression broke through my hesitation. I moved awkwardly, throwing one leg over him until I was straddling his thighs, feeling ridiculously exposed and somehow right at home.
My gaze dropped to his massive erection as he took the lotion from my hand and squirted some into his palm.
“Eyes up here, snookums,” he teased, making me flush even deeper.
Why did it feel so good when he called me that stupid nickname? “Shut up.”
Harley wrapped his slick hand around both of our cocks, pressing them together, and I nearly jumped out of my skin at the contact.
I gasped, my hips jerking forward involuntarily. “Holyfuck.”
“Good?” he asked, his voice strained as he stroked us both.
Good? That was like asking if getting hit by a freight train was “somewhat inconvenient.” The sensation of his hard length sliding against mine in his firm grip rewired my entire nervous system. My brain cells were high-fiving each other so hard I could practically hear the tiny slapping sounds echoing between my ears.
“Yeah,” I managed, my eyes falling shut as pleasure coursed through me. “Really good.”
Harley guided me into a rhythm that matched his strokes. “Move with me.”
I rocked my hips forward, thrusting into his fist alongside his cock, and a broken moan escaped me. The dual sensation of friction against my dick and the slide of his erection against mine was mind-blowing.
