Page 57 of Faking It Right
“God, no.” The words came out more forcefully than I’d intended, surprising both of us. “I want you. Only you, Harley.”
His usual playful confidence seemed to dissolve, his smirk softening at the edges until it showed the same vulnerability I felt. It wasn’t about physical experimentation anymore. I wasn’t scratching an itch or satisfying my curiosity. It was making love to someone I deeply cared about, maybe even loved, though thethought was too new and fragile to examine too closely when I was balls-deep in the man.
It was like a switch flipped in a room I didn’t even know existed in my head. I’d had sex, sure. Plenty of it. But I’d never made love to a person who knew me so completely, who accepted every part of me without question or judgment.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Harley asked, reaching up to brush his thumb across my cheek.
“I never knew it could be this way.” I turned my head to press a kiss to his palm. “With you, it’s different. Better.”
“Yeah, it is.”
The moment stretched out, heavy with unspoken feelings, until Harley rolled his hips, reminding me of the more immediate matter at hand. I groaned, the physical pleasure rushing back to the forefront of my consciousness.
With renewed focus, I set a new pace that had him clutching at the sheets, his head thrown back in abandon. The sight of him lost in ecstasy because of me was intoxicating, making me bolder, more confident in my movements.
I experimented with different angles and speeds, cataloging each response, learning what made Harley gasp and what made him moan. When I spread his thighs wider apart so I could go deeper, the sound he made was almost a sob of pleasure.
“Fuck, Ryker,” he panted, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that stole my breath. “You’re a natural.”
“I have a good teacher.”
“And don’t you forget it.” Harley grinned, then reached between us to wrap his hand around himself.
I watched, mesmerized, as he stroked himself in rhythm with my thrusts. I’d seen Harley that day in our apartment when I’d walked in on him with another man, but it was different now because he was with me.
“Are you close?” I asked, feeling my release building, a pressure at the base of my spine that threatened to overwhelm me.
Harley nodded, his movements becoming more erratic. “Yeah, please don’t stop.”
As if I could. As if anything short of the apocalypse could tear me away from him in this moment.
I maintained the rhythm he needed, watching with awe as his face contorted in pleasure, his body tensing beneath mine. When he came, it was with my name on his lips, his release spattering across his stomach in hot pulses. Combined with the way his muscles tightened around me, it was enough to push me over the edge.
My orgasm hit me with more intensity than anything I’d experienced before. Even with the barrier of the condom between us, the sensation of coming inside Harley was overwhelmingly intimate, a connection that went beyond the physical. I collapsed forward, barely catching myself on my elbows to avoid crushing him, my forehead pressed against his as we both struggled to catch our breath.
For a long moment, we stayed like that, bodies still joined, the only sound in the room our ragged breathing. I felt different somehow, changed in ways I couldn’t quite articulate. It wasn’t that I’d had sex with a man for the first time, although that wascertainly significant. It was that I’d made love to Harley, my best friend, the person who knew me better than anyone else in the world.
I wanted to do it again. And again. Andagain. For as long as he’d let me.
“You’re thinking too loud.” Harley traced lazy patterns on my back.
I lifted my head to look at him, taking in the satisfied curve of his lips, the softness in his eyes. “Sorry. I’m processing.”
“Good processing, or the ‘Oh, shit, I’ve made a terrible mistake’ kind of processing?” There was a hint of vulnerability in his question.
“Definitely good,” I reassured him. “Amazing, actually. Mind-blowing. Earth-shattering. Pick your superlative.”
Harley chuckled. “I mean, I would have said ‘transcendent’ or ‘life-altering,’ but that’s me.”
“Very funny.”
“And yet here you are,” he pointed out, his expression turning serious. “Inside me, in fact.” He clenched around me to prove his point, making me groan.
The reminder made me aware of our intimate position. I withdrew, both of us wincing at the sensation of separation. For all the intimacy we’d shared, I felt awkward and exposed as I dealt with the condom, tying it off and wrapping it in a tissue before tossing it in the small trash can beside my bed.
I turned back to Harley, who sprawled across my sheets, looking thoroughly debauched and pleased with himself. The sight ofhim flushed, sweaty, completely at ease in his nakedness, his stomach covered in cum, sent a flutter through my chest that I wasn’t quite ready to name.
“Hold on,” I said, reaching for my nightstand drawer. “Let me grab something.”
