Page 5 of Slow Waltz
“It’s too bad you’re going to need your hands for this.” Silas kissed the back of his neck. “Sometime I’ll have to tie you up and see what other noises I can get you to make.”
“Or how silent I can be.”
In what seemed like one motion, Silas let go of Rhys’s wrists, pushed the jeans and underwear down Rhys’s hips, and smacked him across the ass.
It wasn’t a hard blow, more playful than anything, but the heat from it spiked Rhys’s arousal so hard his balls hurt. The moan that came out sounded downright wanton, even to his ears. Rhys couldn’t catch his breath before Silas had pulled Rhys against his body again. Only this time, the ridge of his cock rode in the cleft of Rhys’s ass. He squirmed despite himself. If only Silas were completely naked too. That would feel all the better. This was…torture. He leaned into Silas’s warmth and relaxed.
“Silent?” Silas sucked at his neck. “You?”
Rhys held back the retort.
“Let’s try dancing again, shall we?” Silas held Rhys, one hand across his chest, fingers brushing a nipple, the other hand threaded into Rhys’s pubic hair, not quite touching his cock.
They moved.
Rhys had been wrong. Standing still hadn’t been torture at all. This—God. He wanted Silas inside him, needed to be stretched and filled. Claimed. He moaned and arched against Silas. “Please.”
Silas didn’t stop dancing. With each step his hard but unreachable cock teased Rhys’s crack while one hand rolled a nipple between his fingers. The other hand simply rested so damn close to Rhys’s dick he felt the heat from it. But try as he might, no amount of squirming against Silas brought it any closer. Trapped.
“Please what?” Silas’s voice dripped with the dark joy that caused desire to coil around Rhys’s core.
“Fuck me.” Rhys panted the words. “Please just—fuck me.”
And still Silas moved—forward, side, together—grinding against Rhys. “Not yet.”
Rhys was so damn hard even the cool air of the cabin did nothing to quell the heat of his prick. The chill of precum drying on the tip was the only thing that didn’t set his blood on fire. Instead need wound tighter in him, for the touch of Silas’s hand or the velvet caress of his lips.
“You’ll never forget these steps now.”
It would be a miracle if he could ever waltz again without becoming hard in an instant. No, he’d not forget.
When Silas finally stopped the slow dance, they were in front of the balcony door. “Open it,” he said.
Rhys did, and they slipped out onto the wooden deck, Silas finally opening up some space between them. Private and secluded, they’d already made love on the deck chairs set in the corner. But Rhys hadn’t asked for—nor did he want—a tender session of sex.
Neither did Silas, it seemed. “Put your hands on the railing.”
A breeze wrapped Rhys’s damp skin in a cool blanket of air, but it was the command that had him shivering. Heart thudding in his chest, he obeyed. A muffled thump told him Silas’s pants had finally—finally—been taken off. Warm hands held his hips and pulled Rhys away from the railing until his chest was nearly parallel with the deck. Silas nudged his legs wide apart.
Silas caressed his back and ass, and Rhys trembled under his touch. “Oh, that’s splendid. You should see yourself spread like this. All flesh and muscle.” He trailed a finger down Rhys’s crack. “Hard and wanting. Arching against the wind.”
“You talk too much.”
That earned him another slap to his ass cheeks, this one harder. The stinging took Rhys’s breath away, and he lowered his head between his arms—mostly to keep Silas from seeing his grin. God, he loved taunting the man. Pushing him further.
“If we had time, I’d leave you just like this for a while. Watch you fight your desire and wonder when I was going to take you.”
Now that would be something. Rhys bit back the moan but couldn’t help thrusting his hips against the breeze. He was rewarded with the telltale sound of a bottle of lube being opened.
Hot fingers spread Rhys’s cheeks. Cool liquid dribbled against his hole, and then Silas teased him open. Rhys relaxed against the touch until one of Silas’s fingers pressed inside. Desire engulfed Rhys, stinging up his spine to his skull as Silas breached him, claimed him. This time, he voiced the low moan and bucked back on the digit, wanting to be stretched and taken deeply.
“Needy, are we?” Silas said. He fucked Rhys slowly with one finger, adding lube, never quite touching that sweet spot inside. Silas stroked him from inside, seemingly pressing everywhere. Pulses of heat licked down into Rhys’s balls, but the gentle fucking wasn’t enough. No width, no length. No power. Rhys tried to grind back, impale himself fully, but the way Silas had stretched him out left little room to do so. His arms ached from trying.
“Someday,” Silas said, withdrawing his finger, “you’ll learn that waiting”—Rhys felt the thick head of Silas’s cock brush against his hole—”has its advantages.”
With one hard thrust, Silas seated himself into Rhys, driving him onto his toes and firing every nerve in his body. His cry was long and low. Sweet pleasure curled around him like the ocean air.
Silas held him there and kissed his back. “See?”
