Page 74 of Golden

Sol tips his head back, breathing hard, as I trace my fingers down his chest. I need him to move soon or I’m going to lose my fucking mind, but I force myself to stay still while he gets used to the feeling of me inside him.

“Are you okay?” I ask, my hand still stroking his cock as I rub the other down his spine.

He nods, his eyes glassy and lips parted as he sucks in a breath. “So full . . .”

“Do you like it?” I ask. “Do you like being full of my cock?”

A breathy moan leaves his lips, his ass gripping around me, and I swear under my breath.

“Are you ready to move?” I ask, hoping that my desperation doesn’t seep through into the question.

He nods, his muscled thighs flexing as he gives a small roll of his hips. We both groan load enough to wake the dead.

“Fuck.” My fingers grip his thighs as he repeats the movement. “You feel so fucking good.”

Sol’s hands slide from my shoulders, pressing against my chest, and as he kisses me hard, I can’t take it anymore.

“Hold on,” I grit out, pushing him backwards.

His strong legs grip around me, his arms around my neck as I heave us up and over until I’m on top. Sol’s head tips back, his breath leaving him in a gasp at the new angle, but I’m ready to do what he asked.

Pulling out, almost to the tip, I ease back in, my eyes rolling back at the sensation. “Fuck, Sol. You’re going to kill me.”

His mouth finds mine again and I kiss him as I pull out and slam back in. Sol’s hands are everywhere, and I’m lost to the sensation as I start to fuck him with the same desperation of his kisses. He feels so damn good. Impossibly good.

“Fuck.” He gasps, blunt nails dragging down my back. “Wes. Fuck. More.”

I lift myself off him enough that I can watch myself slide in and out, his own cock hard and leaking against his stomach. “Touch yourself,” I command, hooking my arms under his knees and fucking him deeper.

Sol cries out and I hope he’s right about his family not being able to hear. I’d never ask him to be quiet, though. The noises he makes when he’s falling apart for me are the sweetest sounds I’ve ever heard.

He grips his cock, stroking in rhythm to my deep thrusts and my head swims as I drink in the sight in front of me. Literal perfection. Sol’s eyes are closed, his head thrown back, neck straining as he continues to moan my name between garbled curses. Ever since I met him, I’ve wanted to know what he looked like undone, and now I know it’s . . . everything. I feel drunk—high—and I never want to come down.

“Fuck. Wes.” He pants, his rhythm growing frantic. “I’m close.”

Thank fuck. I practically bend him in half as I pound into him, and it only takes a few thrusts before he tenses, his ass gripping my cock as strings of come coat his abs and chest. His eyes fly open, looking up at me with such beautiful, sated awe, that it finishes me off, and I swear softly as I pulse inside him, filling him up.

I release his legs, staying inside him as I blanket him with my body, not giving two shits about the mess between us. Swiping a hand through his damp hair, I cup his face and kiss him. Sol moans against my lips, and I suck his tongue, nipping his bottom lip before pulling back.

“Are you okay?”

He nods, his eyes roaming over my face. “Yes. More than okay. That was . . .”

“Yeah,” I say, stealing another kiss. “It was.”

Possibly the most intense and enjoyable sex of my life?Yep. I try and push the thought away, forcing myself to stay in the moment as Sol kisses me like I’m the air he needs to breathe.

After a minute, my soft cock tries to slip free, and I reluctantly pull away. I press a kiss to his nose before heading to the bathroom and grabbing a wet cloth to clean us up with.

“Thank you,” Sol murmurs, his eyes half closed as I spend maybe a little longer than necessary cleaning up my come as it leaks from him. The sight stirs something primal inside me, but I shake my head and stand, dumping the cloth back in the bathroom.

When I return, Sol is under the covers. I hesitate, no more than a split second, but something shutters in his expression.

“I can go back to my room,” he says quietly.

My stomach twists. He should. But the idea of sending him away makes me feel sick. “No,” I say, flicking off the lamp and climbing in beside him. “I want you to stay.”

And it’s true.

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