Page 91 of A Minute More

“Come home with me,” I blurt, and I clench my hands tightly so I don’t reach out and pull him into me. I’m not sure that’s what he wants.

“I don’t know…”

“I want to show you…I want to show you things.”

He shifts on his feet. “I have work, but send me your address. I’ll come after I’m done.”

I nod, and he hesitates, his hand coming out and brushing against my cheek.

“Fuck, Simon. I missed you.”

I swallow and feel the sting in my eyes.

“I missed you more.”

* * *

I run home. Literally. I jog. My house is a mess so I spend a frantic few hours cleaning, showering and brushing my teeth.

I want to be perfect when he arrives.

I need him to see me put-together. Not the hot mess he ran into earlier today.

When the doorbell rings, I’m nearly hyperventilating. I have so many questions and yet all I want to do is kiss him, to lay in his arms. To let him hold me.

“Hey,” I breathe, but it comes out as more of a wheeze. I’m not going to survive tonight. I’m going to pass out.

“Hey,” he says and then sweeps his hand to the side. “I love the porch.”

I bought it for you, I think, but I bite it back. That’s insane. I realize that now. My grand gesture was just…creepy.

“We can sit out there, if you don’t want to come in.”

“No, I want to see inside. Can I?” he asks, looking shy and unsure so I pull the door open wider so he can walk in. It’s a small Craftsman house with three bedrooms and two baths and a large backyard. The kitchen needs to be remodeled, but that’s something I’d want to do with him. I want to do all of this with him. I want this place to feel like his home too.

“I love it,” he says as I show him around, his hands trailing over every surface he passes. He only pauses when we enter my bedroom, and I hear his breath hitch.

Neither of us moves, the air thick between us.

“Oh fuck,” he says and then turns his gaze to me, his eyes drifting to my lips. I wet them and he groans.

It’s game over. He’s on me, pushing me up against the wall and fucking his tongue into my mouth. It’s not gentle, it’s not timid. It’s wrought with need and angst. It’s been too long. Too fucking long.

I moan as I grasp on to him, not wanting to let him go. I can’t believe he’s here. This feels like a dream.

Is it a dream?

He bites down on my bottom lip, and I gasp, grinding my hips up against his. His hard cock is straining against his pants, and I want them off. I want him naked. Inside of me.

“Please,” I moan as I reach down between us and palm at his length. He rests his forehead on mine and he lets out a shaky breath.

“Oh fuck. I haven’t…I’m gonna come if you keep doing that.”

I squeeze him again, loving that he’s so out of control, that I can do this to him even after all this time.

“Oh god, Simon,” he ruts against me and then a shudder leaves him, a wet spot forming on the front of his pants. I stare down at it, surprised at how quick that was.

“I told you,” he pants and then his forehead thumps against the wall beside me.

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