Melting - Sean Ashcroft Page 0,25

the sheets, rock hard and wanting.

But I couldn’t have imagined all this detail. Not the clean salt of his skin, not the needy little grunts escaping him, not the way his hips rolled back and forth, shallow and stuttering, like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted my mouth or my fingers more.

I pulled back when I felt him tensing up under me, not wanting him to come just yet.

Wes made an unhappy noise, but I stifled it with another kiss, moaning into his mouth as he wrapped his legs around my waist.

“You don’t wanna turn over?” I asked against his lips, pausing to kiss the tip of his nose.

Wes shook his head. “Don’t worry about me, I’m an expert.”

I snorted, but I was okay with taking his word for it. I wanted to be inside him more than I could remember wanting anything right now.

The cut-off gasp he made as I lined myself up went straight to my cock, shared sighs falling between us as I sank into his warmth, biting my own lip against the overwhelming surge of pleasure.

“How’s that feel?” I murmured, forehead pressed against his. This was probably too intimate for a hookup, but I didn’t do hookups. I didn’t know how I was supposed to be, only how I wanted to be.

And I wanted to be close to Wes. I’d wanted to be close to Wes since I’d caught him naked in the entryway.

Wes laughed, bright and delighted. He shoved his fingers deep into my hair again, humming into my mouth as he kissed me, thighs tightening around my waist.

How did he feel so good?

“Feels like you should fuck me like you mean it,” Wes said, eyes dark and glinting in the low light as he looked at me.

“Careful what you wish for,” I warned, rolling my hips forward and making him hiss under me.

He could have anything he wanted. Anything he wanted if he was going to keep reacting like that to everything I did.

“That’s it,” Wes encouraged, curling a hand around the back of my neck. “Just like that.”

I caught his mouth again, feeling him tense and relax under me as I built up a rhythm, hitching him up, driving deeper and deeper until I had him gasping at the peak of every stroke.

He was so perfect. Exactly what I needed right now, eager and responsive and fun, laughing into my ear as I panted against his neck, putting everything I had into keeping up the pace he liked.

“More,” he demanded, thighs squeezing tight around my waist, hips canting up, voice strained. Blunt nails raked my back as I sped up, shared hisses of pleasure joining the sounds of the mattress creaking under us, the sheets rustling.

Wes’s cock left sticky trails of precome on my stomach where it rubbed against me, hot and hard, proof that he really was getting off on this. I could feel how close he was, how tense his thighs were against me, how harsh his breath was coming.

“Wanna come?” I asked, making sure my lips brushed the shell of his ear. He felt so fucking good that I didn’t want to give this up, not yet, but I wanted to see him come more than anything. On my cock, because of me, so hard he’d be thinking about it for weeks.

Wes nodded, gasping in my ear, a whimper escaping him as I slipped my hand between us.

I barely had to touch him before his back was arching, stomach clenching, thighs gripping me like a vice as all the built-up tension spilled out of him. I followed him over the edge, head spinning with the intensity of it, of being with another person for the first time in so long.

I was glad it was Wes. In that handful of seconds, I couldn’t imagine anyone better.

Panting for breath, I rolled off him with the last of my strength and collapsed on the bed, making the mattress bounce. Wes laughed again, breathless, and then sighed the kind of satisfied sigh I’d dreamed of hearing, the back of his hand brushing against my knuckles as it flopped onto the sheets.

Another satisfied grunt from Wes made my heart soar.

He’d liked that. He liked me.

Downstairs, the grandfather clock I’d half-noticed on the way in chimed midnight.

“Dammit,” Wes said, an out-of-breath laugh serving as punctuation.

“Dammit?” I asked, too fuzzy to worry too much.

“Promised myself I was swearing off sex for a week,” he said. “Didn’t quite make it.”

I snorted, but a warm rush of something washed