No Good Deed - Marie Sexton Page 0,66

Jonas saw what River meant. They were small things—bringing River a beer, a touch on his wrist, ruffling his hair as Phil stood up from the bench to talk to Charlie—things that might be inconsequential to other couples, but Jonas had never seen Phil show such casual affection to Rory.

It looked like they really were good together.

Avery was the one person from the group who never approached Jonas. He kept himself at a distance, watching Jonas and Gray in turns. Jonas wished he knew how to put Avery’s mind at ease, but he’d already said everything he could say. The only thing he could do now was wait for Avery to see that Jonas was no threat to him or his marriage.

There were toasts, and cake, and more toasts, but finally the crowd thinned. Charlie’s friends approached to congratulate them one last time.

“Poker at your house on Sunday, right?” Gray said to Charlie.

“You bet. We’ll be ready.”

It felt like an idle boast. Jonas wasn’t sure he was ready at all, but Charlie and Gray seemed to think it was best to jump in with both feet.

Back at home, Charlie unlocked the door before sweeping Jonas off his feet and carrying him inside. Jonas could only laugh as Charlie tried to kick the door closed behind them without dropping him and then nearly tripped over Buttercup, who welcomed them home by circling Charlie’s ankles.

They finally made it to the bedroom. Jonas thought his heart might burst from happiness as Charlie kissed him and undressed him, steering him toward the bed. Charlie was gentle—almost reverent—as he touched Jonas. He kissed Jonas’s neck, his jaw, his collarbone. Jonas loved Charlie’s weight on him—not crushing him, as Charlie had imagined, but warm and strong. He loved the way the coarse hair on Charlie’s chest felt under his hands, the way his legs seemed to fit perfectly around Charlie’s waist. They’d always understood each other. They’d always found themselves on the same page. In bed was no different. Physically, their bodies were different, yet they fit together as if they’d been made to be one. Charlie caressed him and kissed him until Jonas could only whimper.

“Please,” he whispered, desperately wanting Charlie to claim him. Wanting that feeling of wholeness and completion that only came when Charlie was deep inside him. “Daddy, please.”

Charlie chuckled. “I love making you wait.”

Jonas groaned. Sometimes he wondered if men like Charlie who never bottomed could understand what he felt at moment like this—not merely arousal, but an aching emptiness deep in his loins that needed to be filled. A physical, primal need to have someone inside him that almost made him want to cry. “Please.”

Charlie obliged him—not with a fast, strong thrust, but a gentle push, barely breaching Jonas’s rim. Jonas shivered, resisting the urge to bear down. He whimpered as Charlie moved—a little deeper. A little deeper. A little deeper until Jonas was holding his breath, arching his back, moving his hips as much as he could with his ankles locked behind Charlie’s back.

“Oh, God, Charlie. Daddy.”

“Tell me you’re mine.”

“I am. I always have been. I always will be.”

Finally, Charlie pushed in that final inch, making Jonas gasp. Charlie pushed. And pushed, his hips barely moving. He growled, pushing harder still, as if desperate to be deeper even though there was nowhere else for him to go.

“I love you,” Jonas whispered. “God, I love you so much.”

And finally, Charlie started to move, his thrusts slow and deep. The magistrate had said they were two, now made one, and it couldn’t have been more true than it was at that moment. This was how they were meant to be, locked together, moving as one, breathing as one, sharing the same air and the same instinctive urgency. That hungry emptiness in Jonas was gone, replaced by nothing but pleasure as Charlie filled him and made love to him, his thrusts becoming harder and faster, almost growling as his lust took over. Jonas dug his fingers into Charlie’s back, gasping, torn between that sharp, strong pleasure inside him and the gentle coaxing of Charlie’s hand on his cock.

“Oh God, Daddy.”

Charlie’s answer was almost a snarl. One hand knotted in Jonas’s hair, wrenching his neck back. Charlie attacked his neck, his thrusts driving Jonas against the headboard, gentleness giving way to desire. Jonas braced himself with against the wooden headboard with one hand, gasping, lost in Charlie’s passion, trying desperately not to come until the force of his impending climax was too much