grinding hard against him until I felt him take a huge breath in and hold it as he arched off the bed. His hands tightened against me, painting bruises into my skin. His cock throbbed, and he gasped as he came.
I held off as long as I could, wanting to drag out the pleasure for him. I stroked him through it until his shudders came further apart and he made a move with his hand as if to stop me.
His eyes opened and he looked right at me, the love in his expression taking my breath away. His hand on my cock stripped away any thoughts I might have had as he dragged a bone-rattling orgasm from me.
I collapsed onto him, sweat and come covering both of us. My fingers were still clenched in his hair. Groaning in satisfaction, I uncurled them with a groan, dropped my head to his chest, and waited for my brain to unscramble. I felt a soft kiss on the side of my head and he ran his hand softly over my hair, petting me like a cat. If I could have purred, I would.
Our skin stuck together, peeling apart with a slick sound as I rolled off him. “I’m going to fall off,” I said, shoving at his shoulder. “Move over.”
He moved silently, his arm thrown over his eyes as if he was blocking the light. I thought about what he’d said. Had things changed with the orgasm? I searched my heart and mind for regrets and found none. Could he say the same? Heart in my throat, I nudged him gently. “You okay?”
He nodded but didn’t move his arm, didn’t speak.
“Jake, talk to me. What are you thinking?”
He slowly pulled his arm away, and rolled onto his side. I rolled onto mine to mirror him. Again, the look in his eyes took my breath away. It was almost too much. Putting a hand on my hip, he gently swiped his thumb across the skin stretched tight over my hip bone and kissed me. He shook his head, searching my face for something. Jake was never at a loss for words. Fear pressed an icy touch against my heart as I waited for him to say something. Anything.
“I’m thinking,” he said slowly, thoughtfully, “I was an idiot to stay away for so long.”
“I’m not going to argue with that.”
He traced my smile with his fingertips. “I’m also thinking I don’t deserve this. If you knew…”
I kissed his fingers. “So tell me.”
Now the look in his eyes was inscrutable. Distant and measuring. “I will,” he said. “Promise. But not right now, if that’s okay?”
One day. It had been one day since he’d strolled back into my life as if he had a right, as if he belonged there. I was beginning to think he did. I think there was a spot in my heart, in my soul, that belonged always and only to him.
“It’s perfectly fine,” I said. “We have time.”
His smile was less than certain. He blinked rapidly and then smiled. “In that case, do we have time to shower?”
The rest of the afternoon was everything I could have hoped. We showered, we napped, and he woke me up with a slow, torturous blow job. I repaid him with a demonstration of the deep-throating skills I had picked up over the years. Judging from his very vocal response, he was a fan.
Eventually, hunger drove us from the bed. After scrounging through the leftovers in my fridge, we sat on the couch again, working our way through two giant pieces of devil’s food cake we’d ordered from one of my favorite restaurants. Having dessert delivered felt decadent and somehow made the cake taste even better.
The television played softly in the background, neither of us watching it, and the conversation flowed easily. We sat with my feet in his lap, and he massaged them for me, working out the constant aches. We spoke like friends catching up after a long separation. I told him about some of the cities I’d lived in, about the friends I’d made and had to leave behind. He told me stories of people he’d met and places he’d been, and of the outrageous situations he’d found himself in.
Midway through a story involving a Russian supermodel, a possibly stolen Lamborghini, and an impromptu border crossing that involved a lot of gesturing with his fork, cake clinging precariously to the tine, I realized I was in love with him again. God damn it.