Sugar and Ice - RJ Scott Page 0,49
or at my back, his strong legs tilting his ass up from the mattress, his mouth moving over my arms, biting gently on my shoulder as I settled over him.
“Do you like my cock in your ass, Zvedva moya?”
“Love it…give it to me now, please?”
“So pushy. Have you forgotten who is in charge?”
He shook his head, his lips too tempting to not crush with mine. His tongue met mine, parried and danced with it. I slid my arms around him and threw my weight to the side, rolling us over with a grunt. The kiss broke. He settled on my thighs, his cock resting on my belly, mine nestled between those tasty round orbs of his.
“I know who’s in charge,” he replied breathlessly, moving his hips back and forth, rubbing his cock over me as my prick slipped over up and down the crack of his ass. For a man who had never been with another man before, he was a natural cock tease.
“Tonight you are, my star. Tonight, I throw my arms up and let you lead. Tonight, I give myself to you, all of me,” I whispered, reaching over my head to wrap my fingers around the posts of my headboard. His eyes rounded for a moment, then the passion took over, and so did he. Tate rolled the condom on me, then slicked it up, rising up with one hand on my chest to press a glob of lube into his ass. I groaned at the image. His head dropping down, his eyes closed, his mouth parted as he fingered his own hole for me. “Go slow, it will be deep. Do not hurt…fucking hell, Tate.”
He impaled himself. A huff of pain escaped him. I tightened my hold on the bed, knowing that if I grasped his hips as I longed to do, I would fuck him into a coma. He eased up, the tightness around his jaw lessening as he rose, then slowly went back down.
“Plow horse…definitely a Russian plow horse,” he gasped when he sat, my cock buried to the hilt inside him.
“Mm, the best things…are Russian,” I replied around a moan.
Then the talking ceased. It was replaced with short bursts of growls and grunts, sighs and cries, and then the sounds of two men tumbling over the edge. Tate came on my chest and belly with just the slightest touch of my hand to his prick. He collapsed over me, convulsing around me, and I jerked as my orgasm swept over me. One hand on the headboard, the other finding his ass, I pushed my heels into the bed to get that extra inch. He whined as he lay atop me, his body shuddering as his cock pulsed jet after jet of cum between us.
“Oh my God,” he whimpered as we lay there too spent to move. His lips moved tenderly up and down my shoulder, then my neck, and then skipped over my whiskery cheek to my mouth. He licked inside. I released his ass and carded my fingers through his hair, both hands, locking his lips to mine as I reveled in his taste.
“I agree,” I sighed when the kissing slowed. “You must move.” I patted his sweaty ass.
He slithered off me, settling on the bed like a bag of wet wheat. I gave his bare shoulder a kiss, then rolled off the bed, removing the condom and knotting it as I padded into the bathroom. I tossed the condom, washed my chest and belly, and then returned to Tate with a warm cloth. He rolled to his side, his gaze dreamy and soft. I fell right then. Totally. I’d been balancing on the cusp of loving the man fully, but seeing him like this, open and trusting, well-loved, I toppled completely. Somehow it would work. I would make it work. We would make it work.
“We have much to talk about,” I said as I wiped at the drying spunk on his chest. He murmured something. I tossed the cloth to the floor and stretched out beside him, facing him, letting myself get lost in chocolate eyes. “Tell me one thing tonight and I will tell you something you wish to know about me. Is that fair?”
“Mm, yeah.” He looked sleepy, his eyes heavy, his face restful. He threw out tremendous body heat. I liked it.
“Why did you ever propose to Lacey?”
That question wiped all that lazy, groggy afterglow from him in a hurry.
Chapter Thirteen
Tate
Why did I propose to Lacey?
That was both