Winning With Him (Men of Summer #2) - Lauren Blakely Page 0,92
my life.
I can’t wait to tell this city that he’s mine. I can’t wait to write my love for him across the sky. Knowing that, feeling it deep in my heart, means our soft and tender kiss doesn’t stay gentle for long.
We don’t come together softly.
We come together like two men who play hard.
Who love hard.
I thread my fingers through his hair, jerking his face back, breaking our kiss. I huff out a harsh breath as I drag my hands down the front of his polo, grappling with it. “Want you so much.” My palm travels south of the border, hellbent on reaching its favorite destination. Covering Declan’s rock-hard dick, I squeeze his erection. “Want you coming down my throat,” I growl.
Shuddering, he grabs the waistband of my pants, slams his cock against mine, grinds us together. “What do you know? I want the same damn thing.”
As I press against him, a velvety rumble falls from my throat—I might have just purred from rubbing up against my man’s hard-on. “Sidenote: my dick is so happy to see you again.”
Declan laughs. “To see me or my cock?”
I tilt my head and give him a deadpan stare. “I love you. My cock loves your cock. That’s how it works, man.”
He snakes a hand between us, rubs my dick, murmurs his appreciation. “Let’s get them reacquainted. How about on that sex couch of yours?”
I wiggle my brows. “It’s stocked up and ready to go.”
“I do admire your commitment to sex and sex plans.”
I wink at him.
Quickly, we toe off our shoes, leaving them by the door. On the way to the world’s biggest couch—maybe I subconsciously bought it hoping to bang him on it someday, or maybe because it’s perfect, too, for cuddling—I fiddle with the top button of my shirt.
He grabs my ass, stops me in my tracks. “Turn around,” he commands.
I do as he asks. I like his orders, always have.
Declan’s eyes blaze with heat, glimmer with dirty desire. “Let me undress you,” he says, low and smoky, as he covers my hands with his and gently moves mine away so he can slide his fingers along the top button on my shirt. His touch makes me shiver. The fire in his eyes makes me harder. Makes me ache.
Declan undoes one button, then another, then presses a kiss to my chest. A groan that sounds like a whimper escapes my lips. He undoes the next one. Another kiss. I’m all kinds of dizzy as Declan takes the reins, as he pushes open my shirt, kissing his way down my body, flicking his tongue over my pecs, my piercing, my ink.
When he bites my nipple then tugs on the barbell, a tremor slams into me, and I moan with a mix of frustration and desire. “Need you naked,” I say, this close to begging.
“You’ll have me.” When he’s opened all the buttons, he spreads his hands across my chest, pushing the shirt off my shoulders so it falls to the floor. I’m only in pants, my hard-on tenting the front of them.
I seize my chance, shoving my hands under his polo, tugging it over his head. My temperature skyrockets. I’m the surface of Mercury as we stare at each other, the air charged, atoms and ions buzzing and crackling like a wire about to fry.
Then we’re off to the races. I unbutton, unzip, push my pants to the floor—my socks too. He’s down to nothing in seconds flat. Nostrils flare. Breath comes fast. Our bodies crush together.
A gasp staggers past my lips. This is it. Skin to skin, flesh to flesh with my man. Our cocks rub against each other, and I groan from the promise of ecstasy, from the sheer intensity of how incredible it feels to touch him, to be touched. From how good it is to connect like this—with our love language.
No matter how hard we fuck, how dirty we get, how rough we are, this is love.
We love and we fuck and we want.
I break our hold, lean over the couch, and adjust a blanket so it’ll be right beneath us. Then I turn to him, and like I’m making a snow angel, I fall backward onto my sex-and-cuddle couch, pulling him on top of me.
I want to do so much with him. To do everything with him. Starting right now.