Back in Black (McGinnis Investigations #1) - Rhys Ford Page 0,88
my weight. “I’d rather it was just you and me in this bed.”
In the years between our first kiss and now, Jae and I had fought our way through cultural differences and internalized fears. It was good between us, had been good for a long time. Still, each kiss I’d given him since the first one was like a new gift. Every. Single. Time. I loved taking my time exploring his body, tasting the different textures and flavors of his skin on my tongue. I knew where each mark was on his body and the places I could make him shiver beneath me when I lightly bit there.
I could make love to him a million and one times and still want to come back for more, just for the sounds he made in his throat when my mouth closed over him and I drew him down as deep as I could. It was definitely time for him to cut his fingernails, because they made sharp aching starbursts on my shoulders and back. The sting lasted for only a few seconds, and I found I didn’t mind. Making love to Jae was a visceral, primal connection we forged time and time again. I never grew tired of his touch or his kisses, and when he finally tugged on my hair, driven to the edge of his control by my mouth and fingers, I chuckled at his insistent demands.
Jae made love like he lived life. We’d once started out desperate and needy, a violent explosion of want. Then we pushed away, separated by a brittle wall of control. We’d taken that wall down brick by brick, shattering them on the solid foundation of our relationship as we built it up. Jae’s passions were unfettered, sometimes even wild, and I was happy to be along for the ride. He stretched my imagination so many ways, pushing me to reach for the stars and to hold on to him as tight as I could.
I did exactly that as I slid into his tight warmth.
We rode each other slowly, stroking at ribs and shoulders, kissing what we could reach. And since Jae was a lot more flexible than I was, he could reach a hell of a lot. The stress of the past week sloughed off of me. I needed to leave all of it behind—my conflicts with my family about how I live my life, my worry I would reach for a gun to solve my problems, and most of all my paralyzing fear someone would take Jae from me.
I’d already been visited by Death way too often. I didn’t need him knocking on my front door anymore. Spending a lazy warm morning with Jae in our bed was the best panacea for my troubled soul.
“Stay with me, Cole-ah,” Jae murmured, raking his fingers through my hair. “Only us now.”
Being a good husband, I did what I was told and fell back into the starry heat he’d laid out around me.
The friction we built up between our bodies eventually spilled over, and his tightness became too much to bear on my sensitive flesh. He left his marks on me, his fingers bruising my shoulders while his legs trapped my hips, holding me firm. We found a pace, setting to a roiling pound, and I crested first, taking Jae with me.
He dug in harder, holding me in, keeping me lodged against his body until our contact grew to that bright brittleness where my skin couldn’t stand the burn anymore and I had to close my eyes, drifting away on the curls of pleasure and too-satisfied pain that sex always left behind. I kept my arms wrapped around him, fingers skimming his sweat-dappled shoulders and arms. Then Jae arched up against me, releasing the final bit of coiled tension from his body. We were sticky, damp, and probably musky as hell, but I didn’t care. I nuzzled my face into the curve of his neck and sighed, echoing the tiny husky breath he let go.
“I can’t move.” My mumbling was lost in Jae’s hair, but he understood me enough to grunt. “You’ve broken me. Next time, I’m on the bottom.”
“That would be nice,” he grunted again, this time with more force, and he shifted violently beneath me. “Because you weigh too much. Aish, you’re heavy. Why is muscle so heavy? Ouch, that’s my—”
“Sorry. Sorry.” Moving was apparently dangerous, and I’d come too close to unmanning Jae for life with my knee. Half rolling, half sliding off