Love Him Free (On the Market #1) - E.M. Lindsey Page 0,59

off camera. I practiced.’

Simon laughed, and Rocco wondered if it was silent or not. But it didn’t matter. He took a step closer and reached for Simon’s hand, taking willing fingers and sucking two into his mouth. Simon’s head tipped back, and Rocco splayed a hand out on his chest, feeling his moan. Yes, Simon would be good at this.

Letting one hand fall to Simon’s hip, he walked him to the front of the bed. He’d be visible from chin down there, Rocco from his neck and below. It wouldn’t take long for any of his fans to recognize him—his subtle ink, the curve of his waist, his hands. But he supposed that was what he wanted.

He supposed it didn’t matter. He was Rocco in this—Rocco, with his boyfriend, Simon.

A wave of possession hit him. For a brief, hysterical moment, he wanted to smash the camera, throw all of his money at Simon, then refuse to share him with the world.

But it was only a moment.

This was sex. This was coming.

Making love would be after.

His hands dragged over Simon’s skin as they removed his shirt, letting it fall at their feet. He splayed wide palms over Simon’s ribs, letting his fingertips dig in, letting them drag faint lines up to his nipples.

Simon shuddered, and he groaned again, loud enough Rocco could hear just the faint impression of it as it ripped from Simon’s throat. His fingers went for the elastic waistband of his jogging pants next. They were soft grey, cheap, simple—and they had never looked better on anyone else before. His fingers had their own tremble, because this was a first. This was a gift—unwrapping Simon, even for an eventual audience, but it was okay. No one was with them now. No one was seeing Simon like this before him.

He licked his lips, then nudged Simon’s head up with his own lips before deepening the kiss. Simon made a noise—it vibrated against Rocco’s lips. It was maybe a protest, so he pulled back and saw the shape of, ‘Too close,’ curve over his mouth and tongue.

He nodded and eased his grip. Simon was tenting his sweats to the point of strained, and a wet spot had grown dark and round, the size of a quarter. Rocco waited, only a beat, then he touched him there through the fabric. Rocco heard Simon’s cry louder this time. His own dick begged for more, but he would wait. It would be worth it.

Letting go, Rocco stepped behind Simon, and he carefully eased the sweats down past his thighs. They pooled at his feet, and then he was there—bared for the camera and for Rocco—and soon for anyone who wanted to watch. His cock was beautiful—shorter but thick, cut and swollen, and leaking a steady stream. And that was for him—that want, that hardness—it was for Rocco.

He wanted to speak, wanted to murmur against the back of Simon’s ear, but that would give him away too soon. Instead, he mouthed at it, licked around the shell, held Simon tight by the waist and offered him no friction at all, but it didn’t matter.

It would be over soon. Rocco could feel it in the line of Simon’s body.

His head bowed, tipping Simon’s ear to his shoulder. Rocco’s head was low enough, the most people would see was his profile, was the top of his head, and an open mouth on Simon’s neck. He bared teeth, and he attached his lips—sucking first.

And then he bit down.

Simon came like he’d been ordered to. His entire body went stiff apart from his hips that fucked uselessly into the air, straining against Rocco’s hold on him. He cried out, this time too soft for Rocco to hear, but enough for him to feel as the vibration hit through Simon’s back and into Rocco’s chest. His body went flush, and he pushed his neck against Rocco’s teeth, and then his entire body went limp.

Rocco’s initial instinct was to throw Simon to the bed and just take him. Strip them both down completely and fill anywhere Simon opened up for him. He wanted to mark Simon with teeth, with fingernails, with his come. But he had just enough hold on his own control to reach over and stop the recording. Simon was boneless against him, back still to Rocco’s front, clinging to his arm like it was the only thing keeping him up—and maybe it was.

Rocco turned Simon, then eased him onto the bed and put one knee onto the