Somebody to Love (Tyler Jamison #1) - April Wilson Page 0,111
only right that I do. “I’ve been wondering… do you want me to bottom for you?”
He’s quiet for a moment… a long moment. “Ian? Did I say something wrong?”
“No, you didn’t. It’s just… would you do that for me?”
“Yes.”
“No hesitation? Just an unequivocal yes?”
“Yes.”
“The truth is… I love it when you fuck me. I love feeling your strength. I love how you take care of me. I love feeling like I’m yours. So, no. Topping isn’t something I feel the need to do. I will, if you want me to, if you want to try bottoming. Do you?”
“The thought makes me nervous as hell. If we’re both okay with what we’re doing, then I see no need to change anything.”
“Good.”
I slick my finger with lube and run it around the rim of his hole, teasing him open with slow, languid strokes.
Ian moans into his pillow. “You sure are a fast learner.”
“I have a lot of catching up to do.”
When I eventually ease into him, sliding through a tight ring of muscle, I gasp at the sensation. I kiss the back of his neck as I reach around to stroke his erection, which is straining madly for attention.
I stroke him relentlessly, from root to tip, teasing the head and building his pleasure and the friction until he comes undone, shooting his load into my palm.
“Tyler, fuuck!” he cries.
I stroke his cock gently, milking his orgasm. Then I allow myself to finish, and the exquisite pleasure of his tight channel makes my eyes roll back in my head.
We’re both breathing hard, both of us hot and sweaty. I tell him not to move when I go clean up in the bathroom and dispose of the condom.
When I return to bed, he’s already half asleep. I pull him close.
Yes, Ian’s my home now.
Epilogue
Tyler Jamison
I never dreamed I would get so much enjoyment out of watching my boyfriend decide what to wear on a date.
Ian pulls an aqua blue Henley off its hanger and holds it up to his naked chest. “What about this one? The color makes my eyes pop.”
I push away from the door jamb and walk into a dressing room that’s bigger than the living room in my condo. It’s got a multitude of clothing rods and drawers and shelves, all of his clothes and accessories organized neatly by color. It looks like we’re standing in a department store.
I shake my head. Rich people.
All of my clothes are in this closet, too, hanging on a rod Ian cleared off for me. I don’t have a lot of clothes, so I only need one. He cleared out half the drawers in the dresser for me. And my shoes are lined up on the floor beneath my suits and jeans.
Ian frowns at his reflection in a full-sized mirror, his shoulders falling. “You don’t like it?”
I snap my attention back to Ian and his wardrobe dilemma. “I love it. It’s perfect.”
I’ve never seen him so nervous. In the two months we’ve been together, I’ve learned that Ian is full of contradictions. He can be self-assured and brazen one moment, but when his insecurities surface, his confidence takes a nose dive. He’s high maintenance, but I don’t care. I know what my life was like before Ian, and I don’t ever want to go back to that. I’ll fight his insecurities tooth and nail before I ever give up on him. On us.
I pull him into my arms and gaze into his beautiful green eyes. “Ian?”
“Yeah?”
“You look amazing no matter what you wear.”
He scowls. “You’re just saying that.”
“No, I mean it. Now, please, finish getting dressed.” I glance at the digital clock on the wall. “It’s seven-thirty. If we don’t leave in fifteen minutes, we’ll miss our reservation.”
“All right! Sheesh. Have a little patience.”
I was serious when I said he’d look amazing in whatever he chose. Although he is a bit of a clothes horse, he’s usually never this worked up about it. But tonight is a big night for him. For both of us. It’s our first official date. We have reservations for two at Tavern on Rush.
“You’re nervous,” I say.
He shrugs, not bothering to contradict me.
“It’s just a date, Ian. Relax.”
He turns to face me. “It’s not just a date. We’re going out on the town, to a really nice restaurant, in public. I want tonight to be perfect.”
“It will be.”
He rolls overly dramatic eyes at me just before he pulls the shirt over his head. The shirt molds itself to his torso,