Marc Jillson & The Gazebo (Love Inscribed 2)

Hunter’s grip over my hip and nape tightened. “Tell me what happened?”

“I want to forget.”

“What about we go for a walk?”

“Don’t you want to fuck me?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe, but—”

I reached for the button on his jeans. “So how does this work?”

Hunter pursed his lips and sighed. He wheeled us to the kitchen table, opened a small bag attached to his chair, and drew out a condom, bottle of lube, and a cock ring. He had prepared.

I loved his certainty.

He set the supplies aside and kissed me with a long press of his mouth. “I’m going to the bathroom, and I’ll be back in ten minutes. Feel free to change your mind.”

I shook my head. “I need us to do our worst together.”

Hunter bit down on a groan and disappeared to the bathroom. I yanked off my clothes and paced the kitchen in tight boxer briefs, the head of my cock rudely peeking out. Aching to start business.

I needed this.

I shimmied the elastic waist midway down my shaft. If I shut my eyes, I could still feel Hunter’s mouth on me.

God his mouth would ruin me. Everything it could do. Everything it would say.

I grabbed the pantry door and lightly banged my head against it. Hunter wanted to know what was going on, but could I tell him?

Shouldn’t I shrug it off? Keep things simply sex between us?

The light in the living room stretched into the kitchen. A soft light made amber from the lampshade. Plants hung from baskets, casting oval shadows.

Hunter’s place was tidy and spacious. The burgundy feature wall and stacked bookshelves warmed it with a homely touch.

I cupped my balls. Why was I covered in goosebumps? It wasn’t like I hadn’t been fucked before.

But would it be much different with Hunter? How could I make it good for him?

I’d researched a few things online, but theory and reality . . .

I rubbed myself through the cotton and imagined Hunter’s square-tipped, calloused fingers doing the same, dragging over my sensitive skin . . .

A shiver stole over me from scalp to toe. I tugged my balls not to embarrassingly come from the thought alone.

Hunter rolled into the room. The table blocked half of him from view, but his perfectly formed chest and firm, tattooed skin hinted he was naked.

He rounded into the kitchen and paused.

Hunter sat proudly, a hummingbird on either thigh, his flaccid dick resting on smooth balls. His sparse and well-groomed patch of pubic hair made me wonder if I should have waxed my asshole.

Hunter ran a hand through his hair. Was he hiding a tremble?

His nervousness gave me the courage to unstick myself from the door and move to him. “I totally haven’t changed my mind,” I breathed out.

The corner of his mouth twitched, and he steered me closer by the back of my thighs. His eyes dragged up my obscene underwear/dick situation to my face. “Made yourself comfortable, I see.”

“Right at home.”

Hunter’s smiled bloomed. “Kiss me.”

I smiled into the kiss, trying to stifle a giggle by pressing our mouths firmly together. The giggle shuddered through my chest, and Hunter slid his hands over my abs as if to soak the sound in.

He pulled back. “What’s the laugh for?”

Weirdly happy. “Nervous.”

He cradled my head. His eyes softened as he took in every feature of my face. His thumbs slid up to my temples, fingers softly scraping up through my hair. I wasn’t sure what to do with my hands and braced them on his broad shoulders. “You can sit on me, Marc.”

“I won’t, like, hurt you—shit that was stupid. I meant squash . . .” I heated, and Hunter smiled with far more patience than I deserved.

“Just like before, only less material between us.”

I shuffled onto his lap.

He breathed me in. “Mmm, herby.”

“Better than earthy,” I growled. “I washed. Thoroughly.”

Hunter gripped me around my ribcage. His thumbs rubbed the faded leaves he’d drawn on me yesterday. “How many times do I have to say it? I like your earthiness.”

I rocked my dick against his sternum. “Maybe third time is a charm?”

He smashed his face against my armpit and breathed deeply. “I love your earthiness.”

He peeked at me. I stared down at him, quiet confidence expanding in the intimate space between us.

I sank back onto his firm, warm thighs. “I have questions.”

Hunter tipped my chin down and kissed me. “Ask.”

“I thought, maybe . . . I was expecting your legs to be a little, um, atrophied?”

“It can happen. I use electrical stimulation to increase muscle mass.”

I squeezed his shoulders. Hunter’s eyes blissfully rolled back. “God, I need the gym.”

Hunter laughed, light and carefree. His next kiss stole my grin. Deep, slow, and soft, as if we had enough time to infinitely explore each other’s mouths. My cock pulsed in synchrony, a slow steady beat.

I gaped at the engorged head and below at Hunter’s lap.