“You’re so tight,” Seth says.
I want to make a joke. Say something quippy. But my voice doesn’t work.
Seth grips my shoulder with one hand while easing the rest of the way inside me.
I suck in a few gulps of air to compose myself. When I think I can handle it, I nod. “Move.”
“Are you sure?”
“Definitely.”
He tests a tentative thrust and then another. It’s the third try that hits right where I want it, and I let out a long groan which makes him do it again.
That’s when he lets go and thrusts harder.
“Oh hell,” I breathe. “Oh, shit.”
“You said it,” Seth says with a small laugh, and then he grunts as his pacing increases. “I wasn’t lying when I said I’m not gonna …” He pauses. “Last long. Shit, that was close.”
“I don’t care. I want you to come before I fuck you. Then your hole will feel well and truly used.”
Seth moans and resumes his pace, taking my body like he owns it. Taking his pleasure from me which only heightens everything.
“Come on, Seth, you need to come before I beat you to it.”
I’m sweaty and feeling close to the edge just from seeing Seth start to lose control, but my cock is crying for attention. I know if I were to touch myself, I’d erupt before I’m ready.
It only takes a few more pumps for Seth to shudder and finally put me out of my misery. He calls out my name as he comes and barely has time to recover when he says, “I need you now, before the high of coming goes away.”
He pulls out of me and flops onto his back, and I’m quick to move between his spread legs.
I place my hands on his knees and push them upward, folding him in half and exposing his hole. I use my fingers to quickly check he’s still okay to take me, but he swats them away.
“I’m ready. I need it. Richie, please.”
I am not strong enough to withstand Seth Grant begging.
I line up my cock and push my way inside him, only stopping when Seth winces, but the second I stop, he shakes his head.
“Keep going. I’m good.”
All I can do is trust that he’s telling me the truth.
There’s something fundamentally different about being inside Seth than anyone I’ve ever been with, and it’s not because he’s a guy.
It’s because for the first time in my life, I’m with someone I care about. I’m with someone I hope to have a future with, and sex with feelings is a lot more intense than the emptiness of purely getting off.
Seth looks up at me as I start to thrust, his cheeks flushed, his chest heaving, and when he reaches for me and cups the back of my head to bring my mouth down on his, it’s all over.
The swell of my orgasm increases until I spill over and ride the wave until we’re a sweaty pile of intertwined limbs and connected bodies.
When I do regain the energy to move, it’s only to roll onto my back.
Our breathing syncs, our chests rising and falling together.
“We definitely need to tell your brother,” I say.
“Eww. Your first thought after that was of Foster?”
“No. My first thought after that was I will do anything in my power to make sure that happens again. And again. Even if Foster is pissed at me, my feelings for you won’t change.”
Seth sucks in a sharp breath, and I turn my head to find his eyes shiny.
“Do you mean it?”
“I promise.” I seal it with a kiss and then race him to the shower.
23
Seth
Dating has never been like this.
Sure, I’m still as anxious and on edge as ever, but this time is for a whole other reason. Usually, I worry I’m being too much. I’m waiting for the inevitable end and analyzing each step that gets me there.
Which I’m starting to realize might have been part of the problem.
With Richie … he’s laid-back and genuine, and now I’m anxious over us ending because I’ll do anything to keep him. He never makes me feel like too much.
Only exactly enough.
I don’t want to fall for him, because that shit is pointless at our age. But I’m pretty sure it’s happening anyway.
“How are you feeling?” I glance across at him in the passenger seat as I pull up into the parking lot near the restaurant where we’re meeting Foster and Zach.
Richie lets out a long breath. “Like skipping lunch was a bad idea.”
“You had lunch.”
“Yeah, but only one.”
Of course. I turn off the engine. “Come on, he’s not going to bite.”
“I know he’s not going to bite. He’s not four. What he could do to me is much, much worse.”
We climb out of the car and meet on the footpath. Richie’s wearing a button-up and navy pants under his coat that fit him like a second skin. He’s tidied up his beard, but even under it I can tell he’s looking pale.