He’d done a poor job at keeping distance between them. He knew what he felt for Dylan, and those feelings were solid. Holding back wouldn’t change them in the end. Tristan leaned forward, watching Dylan intently as he pulled him closer. Dylan didn’t deny him, although uncertainty loomed in his eyes. After a moment’s pause, he bent in to Dylan’s neck. “Fuck it. I’m the one that’s gonna be hurt in this deal anyway.”
Tristan took a deep breath, drawing Dylan’s scent inside him. He ran his nose along the skin of Dylan’s neck, loving the little shiver he got in return. “The way you smell… I love it.”
“What does that mean—you getting hurt?” Dylan asked without any acknowledgment to his last comment. Tristan lifted a hand to Dylan’s neck, holding him in place when it looked like he might pull away. He made a mistake and glanced down at those lips, so perfect and full. Dylan had amazing lips.
“Kiss me, Dylan.” Tristan slid his tongue across Dylan’s lips, tentatively testing his reaction. This was his chance. He had to know. Did Dylan share his feelings? Dylan opened and Tristan delved in, his tongue searching Dylan’s sweet taste. He wrapped his hands around Dylan’s lower biceps and stood, drawing him up against his body. This was what he’d been waiting for all night. And no matter how many different ways he’d told himself he wouldn’t push Dylan tonight, there would be no way to stop him unless Dylan put a halt to it himself.
Between the wine and Dylan’s incredible company, Tristan’s body was hard and ready. He couldn’t remember having to show this much restraint ever. Okay, maybe not ever…because he had been just this way with this man before. The time and distance of the last couple of weeks felt like the longest drought of his life.
“Wait, Tristan. Why would you be hurt?” Dylan pulled slightly away to ask the question.
Only under the need to kiss Dylan again did Tristan give in and quickly answer, “I’m very into you.”
Dylan widened his eyes at the declaration and stared back at him. He still hadn’t caught on. The buyout, the trip, everything he’d done for a simple dinner… “And you’re buried deep, with a strong life plan that you’ve been living for years that doesn’t include me. There’s no way this will end well for me, but not taking the few moments you’re willing to give me seems like a far worse fate. So kiss me, Dylan. Please. And call your family, stay with me tonight. We’ll deal with tomorrow later.”
Tristan turned his head and captured Dylan’s mouth with his own. Dylan met him halfway and wrapped him tightly in his arms. If actions spoke louder than words, then the possessive hold and the intensity of Dylan’s kiss proved he liked everything Tristan had just confessed.
Damn, he swore being in Dylan’s arms felt like home.
Dylan found himself pushed backward, and Tristan never broke from the kiss. Something solid hit the back of his legs and stopped his feet from moving, but his upper body kept going. In order to stop from falling, Dylan had to take his hands from Tristan to balance himself, something he really didn’t want to do. Tristan held on tight, holding most of his weight, completely in control of this moment as he lowered Dylan back on an oversized leather sofa and climbed on top of him.
Tristan was relentless as he devoured him, positioning Dylan’s head, driving his tongue deeper, making love to him with his mouth. The soft sensual strokes of Tristan’s tongue were mind-blowing. He’d missed Tristan, missed his taste and missed the intimacy they shared. Tristan slid a knee between his thighs to separate them. Dylan scooted lower on the couch, spreading his legs, giving Tristan better access to grind against him.
Dylan pulled at Tristan’s shirt, tugging the material free from his slacks. He craved skin on skin with a need unlike anything he’d ever known. The moment his palms touched the warm, bare skin of Tristan’s back, he lost it. A strangled moan pierced the silence of the hotel room. He’d only known it was his own voice because Tristan was busy whispering naughty promises against his ear. He hadn’t planned on any of this, hadn’t thought he’d need Tristan’s touch so desperately. He’d been very wrong.
Tristan reached low inside his slacks and palmed his dick. He circled Dylan’s tip with a thumb. His strokes were long and slow, tight and fast, and the sensations became too much. Dylan bucked himself against Tristan’s palm as he worked his belt free and his slacks undone. He shoved his underwear down and tore free of the kiss as he arched his back, lost in the pleasure Tristan gave him. “It feels too good,” he hissed.
“Don’t come, not yet,” Tristan said and squeezed the base of his dick, removing any hope of relief from his pending orgasm. Dylan exhaled and tipped his face up, his eyes burning into Tristan’s.
“But I need to,” he objected, threading his fingers into Tristan’s hair. “It won’t be my only one, you know it. You’re all I can think about.”
“I’m happy to hear that, but I’m greedy and I want this one in my mouth,” Tristan said, sliding off the couch between his parted thighs until his knees hit the floor. Dylan groaned as Tristan removed his shoes and socks then righted him into a sitting position. Dylan helped, tugging his shirt over his head and tossing it aside as he lifted his hips and let Tristan rid him of his underwear and slacks.
Tristan slid his palms up Dylan’s thighs and took him in hand. He was lost. All defenses were gone when the warm, wet heat of Tristan’s mouth engulfed him. Fuck! Tristan swallowed him to the root, the tip of his cock hitting the back of Tristan’s throat. He gripped Tristan’s head, guiding him down, and lifted his hips up at the same time, wanting more. He was careful not to thrust too hard; he didn’t want to gag Tristan…but damn, it felt amazing.