Jagged Edge

“Me.” I run my hands over my chest, down, until I reach the hem of my tank top—a tame one today, since a john ripped my glittery one yesterday—and drag it up. “Where do you want me?”

“Whoa, wait.” Raine’s right in front of me in two strides—boy’s got damn long legs—and puts his hands over mine.

Which is fine by me. I keep pulling, and he doesn’t try to stop me. We remove my tank top together, but when I try to lower my hands, he won’t let me.

He presses my hands together over my head, locks them together in one big fist, and the look he shoots me has my breath going out in a whoosh.

Shit.

“I wasn’t gonna…” He licks his lips, eyes going dark and deep. “Oh fuck me. You look…” Another sweep of his tongue over his lips, and my control is shattered, that easy. I press against his hold, arching into him, crushing my mouth to his, a moan escaping me.

God, yeah. His hold on my wrists tightens. His other hand drops to my hips, and he jerks me against him, his hard-on jabbing into my crotch, and a different sound escapes me, a deeper groan. The pressure against my cock feels so fucking good, the way his chest rubs against mine, my pierced nipple throbbing in time to my frantic heartbeat, it all feels amazing.

He walks me backward until my legs hit the back of the sofa, and he props me against it, his hand going to my zipper.

Holy shit my mind is chanting, this ain’t no good, hold on…

His hand is inside my pants. On my dick. I should stop him, touch him, be the one who unzips his pants and—

His fingers curl around my cock, and fuck, oh yeah… His grip is hot and strong, and he sucks on my tongue as he strokes me, the pressure building fast in my gut.

It’s… Oh God. What was I thinking about before? That I should… I should be… Shit, I’m running out of air, and it only ratchets up the pressure. My vision is etched in black by the time Raine breaks the kiss and draws back, panting harshly.

Or is it me? Can’t catch my breath. Shit, I’m leaning against him, off balance.

Out of control.

Lost.

No, dammit. I can’t let this happen, not again, but he has me literally in his hand, my throbbing dick wrapped in his fingers.

“Raine,” I whisper, and his focus shifts to my face. “Let go.”

His hand on my dick stills. Then it lets go, as I asked.

I lean heavily into him, forcing him a step back, then bring my hands down. He releases my wrists, too, and I slide my palms under his shirt.

Defined muscles, clenching tightly under my touch, his stomach hollowing, his breath coming out in a huff. I push his shirt up, bending my head to lick a trail over his abs, his pecs, shoving the fabric higher and higher, and he yanks the T-shirt off him with a curse and throws it away.

It hits the wall with a soft thump and falls.

I smirk against his skin. Yeah, baby. Your turn to lose control. He’s been holding himself so damn tightly tonight, keeping the upper hand, not letting a crack show.

Until now.

My mouth waters at the taste of his skin, salty and musky, and my dick tries to burst through my pants. Such a good, crazy-ass sensation. Makes me wanna jack off while tasting his skin.

But no way am I letting that distract me. I nip and lick and suck my way to his neck, pressing our bodies back together, and he’s rock hard inside his jeans. I gasp at the feel of his hard-on against mine, resist the urge to grind myself on him, wondering if I’m getting fully hard for the first time ever with a guy—

He grabs my hips and does just that, rubbing our hard-ons together through the fabric, and my vision sparkles from the pleasure of it. How would it feel skin to skin?

Focus, Jason, goddammit.

Gripping his muscular forearms, I walk him backward until we bump into his armchair. I push until his knees bend and he sinks down on the cushion, then I straddle him.

His eyes widen.

Heh. This is more like it. I kiss him, long and hard, sucking on his tongue until he groans in my mouth. I rub his nipples until they’re tiny hard points, then twist them and he gasps in my mouth.