Best Fake Fiance (Loveless Brothers 2)

“Charlie,” he whispers, and I take more of him, opening my mouth as wide as I can, stretching my tongue along the underside of his cock, one fist at the base.

He’s huge, almost too big to manage, but then his fingers tighten in my hair and I push my lips down just another inch, eyes watering, and he whispers my name again.

I love this. I love the way he tastes, the way he says my name, the way he breathes when I’ve got his cock in my mouth. I love giving into him like this, getting on my knees, worshipping at his altar.

Daniel sighs, moans. He works his fingers into my hair, his entire body full of barely held restraint as I move faster, suck harder. He’s leaking precum now, groaning every time I swallow, and I don’t stop. I don’t want to stop, because even though I want him, I want this, too.

But suddenly, he pulls my head back and I’m looking up at him, fist still wrapped around the base of his cock. Delicately, I open my mouth, lean forward, swirl my tongue around the head of his cock, wrap my lips around it as he groans, his eyes going to half-mast before he pulls my head back, grabs me by the arm, pulls me up.

“You’re sure?” I murmur.

In response, he undoes my shorts, shoves a hand inside, swipes two fingertips along my slit and grins.

“I’m sure,” he says, finding my clit again, circling it with slick fingers.

My shorts come off, his pants fall, and then I’m on one of the lounge chairs, sinking into the cushion as Daniel pushes me backward, mouth on mine until I’m at an angle against the back.

“I packed condoms,” I say, breathless, before I can say something irresponsible like fuck me bare and come inside me. “They’re in my duffel bag, in one of the outside—"

He holds up a foil packet, rips it open with his teeth.

“Pocket,” he says, kissing me again. “I learned my lesson.”

He rolls it onto his thick cock, his tongue in my mouth. I can hardly breathe for anticipation, for wanting, for needing him like this again like he’s oxygen and I’m on Everest.

“I learned my lesson too,” I say, grabbing his cock again, guiding him toward me. “Fucking outside is fun.”

He finds my entrance, pauses, teases me. He nips at my lips with his teeth, kisses me hard and fast, slides the tip of his cock between my lips and I grab the top of the chair behind my head, roll my hips.

Daniel tweaks one nipple, rolling it between his thumb and finger, and I moan in helpless frustration.

“I love you like this, you know,” he says, his voice velvet against my ear.

“Like what?” I whisper.

“When you want me,” he says. “When you need me to fuck you so bad you can’t stand it, but there’s nothing you can do.”

“Tease,” I whisper.

“You know what else I love?” he asks.

He doesn’t wait for an answer, just hilts himself in one stroke, and even though we’ve done it dozens of times I still feel a little like I’m being split in half, like he’s knocked my soul free from my body. He collapses into me and I sink my fingers into the hard muscles of his back, curling one leg around him.

“I love it when I finally do,” he whispers, his face in my neck, his beard ticklish and scratchy, sending quick shivers through my whole body.

I don’t say anything. I can’t. My mind is so blank it feels spiritual, ascendant. When we’re together like this is when everything else suddenly goes quiet and there’s nothing but Daniel and me, our bodies together, flesh become transcendent.

When we move, we move together, like different parts of the same machine. I’ve always found solace in physicality and in him I find deliverance, redemption, something more than pleasure.

It’s pure, wild lust but it’s lust for him, for his body and his mind, for the way he growls love you in my ear so low I almost can’t hear, for the way he pulls me against him and kisses me like he’ll never be able to get enough.

We crash together, meld, waves in a storm. He fucks me hard and fast and deep and he whispers my name as he holds himself over me, his other hand sinking into my thigh, pulling me, seeking more.

Suddenly he pulls out, kisses me, breaks it.

“Roll over,” he gasps.

“Why?” I ask, already on my hands and knees, grabbing the back of the lounge chair.

He plants a hand over mine, runs a hand down my back. He sinks himself into me again, slow but hard and deep and I gasp, pushing back against him, taking him until my toes curl.

“Because I like it when you fuck me back and come hard,” he says, holding me against him.