Resist (Sphere of Irony 3)

Lucky me.

He stops when his knees hit the mattress. With my legs straddling his, I sit up and come face-to-face with that flawless set of abs. Putting my hands on his hips, I lean in and inhale.

God he smells so good.

My already hard cock turns to granite. Slowly, pressing my fingers into his sides, I open my mouth and let my tongue drag over those hard ridges, tasting and exploring every inch.

When Mitch tentatively rests his hands on my shoulders, the contact sends a shiver down my spine. I sit up straighter and lick a path up to one of his flat, dark nipples. As it hardens under my mouth, Mitch lets out a gasp. Without stopping, I glance up to find Mitch staring at me, his expression so carnal my dick throbs, begging for release.

A muscle in Mitch’s jaw jumps. He’s having just as much trouble holding back as I am. Suddenly, his hands are in my hair and he yanks my head back. When his mouth comes down on mine, I groan loud and embarrassingly long. Mitch’s knee comes up on the bed between my legs as he lowers me down.

I tear away, panting. “Fuck, Mitch. Wait.”

“No,” he growls, attacking my neck with his teeth and tongue. He finds a sensitive spot near my collarbone and sucks, hard.

“Jesus. Shit, shit, shit, stop!” I shove my hands between us and once again have to squeeze my cock to keep from coming as he marks me.

Mitch lifts his head and looks down between our bodies. His gaze comes back to mine. His expression is wild, uncontrolled, and the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

“Take off your pants,” I demand.

You better be ready, not-so-straight FBI man. I’m about to blow your fucking mind.

Chapter 8

Mitch

“Take off your pants.”

Oh god. My legs go weak at Gavin’s command.

There’s no going back. I don’t want to go back. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more than I want this.

I stand at the side of the bed, my hands frozen on the button fly of my jeans. My senses are so overloaded I can’t move. My eyes are busy feasting on Gavin, specifically, the erection tenting his loose sweats and those sexy piercings of his.

My nostrils are filled with the scent of sex and sweat and Gavin, plus that damn coconut shampoo he uses. I lick my lips and can still taste him lingering there¸ potent and intoxicating. It all feels so strange yet so right.

I blink to find Gavin standing in front of me. One of his h

ands runs up the side of my neck to rest on my jaw. The rough pad of his thumb brushes lightly in front of my ear. Full, soft lips gently press against mine in a kiss so perfect the tension seeps out of me.

“It’s okay, baby,” he murmurs against my mouth.

My entire body shudders at the caring tone and sweet endearment that comes from someone so masculine and strong. Someone normally so utterly frustrated with me. The skin across my stomach flinches when Gavin’s other hand dips down inside the waistband of my jeans. He deftly flicks the buttons open, leaving my pants loose. Gavin deepens the kiss, opening up and plunging his tongue deep into my mouth.

A feral growl rips from my chest as the last bit of fear falls away, freeing me to finally take what I’ve wanted and denied for so long. I grip the sides of his face and groan, taking everything Gavin is willing to give. His hands slide around to my lower back to shove down the thick fabric that separates us. I feel Gavin shifting as he discards his own lightweight pants.

I allow my hands to roam, dropping them from Gavin’s face to drift down the curve of his spine. My fingers dance over his skin, reveling in the feel of hard muscles flexing as I try to memorize every inch. When I reach Gavin’s lower back, my hand brushes over the two dimples that sit at the top of his ass. Going further, I don’t find any fabric, instead continuing down over hard, rounded muscles covered by silky skin.

“Fuuuuck. You’re not wearing underwear.”

Without breaking eye contact, Gavin shoves down my boxer briefs. “Now you’re not either.” He steps back to take a good look. My skin burns under the intense scrutiny but I’m not embarrassed. The lust in his blue eyes, the way his body tightens and shakes as he takes me in—there’s nothing but appreciation in his stare and it turns me on more than I thought possible.

“You’re fucking huge,” Gavin grins. His expression turns serious. “And beautiful.”

Can a man be beautiful? I let my own gaze drift over the perfection of Gavin’s body, smooth tan, nearly hairless skin covering long, lean muscles. I decide that beautiful is only one of the ways to describe Gavin. He’s a work of art, stunningly gorgeous, quite possibly the closest thing on earth to perfection.

Gavin slides one of his hands into mine, squeezing it reassuringly as he leads me to the bed.