Winning With Him (Men of Summer 2)

He grabs my ass, stops me in my tracks. “Turn around,” he commands.

I do as he asks. I like his orders, always have.

Declan’s eyes blaze with heat, glimmer with dirty desire. “Let me undress you,” he says, low and smoky, as he covers my hands with his and gently moves mine away so he can slide his fingers along the top button on my shirt. His touch makes me shiver. The fire in his eyes makes me harder. Makes me ache.

Declan undoes one button, then another, then presses a kiss to my chest. A groan that sounds like a whimper escapes my lips. He undoes the next one. Another kiss. I’m all kinds of dizzy as Declan takes the reins, as he pushes open my shirt, kissing his way down my body, flicking his tongue over my pecs, my piercing, my ink.

When he bites my nipple then tugs on the barbell, a tremor slams into me, and I moan with a mix of frustration and desire. “Need you naked,” I say, this close to begging.

“You’ll have me.” When he’s opened all the buttons, he spreads his hands across my chest, pushing the shirt off my shoulders so it falls to the floor. I’m only in pants, my hard-on tenting the front of them.

I seize my chance, shoving my hands under his polo, tugging it over his head. My temperature skyrockets. I’m the surface of Mercury as we stare at each other, the air charged, atoms and ions buzzing and crackling like a wire about to fry.

Then we’re off to the races. I unbutton, unzip, push my pants to the floor—my socks too. He’s down to nothing in seconds flat. Nostrils flare. Breath comes fast. Our bodies crush together.

A gasp staggers past my lips. This is it. Skin to skin, flesh to flesh with my man. Our cocks rub against each other, and I groan from the promise of ecstasy, from the sheer intensity of how incredible it feels to touch him, to be touched. From how good it is to connect like this—with our love language.

No matter how hard we fuck, how dirty we get, how rough we are, this is love.

We love and we fuck and we want.

I break our hold, lean over the couch, and adjust a blanket so it’ll be right beneath us. Then I turn to him, and like I’m making a snow angel, I fall backward onto my sex-and-cuddle couch, pulling him on top of me.

I want to do so much with him. To do everything with him. Starting right now.

38

Declan

There is still so much to say.

So many things I want to tell Grant Blackwood.

Or really, one thing.

But that can wait.

Right now, I want our bodies to talk. Hell, I need this communication. I have to reconnect with my man, and I want us pleasuring each other at the same time.

When I land on top of him, I push up on all fours so he’s lying under me. I lift my chin, run my teeth along my lower lip and give him a hot, dirty stare. “Sixty-nine. You in?”

“All in,” he says in a filthy voice that sends a sharp blast of pleasure straight to my balls.

“You want to be on top or me?”

Grant wiggles a sexy brow. “Seeing as you’re already on top, let’s get this double BJ party started. Move around and get your dick in my face.”

As I get into position, still on all fours, his cock bobs a greedy hello at my face. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Grant reach into a drawer in the end table, grabbing some lube.

“Just in case,” he murmurs as I lick a stripe down his shaft. Then I go farther, licking his balls.

“Oh yes,” he groans, jerking up his hips.

I indulge in a long, slow, delicious inhale of him. My body jolts with pleasure as his scent floods my nostrils, bathes my brain in desire. He is mine.

And I’m his as Grant lifts his arms, wraps them around and over my cheeks, and tugs me closer to his face. My man flicks his wicked tongue against the head of my cock. “Now fuck my mouth,” he commands, and he opens his lips in a filthy invitation and suctions me into the warm, wet paradise of his mouth.

My nerves sizzle from the twin sensations—me sucking him, him sucking me.

That’s all that’s happening in my head.

Just crackling. Sizzling. Burning. Melting. My brain is an egg frying on a hot summer sidewalk.

I pump my hips, thrusting my length down his throat.

Sparks tear across my body.

I want to talk, to tell him how much I love this, to use my words—I am a chatty mofo in bed. But I can’t since I’ve got a mouthful of perfect cock to keep me quiet. A cock I want to lavish all my love on. I draw him in, humming around his length.