Fools (Licking Thicket 3)

“My… oh.” I nodded encouragingly. “Uh-huh. Yes. That’s… very…”

Jesus on a jackhammer, what was I babbling about? In my defense, my entire brain had liquified when he started talking about my mouth and started spilling out my ear when he mentioned my dick.

Supportive friend.

Supportive. Friend.

“Very… what?” Dunn bit his bottom lip again and stared at my mouth like he was imagining things right then and there.

My whole body flashed hot and then cold, which was totally a hypothalamus thing caused by a surge of adrenaline.

In other medical news, I was very concerned that my cock might actually harm itself in its desire to break free of my pants.

“Very good,” I wheezed. “All very normal. I’m not freaking out, see? Keep going.”

“Yeah? Okay, well… you were naked underneath me in these thoughts.”

I pushed my lips together so hard it was painful. “Mmm. Mmhmm” was about the best I could manage. My cock throbbed in my pants—literally throbbed. I’d always thought that was hyperbole when I read it in books, but as it turned out, it was not.

At all.

This was a day of revelations.

“And you did this thing where you kind of… I’m not sure of the vocab. It was kind of a shimmy?” He moved his shoulders a bit. “But lying down?”

“Lying down?” I croaked. “Maybe we should…”

“Did you feel it too?” Dunn blurted out. “I mean, before. When we kissed. Is it always that overwhelming with a guy? Or was that… us?” His green eyes were earnest and molten hot, and I could no more have stopped myself from kissing him than I could have stopped myself from breathing, it was that reflexive. That necessary.

My liquified brain could not process all the ways this could go spectacularly wrong, so I simply didn’t think about them. I just tunneled my fingers into his hair, pushed him back against the arm of the sofa, laid myself out on top of him, and kissed the stuffing out of him.

You only live once, right?

Dunn moaned a little, and one of his big hands came up to hold my head in place while the other crept up under my sweater.

Holy shit. I was almost positive I was on fire, boiling from the inside out. The heat and taste of him on my tongue, the feeling of his calloused fingers against my back… I couldn’t help writhing against him a little, desperate for relief.

Dunn broke away and gasped for air, his green eyes fully dilated despite the dim light. He looked down at our fully aligned bodies, then back at me. “Shit, Tuck,” he breathed. “You’re hard. I felt it.”

“Oh, uh…” I looked down at the two of us too, but my reaction was less shock and more like overwhelming desire. “Yeah, I am. And so are you.” I watched his face carefully. “Does that bother you?”

He shook his head wordlessly, but his eyes were wide as saucers. “It’s hot, but… I have no idea what to do now.” He spread his hands out helplessly. “I want to touch you, but I don’t… know how.”

“You can touch me anywhere, Dunn. Do… anything. Okay?” I reached behind me and yanked my sweater over my head before I became the first person in the Thicket to die of heat stroke in March. “I’ll show you. You tell me if there’s anything you don’t like.”

Dunn’s big palms coasted up my naked back, and his nostrils flared, like he couldn’t believe this was happening any more than I could. He looked almost drunk, with his kiss-swollen lips and fever-bright eyes. “I trust you, Tuck,” he whispered. “Show me.”

I sat back on his thighs just long enough to shimmy his sweater up and off him, taking care not to stretch out the neck. Dunn watched in amusement as I folded it before tossing it gently onto the side table.

“Something funny?” I demanded.

“Just remembering you stomping out of the Steak ’n Bait, ready to rip off that sweater ’cause I’d dared to wear it out with Jenn.” His lips quirked. “What would you have done with me, half-naked in the parking lot?”

“I’m sure I would have thought of something.” I leaned forward and laid my palms flat on his chest, which brought our jean-covered cocks into alignment. Dunn’s eyes went unfocused, and I moaned.

Shit. I tried to remind myself that I’d seen his naked chest a thousand times—heck, I’d rubbed sunscreen all over him ten thousand times, ’cause he was so fair I made him reapply religiously—but suddenly everything was different. I could run my eyes over his flat, pink nipples and not have to hide my arousal, because I wanted him to see how much I wanted him. Heck, for this one night, I could put my mouth on him if I wanted to.

And I really, really wanted to.

Breathing suddenly became tricky.