Hat Trick (Fake Boyfriend 5)
“Now what?” He breathes heavily.
“Roll over and face that ass toward me. I want to see you work yourself open with your fingers.”
Jet lets out a muttered curse as he turns so I can see every inch of his pert, round ass. He has his cheek to the mattress, and I can see every expressive emotion on his insanely good-looking face.
One of his hands holds his ass cheek, while the other sneaks through his legs.
His middle finger circles his hole.
As he presses in, I say, “I want you to remember what it was like when it was me doing that to you. When I was the one inside you, turning you out until you couldn’t talk. You couldn’t breathe.”
Jet writhes on the bed. His eyes squeeze shut, and his mouth hangs open.
He fingers himself, adding a second one when he’s ready, and I have to grip the base of my cock to stop from coming.
Jet’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen—and that’s fully clothed. Naked and spread open for me, he’s so beautiful I can’t stand it.
“You’re so hot,” I say.
“Fucking duh.” Jet’s response is all gurgled.
“You almost ready for me? I don’t think you’re quite desperate enough yet.” I’m lying. Totally lying.
Jet grunts, deep and guttural.
This is exactly how I wanted him. He’s on the brink of losing it, thinking of me, and in a minute, he’s going to remember how I rocked his world three years ago.
I move toward the bedside table as quietly as possible and open a condom. I’m sheathed, lubed, and ready to go by the time I get what I want from Jet.
“Soren, please …”
“I’ve got you, baby.” I grip his wrist and gently pull his hand away. My knees hit the mattress behind him, and slowly, I push inside.
His ass tenses around me, but his shoulders relax and sag as if he’s just been released from torture. “Go. Fuck me.”
“If you insist.” I put my hand on his back between his shoulder blades and hold him down.
I move all the way inside him, loving how his body gives way for me and accepts me easily.
He buries his head so he’s facedown and mumbles something that sounds like “harder.”
I move in and out of him, gradually increasing my pace.
I remember it being phenomenal and heated between us, but nothing—nothing—has ever been this good.
“Fuuuck. Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Jet’s words would be laughable if I weren’t saying the same thing in my head.
“So hot,” I say again. And then again.
The muscles in his back contract with every thrust, and his skin shines with perspiration.
My hair is wet from my own sweat.
“I’m … I’m—”
“Not yet.” I pull out of him and flip him over. “I want to see your face when you come.”
He lifts his knees without me having to ask, and I dive right back in.
I’m hovering above him now, staring into a pair of eyes I got lost in all those years ago, and I can’t wait for it to happen again.
And again, and again, and again.
I’m not going to take what he’s giving me for granted, because for all I know, he’ll turn around tomorrow and say he’s changed his mind.
I’m going to take my time and make blazing-hot new memories to go with the old ones.
Jet’s hand goes between us, and he jerks himself off while I pound his tight ass.
When his skin flushes bright red, and his eyes roll back, I take what I’ve wanted this whole time—what I’ve wanted since the moment he arrived on the island.
The kisses Jet and I have shared here in Fiji, while as hot as I remember with him, they’ve been short and interrupted.
Right now, there’s no one else but him and me, and as I lean down to take his mouth and taste him, I feel warm spurts of cum on my stomach.
I don’t slow down for his orgasm or stop kissing him. I let him ride out his pleasure while taking my own.
Jet relaxes under me, and when he finally comes down from his high, he pulls his head back, breaking our kiss, and gives me his eyes.
Those deep-brown eyes …
That’s all it takes.
I still inside him until my orgasm passes, and even then, it takes all my strength not to collapse on top of him.
Only when I pull out of him, dump the condom, and land beside him does he make eye contact with me again.
“Guess you’ve still got it.”
I laugh. “Guess so.”
It’s totally not creepy to watch Jet sleep, right?
I mean, he did say he doesn’t sleep well when he’s away from home, so I’m checking to make sure he’s doing it right. Sleeping, that is. Because, you know, after twenty-three years, he might not know how.
Okay, I’m being creepy.
I roll onto my back and sigh happily. Jet’s back in my arms, and for the first time in a long time, the world feels right.