Gasping, he half rises, abs tightening into a six-pack, his cock stirring. “Fuck.”

Grinning, I move my lips over the mass of scars to the inside of his thigh, so close to his balls and cock his musk fills my senses. Fascinated, I watch his cock fill out steadily, his balls draw up.

He drops back on his elbows, gaze going dark. “Gigi.” His voice has dropped to a low growl. “Don’t start something you’re not gonna finish.”

“Who says I won’t?” I run my hand over his thigh, over his muscled stomach, watching his cock swell more and lift up.

“You’re killing me,” he groans, and lets out a hissing breath when I take his cock in my mouth. “Hot damn…”

His spine arches. His body jerks. Then he tries to settle down as I suck on the saltiness of his length, placing one hand on his taut stomach, letting the other play with his balls. I roll them on my palm and more saltiness floods my mouth.

His fingers curl in the covers. “Fuck, that is…” His hips rock up as he fucks my mouth. I release his balls and wrap my hand around the base of his thick cock. “Yeah, like that. Shit yeah. Suck it hard. Harder.”

I’m so horny just from sucking him, hearing him, seeing how excited he is, sensing how close to the edge. From tasting him, so bitter and spicy and so sexy, so perfect with his scars and his pain, his loyalty and his hidden vulnerability.

I’ve never felt so close to anyone before.

His breathing is frantic now. His hips rock up uncontrollably, his cock twitches, spilling more salt and bitterness in my mouth, and I drink him in, stroking him and sucking until he cries out. Then I pull back, breathing hard, still stroking his cock, watching his cum splash on his chest, painting it in long white lines.

That’s hot. His cum, crisscrossing his tattoos, covering the scars, laid over his abs and strong pecs.

“A work of art,” I whisper, and then I catch the glint of his cat-like eyes and grin.

“You’re a crazy girl.” He chuckles, a deep, husky sound that I feel inside my belly, and between my legs.

“Like you didn’t know.”

“You’re right, I should’ve known. After all, you’re here with me.”

I look around for something to clean him up with, hiding my face, because my eyes burn. “Of course I am.”

Grabbing a discarded T-shirt that’s draped on the nightstand—how did that get there?—he sits up and wipes his chest clean, then throws it to the floor.

“Come here.” He opens his arms and winks. “My turn to make you cry out.”

“No, just…” I don’t know how to express everything I feel for him. My body is flushed and aroused, but that’s not what I need right now. “Just hold me?”

“Always,” he breathes. “God, always.”

Those words, and the feeling of being hidden in his embrace. Yes, this is exactly what I need. This. Now and always.

Early morning finds us in his tiny kitchen, drinking instant coffee in chipped mugs. The only ones he owns, apparently. I sit on the table, swinging my legs, while he stands at the counter, sipping his coffee.

He looks hot, in those low-slung sweats that reveal the delicious dimples at his hips and show his bare chest in all its glory.

Then again, what’s new? This boy’s always hot.

As the caffeine seeps into my system, though, clearing cobwebs, I realize there’s something wrong with this whole picture. “What happened to your chairs?”

“Seb broke them in one of his fits.”

God. “That what happened to the rest of your mugs, too?”

He grins cheekily. “Nah. Never needed more than two.”

I snicker. “Tell me you only have one fork and knife, too.”

“Fewer things to wash.” His grin fades. He glances around. “Yeah, I know, this place’s a dump. I won’t be staying here for much longer anyway.”

Tags: Jo Raven Wild Men Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net