Bat Boy (Easton U Pirates 1)

“Then don’t.”

His shoulders slumped as if in surrender, and I couldn’t help taking the opportunity to smell his skin, that warm vanilla scent turning lusher as I buried my nose against his neck. When my lips brushed his nape, he shuddered. My fingers found his jaw, and I angled his face toward me so I could see his eyes. They were heavy-lidded with desire, but I could also see some confusion and worry underneath, like he couldn’t understand or fight off his body’s reaction to me. Before I lost my nerve, I took his mouth in a heated kiss, and when he moaned, my cock sprang to life. I was already half-hard with him on my lap.

I tightened the hand wrapped around his stomach, my other fingers nestled in the back of his hair, anchoring him to me. He arched into the kiss, his nails digging into my thigh as our tongues battled, my mouth feeling bruised as he licked and nibbled at my lips. I didn’t know if he realized how goddamned sexy he was like this.

“Please touch me, Brady,” he murmured before kissing the hell out of me again, licking into my mouth and sucking on my tongue, which made my body light up like a thousand-watt bulb.

“How?” I drew my mouth away and feathered kisses across his jaw to his nape.

“However you want. Your hands feel so good,” he said, then briefly faltered. “Unless this is too much?”

“No,” I said in a rush before the moment was ruined. “Hell no.”

And then I just went for it. My fingers were trembling as they grazed beneath his shirt to his smooth abdomen. Feeling emboldened by his quiet gasps, I let my hands blaze a careful path along his rib cage, up his sides, to his pecs. I admit I glanced at the door once to make sure it was shut all the way, but even with the fear of someone walking in on us, I couldn’t stop now.

“Fuck.” Kellan’s voice was hoarse as his fingers grasped the hem of his shirt, lifted it over his head, and threw it to the floor, allowing my hands the room to wander freely over his chest, arms, and stomach, coming to rest at the dark line of hair near his waistband.

He was panting heavily, his eyes screwed tight as he sank against my chest, granting me free rein to touch him this way after so many weeks of pining for him. It was like a gift.

“Can I touch you more?” I asked as my hands slipped just beneath the waistband of his jeans. I held my breath, hoping I didn’t do anything to ruin the moment—it was too good, too right. To my relief, he nodded, and when the tips of my fingers grazed the wiry patch of hair at his groin, I trembled all over. Holy shit. I wanted so badly to touch all of him.

Taking the hint, he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, then pushed them to his ankles, along with his underwear, giving me full access. And Jesus, having this view of him, as a ridge of goose bumps appeared along the landscape of his skin, made me feel heady.

His cock, rock hard and standing at attention, was shorter and thinner than mine, with a slight bend, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away, knowing he was this turned on because of how I was touching him.

“So pretty,” I said because it was true, but those words made him groan and squirm against me. My fingers skimmed across his thighs to the crease where they met his groin, and I could feel his wiry hair brushing the heels of my hands. His cock was leaking precome and in desperate need of attention, much like my own, which was positively aching from the pressure of Kellan’s bare ass on my lap.

Taking a deep breath, I finally got up the nerve to slide my palm over to grip his shaft, noting the silkiness before jerking him tentatively. He arched his back and moaned, which lit me up in a way no sexual experience ever had before. Like this was it—the secret I’d been searching for all along.

“Like this?” I said against his ear, and he trembled. Somehow it was better this way, him facing away from me. Like I could experiment without an audience of one.

“Fuck yes.” He tilted his hips, enjoying the contact.

I considered how I liked it done as I grasped his shaft again and stroked upward, letting my thumb collect the pearl of precome at his tip. I found the perfect pace as I adjusted the pressure, twisted my wrist a little on the upstroke.

“Yes,” he hissed. “Just like that. Don’t stop.”

He thrust into my fist, his head against my shoulder and tilted toward the ceiling, his lips parted as he panted heavily. I could tell he was close because he began whimpering and wiggling in my lap, which was doing nothing to help my own dick.