Page 11 of Rescued
Sex with Arlo is like nothing else in this world. The way he gives himself over to me makes me feel like a god, and I’ll never take it—or him—for granted.
Heat is racing down my spine, my body barreling toward release, and just the thought of filling him with my cum makes it rush at me faster.
I move faster, thrust harder, each of Arlo’s moans echoing in my throbbing cock. He’s going tense, his hole contracting around me rhythmically. My hips stutter, and Arlo cries out, his back arching. “Oh fuck, I’m—fuck, holy fuck… coming. Coming, coming, coming.”
I keep fucking into him, finally letting go as my dick jerks, filling him with cum, bathing my cock in it.
I grind against his ass, trying to drag out all the pleasure I can. For both him and me.
Finally, I slump to the side, pulling him into my arms.
He buries his face in my chest, rubbing his nose over my nipple with a sigh. “Feeling better?” I ask after a few minutes of silence.
“Being with you always makes me feel better.”
I bite my tongue to keep from telling him that we could always be together. That he could move in with me. That we could tell our friends about us. But I don’t dare disturb the balance we have.
“I’m glad,” I say instead, running my fingers through his sweat-slick hair. “Do you want to shower?”
He shakes his head. “No. I should be going.”
My heart clenches. “You could stay here,” I offer.
After what feels like an eternity, he sighs. “Okay, but only because I might be too sleepy to drive.”
Whatever the reason, I’m grateful.
I force myself out of bed to get a warm washcloth to clean Arlo up, and by the time I’m back in the bedroom, he’s already dozing. He stirs a bit when I wipe him down and get him under the covers, but settles quickly, and by the time I’m back in bed, he’s dead to the world.
Almost like he senses me, even in sleep, he rolls toward me, curling into my side and placing his hand on my chest.
Clasping my hand over his, I close my eyes. I always sleep so fucking good when Arlo’s in my bed.
Softfingerscaressmychest, and it takes me a second to realize it’s Arlo. He rarely stays after he wakes up, so I don’t move, too afraid that if I do, he’ll get up and leave.
He’s tracing patterns on my skin, the tips of his fingers circling my nipple before dusting over my pec and down my sternum. They dip lower, brushing over my belly button, then my hip bone, before he slowly drags them back up and settles his hand over my heart.
His fingers twitch, and I want to reach up and hold his hand in mine.
“Can I ask you something?” he says quietly, and my eyes fly open.
“How did you know I was awake?”
“Your breathing changed about five minutes ago.” I shut my eyes again, those words sending little fissures of pain and longing through my heart. How can he know I’m awake just by my breathing? How can we bethatclose and it still not be enough? “Can I ask you something?” he repeats.
My heart slams against my rib cage. Can he feel that too? Does he know it beats for him and him alone? Does he know that I’d do anything for him? “Anything.”
He raises up to look at me. I wouldn’t say he looks well rested, but he does look like he’s been awake for a while. “How do you feel about kids?”
I scrunch my nose up. “Like in general?”
Searching my face, he nods. “Sure. And like, in your life? Like, do you want kids?”
Unable to resist, I press my thumb to his lower lip over his freckle, dragging it down over his chin. I sigh. “I’m not sure, really. I never really pictured myself having kids. I work so much. Never mind how dangerous my field is.” I shrug, and something dims in Arlo’s eyes. “Why? Do you want kids?”
He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter, really.”
“Of course it matters. It matters to me.”
