Page 88 of The Love We Deny
Will has always had a dirty mouth. But right now, he doesn’t stop, low and steady, telling me things that have my face permanently hot and my cock leaking onto the bed.
“Taking it so good, Doc. What would the town think if they saw you like this?”
“Harder.”
“This ass belongs to me.”
“More.”
“Such a slut for me. You know who can give you what you need.”
“Faster.”
“Touch yourself,” he says.
Somehow, through the haze of Will and his cock and his words, I’m able to get my hand under myself clumsily, the angle too awkward to really do anything, but it doesn’t matter. All it takes is gripping myself and a final thrust before I’m shuddering through one of the most intense orgasms of my life.
My toes curling and my cock still trying to come, even after I’ve dried up.
Once I’m as finished as I can be, I go flat against the mattress, exhaustion taking over. He follows me down, gripping my ass, holding me open as he fucks me harder and harder until he stops, coming with a squeeze to my skin and a deep groan.
When he starts to get too heavy, he rolls to the side, tossing the condom somewhere, and I go with him, clinging to his side.
“Fuck,” he says eventually. “You know that’s the first time I’ve done that in damn near eight years.”
I turn my head to look at him. “Really?”
“Mhm.”
“I figured you’d have found a prison boyfriend. Lots of options.”
“Fuck no. Are you kidding? With a face like this, you can’t be going around admitting you’re into dudes. Ain’t safe.”
“That’s a little cocky, don’t you think?”
He raises an eyebrow. “You saying you disagree?”
I consider arguing, but the day is catching up with me, and Will fucked me, and he hasn’t left, so I squeeze him tighter, wrapping myself around him. “I’d date you if I were in prison.”
“Well, that’s real sweet of you, Doc,” he says, dropping a big hand into my hair, ruining the quiet moment with the worst follow-up he could have possibly thought of.
“I just realized you probably fucked my sister in this bed.”
All I can do is shake my head, my eyes closing. “New mattress. Got it when we moved here. It’d been a few years by then.” He goes quiet again, seeming to accept that he didn’t fuck me in the bed I shared with his sister.
“Will,” I say, drifting off as his fingers trace patterns on my back.
“Mm.”
“I’m glad you came back.”
Will
I’ve been watching Nolan sleep like a total weirdo.
It’s four in the morning, and I’m lying here, listening to him breathe, running my fingers through the curls in his hair, feeling the weight of him resting against my chest.
I can’t sleep.
