Page 82 of Weathering The Storm

Another decadent gust of breath forms a cloud between us, hitching ever so slightly as my mouth brushes his. A whisperof a kiss before I devour him. Creamy remnants of chocolate trade between our tongues until the sugar dissolves and leaves nothing but the taste of Nick.

“I’m not cold,” I preface, smiling against his lips, “but I wanna go inside now, Nicky.”

He takes my cup, crushing both in his fist as he gets up to open the hatch. “Me too.”

Chapter 23

Seth

It’s not the most graceful tumble into bed.

Nick goes down the hatch first, landing the abrupt five-foot drop onto the cushions, and I follow. Trying not to stomp on him as my boots hit the berth. Nick’s fingers find the button of my cargo pants while I close and seal the hatch door above us, his palms spreading over my lower stomach.

By the time I stretch back on the V-shaped bed, I’m shivering with want. Hopelessly trying to kick off my boots before I have to accept that they won’t come off unless I untie them.

“Too many fucking clothes,” I complain. We’ve got a lot of layers on, there’s a mountain of rumpled blankets wadded up betweenus, and it’s all the wrong sort of heat when it’s standing in the way of his body on mine.

Nick laughs, sliding off the berth and kneeling in front of me. The cabin lights bathe the cool, pale tone of his skin with gold. He unlaces my first boot, slowing down the moment. Loosening each individual point where the laces cross before he slides it off and kisses the bone of my ankle through my sock. “That’s okay. I like getting you out of them.”

Hard to argue with that.

I sit up as he takes his time with the second boot, too. Watching him while the sound of the ice echoes in the background. It's even louder down here, rubbing against the hull—the whole world reduced to that haunting song and the measured movements of his hands.

He leaves my socks on as he carefully peels off my pants, then my long johns. Ever cognizant of my body temperature. Our first night out here, he didn’t lift a finger to get me out of my sweater and jacket when I unzipped my pants and fucked him over the counter. The second night, he dared to slip his hands under my thermal shirt while we sucked each other off in the wheelhouse. So at least we’re making progress.

“I’m not keeping the gloves on,” I tell him.

“Oh, I don’t want you to.”

He reaches both hands around my waist, taking off my jacket and pressing a kiss to my lips. Taking off my sweatshirt and kissing me a little longer. Taking off my undershirt and cuppingmy jaw, keeping me in place while he melds our mouths together.

He rips off the Velcro strap on the wrist of the right glove and pulls it off. Loosening one finger at a time, then lacing our fingers together while he undoes the strap on the left. He takes the tip of the middle finger in his teeth and tugs. Letting the glove land somewhere on the ground before he sucks two fingers into his mouth and rubs my other palm with his thumb.

My cock throbs at the hot, wet slide of his tongue along the bottom of my knuckles. My lips part with a groan.

“I need these hands,” he says.

“I need that mouth, baby. Give it to me.”

He sucks my fingers harder, taking them as far back as they’ll go. Showing me how deep he wants my cock. God, he’s so fucking hot it makes me want topossesshim.

“‘Yes, sir,’” I prompt, throat dry. “Go ahead. Wanna hear you say it, the same way I do when you givemean order.”

He pulls back, his spit catching the light and shining on my fingers and his lips. “Yes, sir.”

I don’t know who’s more into it. Me or him.

He shucks his jacket off, grabs my hips, and yanks me down the berth until my legs dangle off the edge. Dipping his head to swallow my cock from tip to base.

Strands of messy blond hair tickle my abdomen as he gags himself on me. Moaning when my dick spasms and leaks down his throat.

“Does it feel good? Handing the control over to someone else? Letting go and taking my cock wherever I tell you to?” I suck in a sharp breath as he pulls back . Drool glistens all over my cock.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” He bobs back down automatically, setting a steady rhythm, and my hips pump up. Seeking the smooth wetness of his mouth. “Your mouth is so perfect. Just like that. Fuck, Nicky, I love the way you suck me.”

I love the way he responds to praise, too. Sucking me harder, swirling his tongue along the underside of my cock every time he sinks down. The more he pleases me, the higher he seems to set the bar for himself.