Page 53 of Playing His Game

“Can’t fuck you with your pants on.” If he wanted access to that pretty ass, he’d have to pull Mo off the counter.

Or Mo could push him back and slip off the counter, having seen the same dilemma.

He reached for his own belt, looked at Adam from under long lashes, and said, “Get naked, Murphy. I want your dick.”

“As you command,” Adam drawled, and got out of his clothes.

He tossed his trousers over one of the kitchen chairs and turned back to see Mo positively lounging against the counter. He had an easy stance, though his hips were canted slightly to give Adam a better view of his cock. Flushed red, it curled toward his belly.

Fuck, Adam wanted to suck it.

Shaking those thoughts away, Adam pulled Mo in for another kiss. His dick bumped against Mo’s belly, slipping against abs damp from sweat and his own pre.

“Where’s that lube?”

Mo passed it back over his shoulder and braced himself on the counter.

Oh, Adam could work with this. He slicked his right hand and stroked between Mo’s cheeks. Mo arched his back pornographically. Unable to resist, Adam slid his left hand up and down his back while he eased one finger inside.

“Fuck.” Mo shoved his hips back, pushing Adam’s finger in to the third knuckle.

Gaze locked on the pretty sight, Adam pulled his finger out, then teased Mo with the feeling of two, brushing his middle finger along the ring of muscle.

“Another one.”

“You sure?” Adam’s fingers matched his dick—long and thick.

“Did I stutter?—”

Adam watched his fingers sink in, mouth suddenly dry. Mo opened beautifully. He curled his fingers, searching for Mo’s prostate.

Mo hissed in pleasure. “Looking for extra credit?” A cut-off grunt escaped him. “Good job, you found it. Give me another finger.”

Thank God for a lifetime of following directions—of using his body to do so. Between Mo’s demands and moans of pleasure and the feel of hot, wet muscle clinging to his fingers, Adam’s brain had reached capacity.

“Fuck, baby—yeah, that’s good. I’m ready. Now get this on and fuck me.”

Mo handed him a condom, already unwrapped. Adam took it with slippery fingers and slid it down his length.

Mo turned around and watched him with an assessing gaze, eyes lingering on where Adam gripped the base of his cock. “Still think you can handle the wall?”

Fuck.Adam licked his lips. Swallowed. “Wouldn’t want to break a promise.”

Before he could overthink it, he grabbed Mo’s hand and tugged him toward an empty wall space. Then, once again placing his hands to the back of Mo’s thighs, he lifted.

Mo yelped, then gave a little huffing laugh as he wrapped his arms and legs around Adam and held on. “Okay, I meant we’dbothbe standing, but this’ll work. Assuming your aim is good from here, cowboy.”

Adam pressed Mo against the drywall and pushed inside. He was right—Mo was less annoying when he was getting fucked. Or maybe the sex hormones made Adam more tolerant.

“You really are—ah—eager to please.” Mo dug one hand into the meat of Adam’s shoulder to hold on. He fisted the other in the hair at the back of Adam’s head, pulling just hard enough to give Adam an extra edge. “Aren’t you? No more Captain Cardboard.”

The hated nickname made Adam thrust in even harder. Mo hissed in surprise or satisfaction and then pushed against the wall, forcing Adam back an inch or two. “Come on. Give it to me like I know you want to.”

Adam snapped his hips forward. The heat and clench of Mo around his cock had pleasure lighting up his brain.

But how much better would it feel, whispered the back of his mind, if he made Mo come around him like this? If he could feel that spasming, out-of-control ecstasy as it racked Mo’s body?

It only needed a small adjustment. Adam had lifted Mo too high for good prostate stimulation—better for kissing, since Mo was so short. But Mo was talking too much to kiss anyway.