Page 37 of Tempted By the Safety

“I’m surprised you only noticed that now,” I finally say.

Then we move at the same time. His hands come up and take my face, palms hot along my jaw, and I get a fistful of the back of his top. We crash into each other’s mouths, and it hurts, but neither of us slows down for it.

I get my hands under his thighs and lift him onto the desk. A pen cup goes over on the far side, pens rolling. His knees come apart and I step in between them and he pulls me in by the shirt. I put my hands flat on the desk on either side of his hips and crowd forward until he’s arching to keep hold of my mouth.

“Spencer,” he says against my lips.

I take his mouth again, his fingers pushing up into my hair.

He hooks a leg around the back of mine and pulls me closer, and I let him, and for the first time in three weeks I stop asking myself what I’m allowed to want and just take it.

14

Milo

Spencer’s mouth is hot against mine, and my lips feel swollen from how long we’ve been kissing. We’re both naked from the waist up, and his rough palms slide up my sides, making me shiver when his thumbs brush my nipples. He grabs my ass with both hands and lifts me like I weigh nothing. I wrap my legs around him on instinct, arms looping around his neck.

“Where are we going, boss?”

He growls against my jaw. “Stop calling me boss.”

I grin, tightening my legs around his waist. “Okay, sir.”

He squeezes my ass hard, fingers digging in near the crease. I yelp, and the laugh that follows cuts off when he kisses me again and walks us toward the door without breaking stride.

“The first time I fuck you, I want it to be on a proper bed.”

“Bold assumption,” I manage, “that you’re the one who’ll be doing the fucking.”

He freezes mid-step and looks at me. His eyes are dark, pupils blown, and his face has gone careful.

I kiss the corner of his mouth. “Just kidding. We’re on the same page. Although seeing you in that jockstrap did give me some ideas about—”

I don’t get to finish because Spencer kisses me, swallowing the rest of the sentence whole, one hand sliding up into my hair to hold me right where he wants me. I forget what I was even saying.

His bedroom is bigger than I remember from the one time he walked me through the house on day one. I’d registered gray walls and a huge bed, nothing else. He crosses it in about four strides and sets me down on the edge of the mattress.

Spencer kneels in front of the bed and peels off my sneakers first, then my socks, then works my shorts down my legs, taking his time even though his hands aren’t steady. He stands, hooks his thumbs into his own waistband, and shoves his sweatpants and briefs down in one motion. His cock springs free, hard and flushed dark at the head. I can’t stop staring.

“It’s getting awfully lonely over here,” I say, my voice rough.

He sets his knees on the mattress on either side of my hips, the bed dipping under his weight. “Turn over.”

I follow the order, rolling onto my stomach. The comforter’s soft against my chest, my cock trapped against my belly.

Spencer shifts behind me, and his mouth lands on my neck, open and wet. I shudder. He kisses down the column of my spine, using his teeth at the top, his tongue in the hollow of my shoulder blade, his lips brushing each vertebra like he’s counting them. When he reaches the small of my back, he bites, making me gasp. Then he’s kissing lower, over the rise of my ass, and I’m trembling, my hips shifting without my permission.

He bites my left cheek, then my right, and I yelp and laugh and moan all at once, the sound muffled in the comforter.

“Turn again.”

I roll onto my back, and my cock slaps against my belly, leaving a wet spot. Spencer’s eyes drop to it, and his jaw sets.

“Spence, you don’t have to,” I start, because I don’t want this to be an obligation.

He ignores me, leaning down and licking me from base to tip, one long stripe that has my hips bucking off the bed and my hands fisting in the sheets. He takes the head into his mouth and sucks, his tongue pressing into the slit, and when he tastes my precum, he moans. I curse and reach for him with both hands, finding his hair and stroking through it, not pushing, just holding on.

“Nobody’s ever—” I say, and catch myself, but too late.