Page 55 of Parting Shot

Slowly, carefully, he eased from my body and then slid sideways, thigh still draped over my ass, hand in my hair, as I rolled my head to look at him. The softness in his eyes was like a punch in the gut. I couldn’t dance around it. I wanted to keep him.

“Oh man.” He grinned, taking hold of a corner of the flat sheet and wiping cum off my abdomen. “That should not be so ridiculously hot.”

I waggled my eyebrows as he laughed and yanked the sheet up, untucking enough so he could wad up a portion and cover the wet spot.

“Thanks,” I teased, leaning forward to kiss him.

His hand went around the back of my neck as he guided me to him, our lips locking together, melding, each inhaling the other in the frantic, desperate dance of reconnection. It was ravenous and sweet and building, but suddenly, he jolted back, leaving me gasping for breath.

“What?”

His hand was on my right wrist, and he rolled it so the long scar was visible up my forearm. “This is new.”

“Yeah,” I agreed before trying to kiss him again.

He tipped his head away. “Why is there a scar?”

“I want to kiss you.”

“I want an answer.”

My sigh was loud. “They had to put pins in it because after it was broken, I was cuffed in a stress position instead of just a normal one, so the angle jacked up how the bones lined up and then––”

“Okay,” he cut me off, letting me go before tracing over the scar on my left shoulder.

I grinned. “Why’d you ask me if you didn’t want to––”

“This is a bit close to your heart.”

He was definitely preoccupied with my injuries. “But it wasn’t, and I didn’t die, so can we drop it?”

“You could have died.”

“But I didn’t, so could––Aaron!” The yell was caused by the pouncing, by having him all over me, pinning me under him on the bed, wrists over my head, held down tight.

“Could have lost you,” he murmured against my mouth before he claimed it, kissing me hard and deep.

All his longing, worry, and pain were translated into heat and need as he mauled me, biting, tugging on my bottom lip, sucking, and rubbing his tongue over mine.

His hands moved to my face, and he held me immobile as he feasted. I lifted one of mine to the small of his back, the other closing around his thickening cock.

“Duncan,” he gasped, “please.”

Grabbing him, I rolled us both over so that our positions were switched with him on his back. “Aaron.”

He shivered, and I reached for the lube and slicked my cock before sliding a slippery finger deep inside him. The way he arched up off the bed, reaching for me at the same time, made my dick leak.

“I want you inside,” he moaned as I added a finger, two inside, scissoring, rubbing, massaging, and then curled forward and slid over his gland.

“And I want you ready for me.”

“Always ready for you, always want you,” he rasped, almost angry. “Almost lost you, and I can’t … it’s all I can feel.”

“Not anymore,” I promised.

His eyes fluttered as I added a third finger, a fine sheen of sweat breaking out over his neck and chest.

“Have me.”