Chapter 23

TWENTY-THREE

My back hits the bed, and I bounce up and down on the mattress for a single heartbeat before Sutton is all over me.

From the moment we got inside the apartment, we haven’t stopped kissing. I wrap my ankles around Sutton’s back and thrust my hips up until my cock is pushed against his abdomen.

Sutton breaks the kiss for a moment, and as if by some unspoken agreement, we both start unbuttoning each other’s shirts. Impatient fingers fumble with small buttons. I give up and pull his shirt free from his waistband. My hands travel over the smooth planes of his back, stomach, and chest.

He straightens himself above me, chucks the shirt over his head and tosses it on the floor carelessly. He pulls me up enough that he can wrestle my shirt off my shoulders before he tosses it to the side, too. The pants are next to go.

I hook my leg around his hips and roll us over so I’m straddling him. He sends me that lazy smile I love so fucking much.

I lower my body on top of his, and he sucks in a breath, bare skin against bare skin. Everywhere. The silky length of his thick, hard cock is trapped between our bodies, and when he rolls his hips the tiniest bit, the increased pressure makes us both moan.

I lower my head and lick at the bend of Sutton’s neck. He tastes like clean skin and smells of soap and some kind of expensive aftershave. I bite down gently, and he makes a sound. Low and plaintive. A bit helpless. Like he can’t resist me even if he tries.

His fingertips move over my skin, drawing frantic patterns on it as he goes. His hips keep rolling up, rubbing against me, and I’m rocking back. He shifts slightly to the left beneath me so we’re lining up, and the hardness of his cock rubbing against mine lights my insides up like a sparkler.

I’m pushing and rutting against him, chest tight, gut tight, and this feels different from all the other times. This feels more in a way I don’t know how to explain.

He grabs my hips and pushes me back just enough that he can shove his hand between us. His fingers circle me, his grip strong and sure and knowledgeable in a way that surpasses even my own hand on myself.

I buck against him, a mess of gasping breaths and pure need, fucking into his fist. My skin burns where his fingers grip me.

I lower my head to kiss his throat and nibble on his collarbone. I suck the skin between my lips. I’ve never thought about leaving a mark on somebody’s skin, but right now there’s a deep craving, a desperate urge to leave fingerprints on Sutton’s skin and suck hickeys into his neck. To leave marks that will last. Some kind of visible, tangible proof that this is mine and for me to keep and all along, there’s this desperate, horrible, lovely ache that throbs inside my chest.

I work my way down his body, free to explore every part of him. For weeks I’ve learned everything about Sutton. Every secret of his body. I’ve conducted thorough research. I know every sensitive spot on his skin.

I know he hates it when I circle his belly button with my finger, but he loves it when I use my tongue.

He’s ticklish as fuck on the left side of his rib cage.

He arches and gasps beneath me when I play with his nipples. I know I can reduce him to a moaning, incoherent mess when I suck and lick them until they pebble into hard points, wet and overly sensitive from my mouth.

And then when I move lower, he can’t keep his hips still. I kiss the center of his chest and lick down over the ridges of his abs. I dip my tongue into his belly button, and his cock jerks against my chin. The tip is damp with precum.

I swipe over the head with my tongue. His hips cant up, and I kiss the soft flesh between his rib cage and hip and swipe my tongue over the hip bone, working it lower until I can drag it through the crease between his thigh and crotch.

There’s desperation now.

His hands are in my hair, pushing my head lower.

“Come on,” he chants. “Come on. Come on. Come on . Please.”

He’s hard and hot and shameless, thrusting his hips up suggestively. I reach up and flick his nipple, and he groans as his cock jerks.

“Evil,” he manages to gasp as he tries to rub himself against my thigh.

Goose bumps run over my spine because I get to see him like this. Not the put together, cocky, arrogant rich boy he shows the rest of the world. This here is mine. My Sutton.

I lower my head and take him in my mouth.

He lets out a long, low groan of relief.

I suck the head, and Sutton lets out a string of curse words. His hands grip my hair, and he widens his thighs for me.

He tastes salty, and I squeeze the base with one hand and tease the tip with my tongue before I swallow him down again. I slide my hand lower and tug gently at his balls as I go down on him.

“Christ, you’re hot like this,” he rasps, and when I lift my gaze, I find him looking at me. I suck harder.

The muscles in his thighs tighten, and his whole body strains.

“I’m gonna come,” he warns in a breathless voice.

It takes a lot of self-control to pull my mouth away from him.

His chest heaves with sharp breaths.

“Don’t tease. Suck,” he gasps.

I snort out a laugh and fist my own dick for a second to get a moment of relief.

“Will you fuck me?” I say.

He goes comically still, eyes wide and careful as he takes me in.

“Right now?” he asks.

I shrug as casually as I can, which is not very.

“Unless you require fucking to be scheduled a few weeks beforehand?”

He pinches my thigh in reply, and I jerk in surprise. I cock my brow in question. Or a challenge. I have no idea what I’m doing here.

He still isn’t saying anything, so I roll my eyes.

“I know what I want. So just do it.”

His lips pull into a slow grin.

“Aye-aye, Captain,” he says. And then he’s on me. So quickly, I don’t really even register the movement, but I’m suddenly on my back with Sutton above me.

His eyes are full of determination as he presses a hard kiss to my lips, and before I take another breath, he rolls me over on my stomach. He kisses my shoulder blade and then his lips trail to the nape of my neck.

He lies on top of me, blanketing my whole body. I widen my legs a bit, so his cock slips snugly between my thighs, where it rests against the underside of my balls, silky and warm. Another shiver runs over my spine. His hands rub my shoulders and slide down my sides. It’s like a full body massage that makes me melt into the soft mattress.

He bites the curve of my neck, just above my shoulder, slowly rutting against me from behind until I start to push my ass up to meet him. Sutton reaches out his arm, opens the drawer of his nightstand, and takes out a bottle of lube and condoms.

I’m not nervous. Not exactly. Maybe just not sure if I’ll live up to the expectations. Sutton shifts onto his side on his elbow. His thigh is still thrown over my lower back. The click of the cap sounds very loud in the otherwise quiet room.

When he puts his palm on the small of my back, I jerk in surprise.

His hand stills.

“Okay?” he asks.

I lick my lips and nod.

In response, he trails his palm from my back to the underside of my left ass cheek.

“Spread your legs a little,” he murmurs.

I do as he says. He keeps rubbing my ass cheek until I relax again before he brushes his thumb along the crease between my cheeks.

I swallow, and I’m pretty sure it’s audible.

Sutton’s hand stops moving.

“Keep going,” I say, and it comes off sounding mostly annoyed. At myself, but I’m not so sure it translates.

His hand starts moving again. His fingers stroke between my cheeks. Again.

I’m pretty sure I’m as rigid as a slab of concrete, so that’s clearly sexy.

But Sutton doesn’t seem to be taken aback by my inability to relax. His lips latch on to the nape of my neck again, and he kisses his way down my spine. Light, soft kisses. Like butterfly wings on my skin.

His fingers disappear from my crease for a moment, but then they’re back—wet, this time. He presses the tip of his finger against my opening and circles it. Over and over and over again, with no apparent intent to go any further with the digit. The only thing he does is to turn us both on our sides and push my leg up.

And then he goes back to what he was doing.

Fingers still circling my hole until I’m not tense anymore. Until I get used to the feeling. When I finally dare to take a look over my shoulder, his eyes are on his fingers, watching every move. My cheeks flush with heat. The look on his face makes me hot and bothered but also intensely self-conscious. My cock strains against my stomach, and there’s no friction to take the edge off.

“Are you going to put it in or not?” I ask. Snippy. I don’t want to sound snippy. But I sound snippy. And self-conscious. And I feel inexperienced in a very distinct way.

He lifts his gaze to mine and smiles. His amused smile.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a long, long time. You’re insane if you think I’m going to rush through it now.”

“You’re supposed to cross the finish line when you’re at it, not… dillydally in front of it,” I say primly.

He starts to laugh, and his fingers vibrate against my opening.

“Did you just say dillydally?” he asks.

He laughs even harder when I punch him in the thigh.

But then I’m smiling because he’s laughing, and somewhere in there, my body relaxes, and Sutton’s finger pushes inside me.

I suck in a breath.

“Oh,” I say, and it’s not so much a word as a rush of air past my lips.

“Look at you,” Sutton says, almost reverently. He pulls the finger out again and goes back to circling it around the rim in slow, almost lazy strokes.

The finger dips back inside. Just the tip. More circling.

It happens again and again. The tip of his finger delves in and slides back out. Teasing little touches that coax my body into responding and make my breath hitch in anticipation.

Then deeper. Briefly. Ever so briefly.

And out again.

He continues doing that. Working his finger inside me in countless tiny thrusts. His lips move over my upper back and shoulder and neck.

Then he adds a second finger, and it starts all over again. Circling my hole. The tips of his fingers in my ass. More pressure this time. A tighter fit. He pulls back. A strategic retreat. But only for a second. Then he’s teasing me open again until he’s knuckle deep inside me, and then more.

It’s been a long time since I’ve done this. Or had it done to me, to be more precise. Mostly I remember the discomfort. The constant twinge of pain.

But Sutton is opening me up so patiently and gradually that there’s none of that. Just the slippery, wet heat of his fingers moving in and out of me, curling just at the right spot until every muscle is loose and relaxed.

And still he keeps going. He eases his fingers in and out. Lazy, teasing strokes.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Until my thighs are straining, my dick is weeping, and my hole is so sensitive that even the slightest brush of his fingertips makes my cock jerk painfully. My body is covered in sweat because he’s fucking edging me, and I can’t come.

When he pulls his fingers out again and starts to push them back inside, I clench my ass.

“Give me more,” I grit through my teeth, “or I swear to God, I will fucking murder you.”

In reply, he pushes his fingers back inside.

“Ask me nicely,” he rasps, and he sounds hoarse and desperate and on edge, just like me.

Goose bumps travel over my skin at the look he sends me, eyes dark with desire.

“Please,” I gasp.

He twists his fingers and strokes over my prostate.

My whole body seems to seize up for a moment, and I let out a hoarse sob when pleasure coils deep inside me, thick and heavy and hot.

“Please,” I repeat with more desperation.

“Baby.” He kisses my shoulder, sounding almost reverent. “Fuck, just look at you.” My only consolation is that he sounds as wrecked as I feel.

Those soft feelings lessen somewhat when he pulls his fingers out again, adds a third one, and starts the slow in-and-out-again torture all over again.

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” I say again.

His huff of laughter vibrates through me.

“This is torture for me too, you know.”

“Then do something about it,” I snap.

He just hums in reply, and for a while, the slow torture continues. I try to jerk my hips backward in short thrusts in time with his movements, but he’s too unpredictable, so in the end all it does is create more frustration.

“Next time I’ll let you fuck yourself on my fingers,” he murmurs into my ear. “For now, behave.”

“Asshole,” I say, but I hold still as best as I can.

Sutton hums again.

“Yours is perfect,” he says.

Another shiver rushes down my spine.

I give up.

He can do whatever the hell he wants with me, and I’ll just try not to die from desperation while he’s at it.

He’s three fingers deep inside me now, stroking and massaging, and all I can do is hold on for the ride, half-insane with need and an all-around incoherent mess.

So when he pulls his fingers out altogether, I can’t handle it.

“Please,” I practically sob out. “Oh, please, don’t. You can’t stop.”

“Not stopping,” Sutton grunts. “Baby,” he adds, and it sounds soft, even if his eyes are wild and his body tight when I look at him over my shoulder.

He tears the condom open and rolls it down his length. He pushes my leg up and then the head of his cock is nudging at my opening, and this isn’t just a finger anymore, but even so, my ass is in such a state of relaxation that it doesn’t take him any effort to work the tip of his cock inside me.

He starts pushing in, slow and easy. The stretch is still accompanied by a faint burn, but it’s not bad. After a moment, it starts to feel like just another component of pleasure. Something that makes the pleasure sharper. More real.

He’s inside me then, hips flush against my ass.

We both let out simultaneous groans.

He waits until my body adjusts.

I roll my hips experimentally, and he lets out a long, “Fuuuuuck!”

“You need to move,” I say tightly, pushing back. “You really need to fucking move, so fucking move.”

“Wren,” he says.

I snap my head back and pin him with a look.

“Fuck me right the fuck now,” I snarl.

He finally, finally starts to move. His thrusts are deep and steady, and they make my nerve endings light up like fireworks all over my body.

I push back as he moves, urging him on. He wraps his arms around my chest and rocks against me in long, smooth thrusts that make my ass clench around him. And when he angles his hips just so, a burst of heat rushes through my belly, and I let out a loud moan.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps.

Then it’s just friction and heat and need that builds low in my belly where it spreads outward.

Sutton’s cock stretches me open, pushes so deep inside me that I finally feel like every aching spot of emptiness is full.

I turn my head back, and we kiss, all teeth, tongues, and wet heat.

The slap of skin fills the room, accompanied by groans and gasps, until I feel like if I don’t come, I might just die. I try to warn Sutton, because somewhere there’s a hazy part of my brain that insists that Sutton wouldn’t like it if I died, and he’d fix it and make it right, but I can’t get the words out. The only thing that escapes my lips are desperate, incomprehensible pleas that sound more like sobs.

“I know, baby,” Sutton says hoarsely. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

He lifts his hand and spits, then wraps it around my aching cock. His grip is strong, bordering on too much, because as soon as he’s touching me, the orgasm rolls toward me, and suddenly I’m so overwhelmed I don’t know if I can even handle it because it’s all too much. My toes curl and my whole body tenses.

Sutton’s next thrust is pure violence. He slams into me so hard both our bodies move forward on the bed.

I come with a loud shout. I come so hard it hurts.

The rush of release claws through me and leaves me flayed open and unable to hide anything.

Sutton slams inside me over and over again, and each thrust sends waves of aftershocks through me before his arms tighten, and with one final thrust, his cock pulses inside me. He stays very still, plastered against me from head to toe, face buried in the curve of my neck, chest falling and rising with rapid breaths.

Recovery is like picking up pieces scattered all around me and putting them back together to make something new. I’m still me, but all new.

And this new Wren? This new Wren wants more. This new Wren isn’t so sure he can deal with keeping Sutton for now. This new Wren wants everything .

Especially after Sutton kisses the side of my neck and murmurs, “Be here. With me.” He sounds drunk. Drunk on me.

And then promptly falls asleep.

And I lie awake for a long time.

And love him.

I love him so much it hurts.

And that’s a fucking problem.