5. Henry

CHAPTER 5

HENRY

My heartbeat feels as loud as the thunder outside, shaking the windows in their panes. I want to run, but I also want to face my truth.

A hopeful smile spreads across Keane's face. "You think that's the best plan?"

I nod.

"Okay, then." He opens his arms, and I take the invitation to straddle his lap. His hands stay at his sides, almost like he's scared to touch me. To break that seal. Finally, he cradles my face between his palms and looks at me, desire clear in his eyes. "Are we doing this?"

I swallow and nod. "When we have to talk to Kerrigan, is CUPID going to be our excuse? Because we're lying to ourselves if we think he's not going to find out."

"We'll deal with Kerrigan," Keane assures me. "If there's a reason to tell him about us, and I think there will be, we'll be straightforward with him."

"Okay," I whisper.

"What about your anxiety? Do you need to wash your hands? Or do you need me to wash mine?"

"No. That's only when I'm going to eat." Keane's expression turns wicked. "Food," I clarify, my cheeks heating. "Food, eating food. I'm good with other things. Licking, or, you know. Kissing. I don't have to wash my hands to kiss. If that's something you'd want."

Keane inhales sharply. "I want you . Plain and simple. I want the man who came to my door in nothing but the most outrageous shorts. The man who some computer program thinks is perfect for me. The man I've enjoyed chatting with. The man I found under the awning. I like what's underneath this." He gestures down my body. "But I also think you're beautiful as fuck. I know this is a little unconventional?—"

"If you're feeling weird about it—" I start.

Keane sits up and kisses me, his hands resting just under my jaw.

Oh, God.

His kiss is searing . I don't know what weather phenomena are going on, but I know that the atmosphere is charged . His tongue dips inside my mouth, and I open for him, kissing him back.

Heaven. Utter heaven.

We break apart, panting, and I study him.

"Such a good boy," he murmurs, and I shiver with pleasure. "Do you like it when I call you that?"

I nod and bite my lip. "Very much." I clear my throat and walk my fingers up his chest. "I like the praise."

"You could use more encouragement and support."

"Maybe. Sometimes …" I lean down and kiss him again. Then I say against his lips, "I want a man to take charge, but in a specific way. I don't want to be bossed around. But …" I throw my hands out helplessly. "I guess I want someone to listen to what I don't say. Like that's easy." I snort.

"It's easy if they're paying attention."

I pull him to me, and our lips meet in another kiss that feels right. It feels like electricity. Like the light is going on, and I can see inside the formerly dark rooms of my life.

It's also hot as hell, because he's really good at this. Keane is in his own league. He's not even on the same planet as anyone I've kissed before.

I may have started this kiss, but he's dominating it now. Except I decide I'm not going to let him. I give it right back to him—a fight, almost, of a kiss—and he makes a grumbly noise in the back of his throat that turns me on even more.

One of his hands snakes down to my waist, and I press forward, grinding against him.

I fucking love this.

He sucks on my neck, and I let out a shuddery moan. "Do that again," I whisper.

Keane chuckles and complies—not hard enough to leave a mark, but certainly hard enough that it's getting me closer to the edge.

"What do you want, sweetheart? Tell me."

"I want you to do whatever you want to me." I want Keane to use me. I want to see him come unglued.

He inhales sharply and pulls back, those sapphire eyes studying me. Then he kisses me deep and slow, his tongue twining with mine. I'm so turned on that my dick is a solid pole, starting to peek over the top of my borrowed sweatpants.

"Let me see you naked," he whispers. "I love seeing you in my clothes, but now I want to see you take them off. Slowly."

While old me would probably feel self-conscious about this, Keane makes me feel both seen and secure. He makes me hot, too, and if he wants to see me, I'll let him. I don't think my body is anything special—not like how built he is—but it's not bad.

Biting my lip, I get up, shuck off my borrowed socks, and then decide to have some fun with this. I turn around and ease up the loose T-shirt so that just a sliver of my skin is exposed.

My ass is one of my best features. I know this. And Keane reaches out as if to squeeze it, then stops himself. Like he's delaying the pleasure.

After teasing him a bit, I turn around and pull the T-shirt over my head from the back, smiling at him shyly.

He makes no move to hurry me up or say I'm doing anything wrong. His eyes are heated, and he seems all the more tempted by what I'm not doing as by what I'm doing.

I notice the huge erection in his pants, and that makes my heart leap.

Fuck. Yes .

Finally, I drop the shirt to the floor. That leaves me standing in too-big sweatpants, which I let slip down to expose my hip bone and the tip of my dick. Then I return to Keane and straddle his legs, brushing my dick against his thigh as I do it.

He groans, and while I can tell he wants to touch me, he keeps his hands firmly on the arms of the chair.

I start a lap dance. That's not something I'm familiar with doing, but I can move a little bit, and I like the way he's watching me. I slide my hand into the sweats, stroking myself. I'm commando, and that feels more intimate than I expected.

Keane tsks. "Naughty boy," he warns. "That's for me to do."

"I can't help it," I whimper. "You're just so hot." I bite my lip. "I had this discussion with my best friend about expectations of putting out on the first date."

Immediately, Keane holds his hands up. "You don't have to?—"

"Shh." I cut him off with a kiss, then back away enough that he can see my face. "I want this. Want you . I just think it's funny that all my fears go away when I'm with you."

His startlingly blue eyes soften at that statement, and he reaches up and tugs me to him for more kisses. We taste like tea and muffins, and frankly, if there's something better than it storming outside and me making out with the guy I have a crush on after drinking tea—well, I don't want to hear about it. This is peak life for me.

We keep kissing, and his hands slip down into my clothes— his clothes—until he's gripping my bare ass.

I whine. My cock is so sensitive, so ready to blow. Being here on top of him is just too much.

Keane seems to sense this, as he pulls back and tilts his head. "You need to come?" His voice is low and husky.

I don't even bother pretending. "I do. So badly."

"And you can come more than once, can't you? I mean, in a short time?"

I nod.

"Then I want to see you come right now, but I'd like you to do two things."

"Wha-what are they?"

"Stay on my lap. I want you here with me. And if you get any on my skin, you have to lick it off me."

"Deal," I say immediately.

"Touch yourself, sweetheart," he murmurs, and I do.

I reach inside the pants again and start stroking, my ass bouncing a little on Keane's thighs. He watches my face at first, but then gets distracted by the movement of my hand. I'm not trying to get myself off fast. I just want to feel good, so I'm taking my time. I caress my balls: one, then the other. I press under my taint. And then I grip the base of my cock, holding it for a moment.

He still can't see my dick. But he can tell what I'm doing from the expression on my face and the way my arm moves, and I can tell he's getting off on this. I am, too. I'm feeling so free.

I continue jacking myself inside the soft fabric, feeling wanton. Like I'm an exhibitionist. I'm putting on a show—except it's very real in multiple regards. First, I want to turn him on. And second, this is how I actually pleasure myself. I want to show him this part of me.

Keane is a safe place.

"Fuck, that's so hot," he whispers. I'm not sure what he's referring to, but when I shift to find a better position, the pants slide down a little more, and he takes the opportunity to put his hands on my hips, holding me.

"I love it when you touch me," I admit.

"Then I'll do it some more." He slides his hands around my ass, palming the globes of my butt and squeezing. I wriggle as I stroke myself, and his hands keep exploring. Then he raises a finger and puts it in my mouth. "Suck," he commands, and I do.

He groans, and then he moves his hand down, seeking my entrance.

Gently, he presses in as I rub one out on top of him, and I gasp, "Oh, God."

His other hand holds me in place, and I pick up speed as his finger penetrates me, starting to open me up. The intrusion is welcome. I want this so much. I want him .

I want him to fuck me, but this teasing is also doing very good things.

My strokes are reaching a fever pitch. "I'm going to come," I whimper.

His finger slides deeper, and between that and my hand on my dick, I come apart on top of him, my come spurting over my fist and onto his forearm.

I pant, letting my climax happen, letting my body shudder with pleasure, letting myself be with this man I've had a crush on for so long.

Then I collapse on top of him, far from sated. This took the edge off, but now I'm even more impatient for him to touch me. I want him inside me. I want him to take over.

"Lick," he says, holding out his wrist where some of my come ended up. And I do, dutifully tasting my salty, bitter release.

Then he kisses me. "You're the most beautiful boy. How would you like me to make love to you now?" He's holding my face gently between his big hands—like I'm something precious. Something he wants to take care of.

And while I love that, I also want to see him unleashed.

"There's time for tender lovemaking later," I say. "Right now, I want you to fuck me."