2. Zane

When Maddox takes me out to a dance club a few nights later, I’m a little nervous but a lot excited too. This might be just the right moment.

We find a spot in the corner of the dance floor. The music reverberates in my bones. The dark lights surround us, shrouding us in the sense of nighttime and dirty deeds. The place is packed. Bodies grinding together. Swaying together. Moving.

Usually, I pull him against me, grind against his ass, make my desire to top him known. He loves that. But tonight I move in front of him.

I wrap his arm around my waist and I press my back to his chest so there’s no space between us. The music thumps too loud for us to hear each other, but I feel the surprised gasp fall from his lips. Then there’s a pause, where he does nothing, maybe rerouting all his thoughts.

I can sense the slight bit of uncertainty from him, so I squeeze his hand against my abs. I’m a tad nervous but I’m determined too, and I know how to send him the reassurance that he needs. I hold both his arms tightly against me so he knows I want this and so I’m leading this dance even from this position. Like that, I grind against his hard length. I lean my head back, turn my face to his and I press a hot kiss to his jaw. Encouraging him to slide into this moment with me.

As I kiss him, he unlocks. His uncertainty seems to slip away. We move together in a brand-new rhythm. With him behind me and me in front of him. But I’m still setting the pace and it feels so fucking good.

I’m hot and sweaty and buzzed on him and you’d have to peel us apart to separate us. After several songs, I’m so turned on. So much that when we stumble out of the club, breathless and aroused, I keep up this pace. Backing up to the stone wall of the building on the street. Dragging him against me. I grab his face and I go for it. “I have a fantasy,” I say.

His eyes sparkle with desire. “Tell me,” he says, sounding on the edge of his seat.

As I begin to tell him the story of a new fantasy, I hope he’ll pick up this one too like we always do.

“Me tying you up,” I say, playing with the neckline of his shirt.

His dark eyes glimmer. “You fastening me to every corner of our bed.”

He’s reading my fucking mind.

“Me kissing you all over.”

“You driving me crazy,” he says.

But see, he drives me crazy too, and I want something else.

This.

I slide my hand down to the outline of his thick cock, and I squeeze hard. “Me getting you ready,” I rasp out.

This is a desire I haven’t spoken before. But I hope he’ll meet it. I hope he’ll want it. And I hope I haven’t terrified my guy.

This second, Maddox is hard to read. His dark eyes are full of question marks. He says nothing for several long seconds and it’s up to me to keep going. To spell it all the way out so there’s no confusion.

“Me, slicking you up for me,” I continue, making my intentions black and white.

Maddox is starkly quiet. His face stoic.

Shit. I hope he’s not freaked out. But Maddox isn’t scared. Ever. He is pragmatic though so he grabs my hand from his cock, removes it, then drops the fantasy play.

“You want me to fuck you while I’m tied up?”

I love his directness, but he’s a little bit wrong. I shake my head. “No. I want to tie you up. Drive you wild. Play with your cock. And then I want to fuck your cock.”

The corner of his lips twitch. A grin spreads slow and easy. Then all at once it takes over his face. He gets it now. He gets me. Maddox slides a hand down my chest, stopping at the waistband of my jeans. “You want to top me from the bottom,” he says.

I nod savagely. “Maddox, I fucking love your cock. I’m dying to know what it feels like to fuck it. I want to ride this big, beautiful dick into the night,” I say.

There. I’ve laid it out. I’ve shared my Everest fantasy. But there is one aspect of this that’s vitally important. “But I only want to if you do. It’s a fantasy, but I love our reality,” I add.

I want him to know that. Desperately . We don’t need to change a thing if he doesn’t want to.

He leans in, kisses my neck, works his way up to my ear, then nips on my lobe. And he whispers, “I had a feeling you’d want this eventually.”

“You’re my Mount Everest,” I say, with a small shrug.

“Then climb me. Because it’s there.”