The Dark Horse - lanyon Josh - Страница 24
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«Don't.» The word startled me. Startled him. I said, trying for lightness, trying to hide the desperation, «There's no hurry, right?»
«And no reason to stall, right?» He smiled – and he was either a better actor than me or he really didn't give a damn. He handed the key to me, and like a little kid I put my hands behind my back. «I don't want it.»
He reached around me, took my hand and pulled it forward. Not roughly, but not playing. He pressed the key into my palm.
«The truth is, I never had this.» He folded my fingers around the bite of cool metal. «You were never open to me. Not really.» He turned, opened the door and I reached past him, slamming it shut.
«So … saving my life … that wasn't anything personal. That's just your job, right?»
I couldn't read the expression in his eyes, but his voice was level. «Right. It's my job. And wrong. Of course it's personal. Of course I still have feelings for you. But the bottom line is, it didn't work between us.» He shrugged.
The shrug hurt more than the words – and the words hurt plenty. Mouth dry, I said, «I want to be open to you. If you'll show me how.» He said very gently, «You're still acting, Sean.»
It was like taking a hard and unexpected fall. The air seemed to slam out of my lungs. «I'm not.» «Sean …» He sighed.
I said quickly, «You're going to say it won't change anything. And I guess that's true, but I want to make love to you. One last time. And for the first time.»
He said, still trying to be kind, «It wasn't about sex, Sean. It was about intimacy.»
«And intimacy is about trust. I do get that, Dan.» I controlled my voice. «I still want my first time to be with you.» His eyes flickered.
We were close enough that I could feel his heat, feel the warmth of his breath fanning my face. I held his gaze with mine and I could see the darkness there, the hunger. Into his silence, I whispered, «Isn't ex sex supposed to be the best?»
He put his hand behind my head and pulled me forward, his mouth hard on my own. It was a grinding kiss, an angry kiss, the bump of teeth and the smear of lips. I closed my eyes and opened to him, and almost at once he gentled. We breathed in balmy moist unison until at last he broke contact. He said softly, «You're too good an actor, Sean.»
«You're not being fair to either of us.» I found his hand and put it on my crotch. «I'm not that good. I want you.» He felt me over, and I strained against his hand, craving his touch through the stiff material of my jeans. «Do I have to beg? I will.»
Sick, shameless pervert, said my father's contemptuous voice next to my ear. I closed my ears to that memory, focused on Dan's face. It was a handsome face, but I loved the strength and caring and intelligence more than the trick of bone structure and coloring. I loved him.
My hands went to my fly, and then I rethought that and reached for his. And Dan bit off a sound that could have been a laugh or maybe just impatience, and undid the button at my waist. He pulled, and the buttons popped through the denim, one by one. His big hands, warm and knowledgeable, slid inside my jeans, fastened on my hips.
I pulled his Levis down and his boxers, and his dick sprang free, ready and willing, regardless of whatever his brain was telling him. «You don't have to beg,» Dan said, acknowledging what we both knew to be true. «Bedroom?» I asked hopefully.
He nodded, and then he was pulling his shirt over his head. I stepped out of my jeans, kicked off my boxers, and preceded him into the soft gloom of the bedroom, bouncing down on the bed. I reached for him and he lowered himself beside me.
I was braced for his resentment to play out in roughness or haste, but Dan took his time kissing and caressing every inch of my body: His tongue scraped my nipple in pleasurable chafing, a fingertip lightly scratching the back of my knee; he brushed his nose against mine in a child's Eskimo kiss. I smiled and sighed and relaxed, kissing him back when he'd let me, stroking his lean hard flanks and sides.
«Please …» I whispered. I didn't finish it. Even I wasn't sure what I was really asking. His leaving had left me empty, aching. I wanted to fill that emptiness with memories if nothing else.
At last he helped me over onto my belly. I ignored the tightening in my gut – partly anxiety but mostly desire – and spread my legs. There was no going back now, and I wouldn't if I could have. This was as much for me as for him.
The slide of the drawer, the squirt of the lube. I shivered convulsively as he worked warm lube between my ass cheeks. His finger delicately pierced me. I moaned at the strangely familiar invasion. He paused. «It's not necessary, Sean. You don't have to prove anything.» «Want to …» I wriggled back against his hand, trying to force him to action. «Why?» He didn't so much as twitch his finger. I groaned. «Dan, why are we talking?»
«Because I need to understand what's really happening here.» I heard the pain in his voice, and it startled me. If I could still hurt him, then on some plane he still cared for me.
I swallowed hard. «I'm trying to tell you. Trying to show you. I love you. I want to share this with you. Even if it's … too late for you.» I pushed back against finger. «Please give me this.»
He moved his finger again, and I caught my breath. His oily thumb lightly stroked across the sensitive mouth of my hole. «Keep breathing,» he said.
I whimpered as his thumb pressed in. He massaged, pushed a little deeper, rubbed some more. «Relax.»
I tried. I concentrated on loosening my muscles. The tip of his other thumb slid in and he used both to massage me strongly, widening my entrance. My breaths came in shallow pants as he prepared me. He was tender, but very thorough; I'd said I'd wanted it, and he was taking me at my word. It was intense and invasive, and seemed to go on forever.
My stomach muscles were quivering, and my legs felt like jelly by the time he withdrew. «That didn't hurt, did it?»
I shook my head. I didn't think I could manage my voice. I rolled over onto my back, and tucked my legs up neatly.
He leaned over me, and his mouth found one of my nipples. He tongued it, wet heat turning the tip to a hard point. Distantly I felt the pressure from the blunt head of his shaft building at the entrance of my body, but more immediate was the tease of his lips as he moved to my other nipple. His teeth closed delicately on the bud, and I writhed beneath him, aching for more.
It was almost a relief when the pressure on my hole built to a distracting pain – and then, staggeringly, I felt my body's resistance give.
Dan's cock slipped past the tight ring of muscle. Nerves and muscles spasmed. He was inside me. «Okay?» He seemed to have trouble squeezing even that one word out.
I gulped and nodded. And I was okay. My shivering body was already adjusting to that thickness. I wasn't tearing apart. I was still whole. Still me. I could still breathe. I could still move …
Dan's thighs tightened in response, and he thrust against me, just once. «Don't move yet,» he gasped. His hands continued to stroke and smooth my belly, my ass.
Wonderingly I reached down and touched where our bodies were joined. We were like some astonishing mythological creature – not the monster my parents pictured, but something very old and powerful. I felt wrapped in the wings of an unexpectedly sweet revelation. «How's that?» Dan's voice sounded strained. «H-hey, it's not bad,» I said.
He laughed shakily at the wonder in my voice and cautiously began to rock his hips against me. It was a relief to give up all control and just feel, just let it happen, just ride it out. Not bad? It was actually pretty damn good. «That's it,» he breathed. «Just let go.»
I looked into his face. It was too dark to read his eyes, and I wanted to watch his eyes while he took me. He was pounding me harder now. I began to move too. Awkwardly. My fists clenched on the comforter. Dan's hands slid under my ass and he lifted me up, shoving a pillow beneath my hips. The changed angle sent a jolt of sheer exquisite feeling surging through me. What the hell was that?
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