Selfie (30 page)

The plug popped out, and I nudged his elbow with the back of my hand. “Put this in the sink, willya?”

“Yeah but—”

I licked his stretched asshole, and he took it from me. I heard the thing drop into the sink with a clatter.

“Connor?” He whined my name; there was something he needed.

I licked again, and again, and reached around front and ran a tentative finger around his cock.

Like mine, it was getting hard again.

He grunted and thrust back against my tongue, and I blessed him for getting the good lube—not flavored but not slimy either. In fact, it was tangy, a little like cum, and I didn’t mind imagining that it was
my
cum I was tasting, because I’d just taken him, and needed to taste him again.

“Do it,” Noah ordered, his voice far away. “C’mon, Connor, do it.”

My cock throbbed to the command in his voice. I grabbed his hips and hauled myself up, then smoothed my hands down his back. I pressed my whole body along the length of his and nuzzled his ear. “Yeah?”

“Please,” he whispered, begging and ordering in the same breath.

I shuddered. He could not know what that did to me, to be told what to do, to be needed, to be wanted so badly.

His hole clenched, wet and tight, around my cockhead as I breached his entrance, and then it clamped down, sucking me in, tighter, deeper, until I was plastered against his back, spreading his ass cheeks so I could get closer, closer . . .

I wrapped my arms around his slender waist, and welcomed the weight of one of his hands, holding me to him, stroking my wrists with his thumb.

“Good?” His voice was strained, breathy.

I half sobbed, wiping my cheek against his shoulder blade and pulling my hips back. “Yes . . . God, so good. I need . . .”

“Move, baby. I want it too.”

I snapped my hips forward, and the sound he made was filthy and, the shudder that rocked his body resonated deep in my balls.

“Oooooh . . .”

I pulled back until I stretched him, and then—

“Ooooh . . .”

Slow. I’d just climaxed; my body could take it slow, right? I moved slowly, powerfully, feeling like every pump was so deep he could press his stomach and feel my cock pressing back. Slow. Slow. Slow.

Noah let go of my wrist and started thrusting back,
hard
, every time I thrust forward.

“You enjoying this?” he panted.

“God yes!”

“You like going slow?”

I whimpered. It was hard.

“You wanna, I dunno,
fuck me hard and fast
?”

“
Oh my God, yes
!”

The fucking magnificent power! I clenched one hand on his hip and reached up and grabbed that soft, glossy hair, pulling his head back as he thrust out his behind. And then I hung on for the ride.

“
Faster, Connor, harder
!
Oh fuck, oh fuck, that’s it, hit that, hit that, hit that c’mon, Connor, you fuck me so fucking good
!”

He howled that last word, and his arms gave out, his face pressed against the wall, his body clenching so tightly around my dick I couldn’t move, probably couldn’t pull all the way out if I’d wanted to. I stayed inside him, rutting, trying so hard to just catch that spot, that one place on my cock, that . . . that . . .

Noah cried out. “
Right there
!” and apparently that was the spot for both of us.

My body rolled forward, clenching to Noah’s, and I let go of his hair and hip so I could grab his shoulders and hold on for one long, bone-rattling come.

I collapsed against him, the semen from my second climax easing my passage out of his backside. Messy. We were both messy, outside and in, sweaty, covered in fluids, and I didn’t care. I wrapped my arms around his waist again, wanting to roll in him.

“Wanna shower?” he asked, words muffled against the wall.

“No.”

He laughed and pushed off the wall enough to turn and hold me. I laid my head against his chest and listened to his heart thumping, strong, sure, and slowing down from what must have been a hell of a gallop.

“No? That’s sort of dirty,” he teased.

“I like dirty,” I mumbled. I was surprised my knees could still hold me. “I like sexy, filthy, dirty you all over and in me.”

He quivered all over and gathered me tighter. “Talking like
that
will get you fucked again, and that might kill us both.”

I looked up at him, so mellow all I could do was smile. “Can we go together?” I asked soberly. It was all I asked.

He startled, as though he’d just realized what he’d done with his careless hyperbole. Then he kissed my forehead, as though in benediction.

“Yeah,” he promised. “If at all possible, we can go together.”

“’Kay,” I said, half-asleep on my feet. “Let’s do that.”

He steered me to bed then, still dripping on both ends, and slid me between the sheets. He kissed my temple and told me he’d be back after he took a piss and cleaned the jizz off the wall.

I giggled at that, and was still giggling when he came back to bed. I groped him without finesse just to make sure, and my fingertips came back sticky.

“No, you big baby,” he muttered, laughing. “I didn’t wash.”

“Good.”

I didn’t want to talk anymore, not to Noah, not to Vinnie.
Especially
not to Vinnie. Perfect. I couldn’t remember, not once, feeling this perfect after sex.

This
was why men fell asleep when they came. They wanted to remember life this way.

Sometime in the night, Noah rolled over and simply took me, thrusting into my body gently until we both grunted and spent what little our bodies had left.

He fell asleep immediately, but I lingered on the edge, thinking,
Noah. Noah is inside me.
I could see him, sort of a dazzling light around a warm, solid darkness at my back. I remembered when Vinnie had done this, and I’d always been confused—mostly asleep and in the dark, Vinnie had been a cock, a hand, hips slapping against my ass, but not a person.

Noah was
Noah
.

He was different.

I woke up to the smell of body wash and steam coming from the bathroom—and bacon and potatoes coming from downstairs.

Noah’s here.

The thought shot me out of bed and into the shower—which was still warm—and I scrubbed quickly and carefully.

Yeah. Riding a bicycle was not going to be on the agenda today.

Ass, asshole, inner thighs, outer thighs, biceps, triceps, stomach muscles—Jesus, and I was in shape! It all ached, as though I’d spent the night flexing in a killer session of Pilates instead of getting laid.

My rim was sensitized—the slightest touch made my body sing, and then all those sore parts groaned in unison.
Holy God, man, give us a break! You can’t fuck all weekend!

Wanna make a bet?

But I wasn’t so gone into sexy-sexy land that I didn’t remember I had some family obligations.

I had to buy Noah’s grandmother a present, and show up at a birthday party. I had to meet Noah’s little sisters and his father and sit at their table and be charming and hopefully not phony even a little and make them like me for
me
, not the movie star but for
Connor
, the real person.

It was sort of daunting and a little bit exhilarating.

I was going to meet Noah’s family as a boyfriend.

Noah was right—for all of the things I claimed to have done, when it came right down to it, I had very little on my résumé.

Wait—I
was
going to meet them as a boyfriend, right?

“Noah?” I asked a few minutes later, coming down the stairs dressed and finger-fluffing my hair. “What are we?”

“What?” Noah stuck his head out of the kitchen so he could see me. “No product today?” To make sure.

“Shit— Wait— I’ll go—”

“No, that’s fine. You look sort of adorable without it. What was the question?”

“What are we?”

Noah looked up and to the right, then to the left, like he was searching his files for the appropriate context. “Men?”

“No!”

“
Gay
men?”

“No— I mean
yes
but that’s not what I’m asking.”

“Then help me out here, baby, I’m lost.”

He was wearing a plain white chef’s apron over his T-shirt and cargo shorts. He looked like he lived here—anything but lost.

“Are you burning my bacon?”

“No, because it’s all cooked, and even
that
sounds dirty after last night.” He grinned, all sexy, and I walked right into his arms and kissed him. Mmm . . . yeah. That hadn’t changed either. Still good.

He pulled back and grimaced. “And
you
are a distraction. What were you asking me again?”

I turned toward the kitchen and the giant piles of potatoes, bacon, eggs, and toast on the table.

“Holy God. Are we having the whole cast for breakfast?”

Noah pinkened. “Uh—actually—”

“We have
company
?”

“Well, Viv texted. She and Cheddar broke up, and she didn’t have a gift either, and I told her to come by and we’d eat, and then go get something from town.”

“Viv broke up with Cheddar?” I asked, sort of sad. “I mean . . . she seemed so in love with him—I had hopes!”

Noah’s smile made his cheeks apple. “The other way around. But
you
are a
romantic
!” he said, like he’d discovered I was a doctor in my spare time. “That is
amazing.
I love that!”

“But—” I flailed my arms. “But
why
?”

He grew serious for a moment. “Because Cheddar was right, hon. He’s small-town boy with a very teeny brain. Viv . . . she’s going to be . . . God. Anything. She’s going to cure cancer or run for office or something.”

All of the banter and the joy faded from my morning.

“So, can we eat breakfast or do we have to wait for her?” I asked brightly.

“Wait, what did you mean, ‘What are we?’”

“Nothing—not important.” I slid out of his arms and trotted to the table. The eggs were a combination of runny and burnt, the bacon was
definitely
burnt, and the potatoes were burnt on one side and hard on the other.

Suddenly I didn’t have to worry about keeping my happy face on—I had to worry about keeping my “Looks yummy, hon, can’t wait to eat!” face on.

“Mmm . . .” I said, keeping my lips together and my eyes wide. “Looks—”

“Like crap,” he said baldly. “What just happened here?”

I grimaced. “We learned you can’t cook eggs.”

“No—before that. You said, ‘What are we?’ Let’s start there.”

I selected a slice of bacon that didn’t look too burnt and opened my mouth.

“Don’t eat that!” he snapped, yanking it out of my fingers. “It did
not
look that bad when I put it on the table.”

“No, it’s fine!” I lied, desperate for something—anything—to put this day back where it had been when I’d come down the stairs.

“Connor, put the bacon down,” Noah commanded, and he had his game face on.

Just like that we were back in bed, and I was primed to do what he told me.

I put the bacon down, and then rolled my eyes at myself. “Yes,
sir
.”

“Don’t be a smartass. Let’s go back to ‘What are we?’ What
are
we?”

I’d balanced the bacon on top of the mound of burnt potatoes. As I stared at it, it broke in half and tumbled down to the base of hash-black mountain.

“Are we . . . boyfriends?” I asked. “Is that how you’re going to introduce me to your family?”

“Was going to, yes. Is that a problem?”

I glanced up and met his eyes, smiling wistfully. “No,” I said after a moment. “No.”

Noah nodded slowly. “Then why’d the happy go out of our day, baby? What’s the problem?”

“You’re just like your sister.” My voice wobbled. “You could . . . cure cancer or . . . run for office or something. It was a nice fantasy—that you’d be okay being my driver or PA or whatever—but you’re going to get bored.”

He sighed and moved around the table. Once again we were groin to groin, and this time he framed my face with his hands and kissed me. I responded, because how could I not?