Geoff
Robin took us to dinner at an amazing Italian restaurant near the marina in Saugatuck. It had a club attached, so we went over, despite the fact that we hadn’t intended to go clubbing. It was a mixed club, not like the one at the Dunes. There were plenty of straight people there, but also enough same-sex couples that we weren’t out of place.
I was glad for the distraction, because after our conversation had gotten so heavy, I wasn’t sure I could find the transition back to the effortless sexual chemistry Robin and I had been enjoying. I was more than ready to take Robin to the resort and let him fuck my brains out, but something had shifted between us. A connection had been made, which put the sexy hookup vibe on strange, unsteady ground. Maybe hanging out and partying for a while would help us get back into the flow.
Robin was in favor of the idea and helpfully pointed out that if we wanted to leave before Jace was ready, Jace had his car still parked there in town. Robin and I could go to the boat or take Robin’s car to the Dunes.
Once we got on the dance floor, it became apparent that if I was having trouble slipping back into the sexy groove, he certainly wasn’t. Robin just wanted to torment me some more. Make me absolutely desperate for him. Which, hello? It was already way too late for that.
The feeling of his body moving against mine—knowing that this time I really was going to go for it, no indecision, no angst—was incredible. Prolonged foreplay. Nerves strung taut and vibrating with anticipation. Hands grasping, hips brushing with deliberate intent to tease. Sweat and the lingering, sweet coconut scent of sunblock. Ice-blue eyes fixed on mine, searching for something.
A low growl next to my ear. “Tell me how you want it.”
I managed a weak laugh. “As soon as possible, that’s how.”
“That’s not what I meant.” He spun me abruptly, pressing his chest to my back and grinding against my ass like he had the first time we danced, without ever missing a beat. “Still want it hard and brutal?”
“Yes.” I hissed as his hand slid across my abdomen, lightly teasing above my groin. “That’s how I want it.”
“Good. Because I want to throw you down and pound you so hard you pass out.”
It was just dirty talk, right? He knew he couldn’t be careless. The nervous voice inside me, the voice that always reminded me to be cautious, to avoid any risk of injury, tried to pipe up. I squelched it without mercy. I was playing with fire and I didn’t fucking care.
“Yes,” I said again, letting my head fall forward, offering him the back of my neck. He nibbled without biting. Perfect.
“Stop it,” he breathed against my ear.
“Stop what?”
“Stop second-guessing if you’re safe with me. You are. I won’t forget the boundaries. Let that shit go. It’s my worry now.”
“I’m trying.”
“Good. Ready to get out of here?”
I paused before answering, because his hands and lips and teeth felt too amazing to interrupt. “Yeah. Just . . . let me find Jace, tell him we’re going.”
“I’ll get the car, meet you outside.”
I searched the crowded dance floor for Jace and finally spotted him, then pulled him aside with an apologetic look at his partner.
“I’m taking Robin back to the Dunes.”
He smirked at me. “You know, his boat’s closer.”
“Yeah, but my factor’s back at the resort if I end up needing it tonight.”
“Ah, right.” Jace nodded slowly. “Okay.”
“Look, he knows, but I just . . .” I grimaced, hating that voice of caution that wouldn’t let me leave without making sure of this. “Whatever you do tonight, bring it back to the cottage, would you?”
I couldn’t bring myself to add “just in case.” That seemed like a concession. Jace got the implication, though.
We barely made it into my room before Robin was all over me, shoving me toward the bed.
“Careful,” I gasped between kisses, stumbling as I tried to kick off my shoes. The hated word had escaped me unintentionally, and I cursed myself for it, but for a moment it had seemed like he might toss me onto the damn thing.
“Stop. Worrying,” he growled again, emerging from the folds of the shirt he’d been peeling over his head. “We’re just fucking for now. If you say stop or slow down, I’ll do it.”
Fuck. I hated that thought. I didn’t want to be able to stop him. I wanted to do shit that would require a safeword.
“I’ll try.” I took the last few steps to the bed on my own, shucking my jeans and crawling onto it before I tossed my shirt aside.
He stared at me. Whatever he saw must have satisfied him, because his lips came down to meet mine again. His weight felt good on me, trapping me, pinning me down. We were both tacky with sunblock residue, gritty with sand. A shower should have been in order, but his tongue was in my mouth and the stretchy cotton covering his erection was rubbing against mine. Who the fuck cared about anything else?
This kiss wasn’t frantic like all the ones before. It was slow, searching, as though he was feeling his way along cautiously. That wasn’t okay. I pressed up against him harder, ground my mouth against his more firmly, and Yes, there! That was it. Perfect. His cock rocked against mine. His mouth twisted. The pull of his lips and thrusts of his tongue became demanding, and fuck, that was exactly what I needed. I tried to draw him closer, but he caught my wrists and wouldn’t let me grab him.
I wanted to struggle against that grip. I wanted to make him force me down and take what he wanted, but I couldn’t escalate it to that point. Not after we’d agreed that we’d just be fucking.
I lay pliant beneath him as he tongue-fucked my mouth. He jammed his hips between my thighs, humping against me until I was right there on the fucking edge. Then he backed off, leaning over to jerk open the drawer of the bedside table. My lube was in there from the other night, but not the condoms.
“On the dresser,” I panted, so dazed and kiss-drunk I didn’t think I could move. “In my shaving kit.”
He practically launched himself off me to get to it, spilling razors and pill bottles to find the small package of condoms I carried in the largely vain hope of getting laid. He paused, staring at the mound of prescription bottles, then looked at me with a frown.
“These are some heavy-hitting painkillers. I didn’t even know you could get Demerol outside a hospital.”
Fuck.
“Joint bleeds can hurt pretty bad.” I reached for him, rubbing my other hand over the bulge in my underwear before pushing them down my hips and shimmying out of them. “Come on.”
He set the pill bottles aside and grabbed the condoms.
“Just to make sure: have you taken any today?” he asked as he strode back to the bed, losing his briefs along the way.
I shook my head and scooted back on the mattress. Then my leg was hanging over his arm and one of his slick hands was fisting my dick while the other worked lube into my ass. I was torn between the impulse to tell him to hurry because I didn’t fucking care if it hurt—I wanted it to hurt—and the nagging voice of reality sawing at the back of my brain, reminding me what a bitch it would be if I tore.
I realized he probably had figured that out too. Hence the caution. Which, in some absurd, contradictory way that didn’t even make sense in my head, was both a relief and an irritant. A relief, because it meant he really was being attentive to my safety. And an irritant because that nagging little voice insisted he was going to treat me differently, like I was made of spun glass. Fuck that sh—
His fingertips hooked up and found my prostate. Well, okay then. There were at least some advantages to taking our time. I groaned and closed my eyes. He added another finger, fucking me harder with them. Edging that boundary without crossing it.
Oh God, yes.
“You want it?” His hand curled around the head of my cock, rolling the foreskin forward, then back down. I whimpered, my hips coming up off the bed, using my knee draped over his arm for leverage. It tightened me around his fingers.
“Fuck. Yeah.” My higher brain functions had shorted out. I’d gone Neanderthal, monosyllabic, nothing but a tense ball of wanting humping the air in front of him as he wrung another drizzle of pre-cum from my dick.
He drew his fingers out of me, and his cock replaced them, wedging against my hole without pushing inside, applying only enough pressure to threaten penetration without actually doing it.
“Beg me for it.”
“Wha—” My eyes opened, and I stared up at him, confused and panting. His hand pumped my dick without relenting.
He wanted me to talk?
Lube and all, his other hand fisted in my hair, jerking my head back, craning my neck hard while he glared down at me. “You’re the one who likes words. So beg me for it, bitch.”
Suddenly I was on my knees in those woods again, gobbling his cock while he rained filthy, vile words on me, offering verbal violence to substitute for the physical roughness I craved.
“Please!” I arched my spine, dislodging the head of his cock with my squirming. He pushed me back down and repositioned himself, putting more of his body over mine to keep me in place. Even in such dire need, I still couldn’t manage more than fragmented, gasping syllables. “God. Fuck! Pluh—please! Fuck! Please!”
If he was expecting an eloquent monologue, he was going to have to deal with disappointment. Apparently what I managed was good enough, because in the next breath he was shoving into me, hard and fast. Harder and faster than any partner who knew about my hemophilia had ever penetrated me. He’d taken his hand off my dick to brace it on the pillow next to my head, which was probably a good thing. I was way too close to popping already, and I hadn’t even had a chance to enjoy this yet.
He ground his mouth against mine, drinking in my half-pained groans while I adapted. Then he reared back and began to stroke. Steadily at first, building up a rhythm, drawing soft moans from me with consummate skill. And then more forcefully as the outer layer of his restraint began to crumble. That’s when it went from good to fan-fucking-tastic. Not brutal, but not gentle either. He didn’t try to hold back. Even better, he didn’t seem to think he had to hold back, because he had taken the time to make sure he knew what he was doing. And Christ, he felt amazing in my ass. Each jolt of his hips jerked a sharp moan from my throat. Each press of his cock past my prostate made my balls draw up and my dick go even more rigid against my stomach, spreading a steady pool of fluid. Throwing his head back, Robin gasped and grunted, cursing between his teeth as he shuddered and drove deep one last time, twitching inside me and out.
I whimpered at the loss of stimulation, reaching for my cock, intending to give myself that last bit of sensation to make it over the top, but Robin caught my hand.
“Wait.”
Kissing me, he carefully lowered my legs and pulled out, then made his way down my body. He lapped up the puddle of pre-cum on my abdomen before moving lower to suck me all the way down his throat.
“Oh fuck.” I arched, thrusting until his hands pushed my hips back into the mattress. He didn’t make me wait long, though, driving me headlong toward orgasm with beautifully skilled lips and tongue. I drilled the heels of my hands against my eyes until I saw sparkles, straining with the need to come, barking sharp cries until everything flashed white behind my eyelids, like a magnesium flare. It almost hurt, the force with which the orgasm ripped through me, starting in my nuts and racing up my dick and spine simultaneously. I pumped down his throat in one agonizingly good burst after another.
Afterward we sprawled in a messy tangle on the bed, slick with sweat that made the sheets damp and cooled rapidly in the air-conditioned room. I needed a shower in the worst fucking way, but my muscles didn’t seem to want to work. I was sure my brain had melted and might even be dribbling out my ears.
“You said you’re here for a few more days?” His blunt fingers traced idle patterns on my chest.
“Jace booked us for the whole week.”
“Good.” He shot me a toothy grin. “I would really like to do this again before you go.”
“Well, I don’t have any plans. Just lots of hanging around. Maybe checking out the galleries with Jace.”
“Excellent.” His pleased expression was enough to make me consider how soon I’d be ready for another round tonight. “That reminds me. Make sure I have Jace’s contact information before he leaves. I’d like to see his work.”
“I’ll do that.” Now we were getting to that awkward stage where we tried to figure out if this was an overnighter or if it was time for the other guy to leave. I hadn’t had enough one-night stands to have that part worked out yet. That first night when I almost brought him back from the club, it wouldn’t have been an issue, but this had evolved into something more than a simple hookup.
I was enjoying his company for its own sake.
I scratched my chest as I tried to figure out what to say next, grimacing at the tacky feel of my own skin. “I really need a shower.”
“Want me to clear out so you can do that?” He propped himself up on an elbow. “I have an early meeting with my realtor tomorrow, and I didn’t bring anything for overnight, so I’ll need to go back to my boat at some point.” He dragged his nails lightly up my thigh. “Which is not to say I wouldn’t be more than happy to hang out for at least a while longer.”
Inspiration struck and I smiled. “You know, we share a Jacuzzi with the cottage next door. I could see if it’s unoccupied.”
His grin mirrored mine, and my dick made it known that it would definitely be interested in another round in the not-so-distant future.
“I’m in.”