Ash led Sawyer into his bedroom, each step loaded with expectation. The room was a wash of dim light and soft grays, the storm still battering the roof with its power. Energy snapped through the air, buzzed over his skin, vibrated through him.
He went to the floor-to-ceiling windows that ran the length of his bedroom suite. The rain distorted the view, sheets of gusting wet sweeping over and into the trees. The violent display of nature seemed appropriate and only fed the moment.
Sawyer was right behind him, his heat wrapping around him to leave him scorched but wanting more. Almost desperate to be touched, held—taken, when everyone assumed he only took.
“This is a switch,” Sawyer murmured, nipping Ash’s earlobe to make his point.
Ash winced, not from the sting but the closeness. Of being crowded when he was usually the one doing the invading. It was different and odd and…good. Sawyer slipped his hands around Ash’s waist, caressing his front as he leaned into him. Skin and warmth and so much more than he’d ever given.
Ever trusted enough to give, and that included with his ex-wife.
“How does it feel?” Sawyer asked, teeth scraping down his neck. Ash tipped his head and gave him room. “To be the one getting pushed?”
“You’re not pushing.” He angled his chin higher, reached back to yank Sawyer closer. “You’re giving.”
“Fucker,” he chuckled against Ash’s shoulder, the vibration carrying to his nipple. He snaked a hand into Ash’s briefs, his grip hard. Ash mumbled a curse, the rush of pleasure sinking through his groin. “I’m going to give you so damn much you’ll think of me for days.” He ground his erection into Ash’s crease, his hole clenching at each roll and hitch.
“I’m counting on it.” He wouldn’t need the physical reminder, though. He’d been thinking of Sawyer every day since they’d met.
Sawyer shoved his jeans and briefs down, the material catching on his thighs. “Get naked,” he said, stepping back. “Which drawer?” He motioned to the nightstands.
“On the left.” The farthest from the door and least likely to be invaded by anyone but Asher himself.
He’d showered before dinner to get rid of the lingering stench of menthol, and damn was he happy about that. He kicked the last of his clothes to the side and took a step toward the bed.
“No,” Sawyer said, coming to him. “Stay there.”
He’d discarded his shorts, and his dick jutted hard and red from his groin. A hand to Ash’s chest maneuvered him back until he ran into the cool pane of glass. He arched away, hissing, but Sawyer was right there, wedging a leg between his and taking his mouth in another powerful kiss.
Ash dove into the crazed plundering, both pushing back and falling into the wild. His dick ached with want, heart pounded with fever, and he jumped into the recklessness with clear intent. This was simply sex for sex. The joy of feeling while giving and receiving pleasure.
Of being fucked and loving every second of it.
He ground into Sawyer, scrambled to get closer, hold tighter, and still breathe. Once again Sawyer’s strength enthralled him, the near lack of control a layer of danger that taunted and enticed.
Sawyer broke away, chest heaving. “Fuck.” He dove at Ash’s neck, mouth working over his throat, hands roaming up his sides, over his ass, seemingly everywhere at once. “You’re driving me insane.”
Ash groaned his agreement. The admission could’ve been limited to the crazy fire burning from his groin to his brain, but it was more than that for him. He wanted to figure Sawyer out, help him, and know him as no other did.
And this was only a part of it. The raw intimacy. The pure pleasure for the sake of that alone.
Sawyer bit down on Ash’s nipple, the stab of shock racing over his chest and straight to his dick. He bowed into the pleasure, soaking it in to mitigate the ache. He drove his fingers into Sawyer’s hair, knotting around the strands to exert his own control. He yanked Sawyer up, took his mouth with the power coursing through him.
Rain beat at the window, pounded on the roof, and embraced them in its cocoon. Nothing could get them here. Nothing else mattered.
He warred for access into Sawyer’s mouth, the tang of beer and want urging him to hunt further. His control was gone, his analysis obliterated beneath the base need. Of being filled and letting go.
Sawyer jerked away and whipped him around, the surprise giving Sawyer the advantage. Ash got his hands up, palms smacking into the window. Sawyer was on his back in the next instant, his heat countering the iciness of the glass. Then there was nothing but the hard line of Sawyer’s erection riding his crease.
“Yes,” he whispered, the sound lost to the roar in his ears. The storm raging within him beat out nature’s. He pushed his hips back, forehead dropping to the glass for more leverage. “Fuck me already.” Fill me up and demand that I know who you are. Like he had a chance of forgetting.
“Who’s impatient now?”
“I am, you fucker.” He ground back, wincing as his ass clenched, need leaking out the tip of his dick. His balls were full and aching, skin stretched tight until every touch reverberated to his core.
“You.” Sawyer stroked his hole, slick teasing his entry. “Want this.” He shoved a finger in, the penetration singing through his nerves. A wiggle, thrust, withdrawal. “So.” Another deep thrust. “Damn badly.” Out. Two fingers in, stretching the ache.
He ground his forehead into the glass, breath fogging the pane with each gust. “Yes,” he freely admitted. “Call me a slut and you’re dead,” he managed to add.
Sawyer’s chuckle tickled his nape. “There’s only room for one slut, and I already own that title.”
Sawyer was gone then, cool air swooping in to chill the sweat on Ash’s back. His legs shook, fingers curling into the glass. His hole flexed, seeking the fullness that was now gone.
He sensed Sawyer behind him, his presence wrapping around him like a thousand pinpricks. He forced his breaths to slow, anticipation thrumming over his skin. He jerked at the palm on his back, shuddered as it stroked up his spine, down.
Sawyer forced his feet farther apart, dick teasing his entrance. A puff of breath on his shoulder. A whisper of teeth. “I can’t go slow,” he warned, nudging in.
The head breached the tight outer ring of muscle, the stretch buzzing through his balls to clench his abdomen, sweet promise lined with pain that would fade. He scrambled for a hold on the glass, palms slipping before he braced himself and pushed back. The slow descent of Sawyer’s cock filled him as nothing else ever had.
He shook his head, wonder overriding everything else. Full, stunned, wanting more. He arched his neck, back bowed in an attempt to take more when there was nothing left. Sawyer ground into his ass, pubic hair tickling his cheeks, hands clenching his hips.
“Now,” he groaned, eyes squeezed tight. “Fuck me. Hard.”
Sawyer’s growl overpowered the rain, rattled over him and unleashed the passion that’d been barely contained. His first few slides quickly accelerated into hard slams, each one jerking him forward.
Yes. Ash’s cry of agreement was lost in his scramble for air. For a handhold and the presence of mind to shove back, to meet Sawyer at every thrust, every hard plunge that jarred him forward. The glass squeaked beneath his fingers, rain clawing at him as darkness crept closer.
Sawyer shifted, his angle changing until each thrust grazed over that spot within him, sparks bursting free to light him up from the inside. Pleasure built to a punishing ball of need and crazed desire. His dick swung with every impact, pressure throbbing from his balls to encompass his entire groin.
“Damn,” he breathed, arms burning from his press on the window. Any give would have his face driving into the hard glass, his legs folding before they finished. “I need…” To feel. Have. Come.
Sawyer had him, though, a hand gripping his dick before he could finish his sentence. The firm hold and timed strokes flew past his final resistance. He came with a guttural roar choked off by the continued pounding in his ass.
He was on overload, synapses frying and misfiring the longer his release raged on. Sawyer didn’t let up or relent, his pace as furious as the storm outside. Ash wanted to protest, beg for mercy, but words wouldn’t flow.
He collapsed onto the glass, the coolness a relief that aided his crash. Behind him Sawyer staggered, his hold tightening on Ash’s hips. Then he was shaking, grinding into Ash with a strangled cry.
Silence hit with a rush of gasping breaths and his pounding heart. Sawyer sagged against him, each rushed exhale heating his spine. Fucking…He couldn’t think past the need to breathe and stay standing.
Sawyer slid his palms up Ash’s sides, over his chest, down, back, the nonstop connection soothing and confirming in the unconscious link it was.
Barriers had been crossed, maybe obliterated, and Ash had no clue how to proceed. He had no plan for what came next. No data to base his actions on. But he didn’t want to go back. Didn’t want to let go.
Was there a chance Sawyer would let him hold on?