Sugar on the Edge(62)

Gavin stands from the couch in such a swift move that I yelp in surprise. He grabs me by the back of my hair, pulling my face back and kissing me hard. Kisses me with passion and yearning and a zeal to make the most of this very moment we’re sharing.

He carries me to the stairs and up to his second-floor bedroom, his lips never leaving mine. I feel something different. In the way he touches me, in the way that he stares at me. He’s opened himself up to something that he never did before… something he had held himself back from, and I realize what it is in the moment when he lays me on the bed and looks down at me.

He needs me.

Gavin Cooke, a man who swam through darkness and torture, drowned himself in the ecstasy of the next big high and probably fucked his way through half of London so he could forget his demons, rose from the ashes having survived, but having done so while being utterly alone.

Now he’s not. Now he knows that he has one other person in this world who is willing to share the burden of his sadness. And I can see it in his eyes… right this minute, that he is acknowledging that he needs me.

And God help me, I think I need him too, because he’s made me feel and experience things I never thought were possible in my narrowed existence.

Gavin crawls onto the bed, up my body, and lies down on top of me. He kisses me again, this time with more care than he has ever taken with my lips. He moves slowly but deliberately, pressing his mouth into mine, sucking on my bottom lip, giving me a soft bite. His tongue moves against mine. He angles his head to go deeper and possess me more thoroughly.

He kisses and kisses and kisses me, making no other move to touch me other than to stroke my face. I can feel his erection laying thick and long between my legs, yet he doesn’t even move his hips to grind into me. This isn’t about sex right now, although I know that’s coming.

It’s about him showing me how much he cares for not only what I just said to him downstairs, but also for the person I am.

He finally… yes, finally, because I am starting to fill up with a crazy burning for more of him, peels my clothes away, letting his lips travel over every bit of exposed skin. He silently caresses me with his hands, his tongue, and the very breath that rushes out of his mouth. I wriggle and moan, and even beg him to give me more, but he takes his sweet, filthy time with me.

When I’m completely naked, he rolls from the bed, standing briefly to disrobe, his eyes never leaving mine. When he crawls back in and lies back down on top of me, my heart hammers a hungry tune for him. I can feel his warm erection between my legs, pulsing and jerking with need. But he does nothing more than start to kiss me all over again, now whispering the sweetest of words that I’ve ever heard come out of his dirty mouth.

Sweet… your skin is so soft. I could kiss and lick at it for days on end.

Your nipples… so perfect. Your breasts, your stomach, your hips. All so fucking perfect.

Touching you is the best part of my every day.

We could live to the end of time, and even when the sun would finally die out, I’d still never have enough of you.

Oh, Gavin… my poet.

When he finally rises up just a bit, he looks down at me. He is suspended on one hand while, with the other, he takes himself in hand and guides it into me. He slides in easily, because I’m so ready for him, and when he’s seated to the hilt within my body, his eyes flutter closed and he sighs.

When he opens them again, he leans down and kisses me gently. After he pulls back from my mouth but before he gives the first move of his hips, he whispers, “Thank you.”

And in that moment, I’m pretty sure my heart has been enslaved.





“Geez, love… how long exactly does it take for you to get ready? It’s just some drinks with your friends,” I say in exasperation as I lean against the doorjamb of my bathroom. Savannah has been diligently working on herself for the past half hour. I’ve watched as she put cream on her face and eyes, some type of frothy stuff in her hair. She then put on makeup—seemed like a million different things went on her face—yet when she was done, she didn’t look made up at all. Except for her eyes… her lashes were so long and thick that her eyes practically glowed at me. Then she dried her hair… then she took some type of wand looking thing and ran it through, causing the slight bit of wave that it naturally bore to straighten out and flip at different angles.

Finally… yes, finally, she slathered gloss on her lips, puckered said lips in the mirror, and all I could think about was getting those slick, wet lips around my cock. I had to turn my back on her and walk out the bathroom before I fucked her right then and there.