Using a single finger to stretch him out with my tongue before I have to sit back again and use only fingers when I add the second.
I keep adding lube, unwilling to let him experience even a second of discomfort if I can help it.
When my other hand is free of the lube and I start pushing the third finger in, I use it to squeeze his ass cheek, to pet it a little.
“Chase, that’s enough,” he snaps, with a forceful impatience that has me grinning like a Cheshire cat.
“All right.”
My voice betrays my eagerness, but see if I care.
My dick hurts and I have the most gorgeous and smart man begging me to take him to bed—I’ve got no complaints.
I spend a full minute drying him off, and all of five seconds on myself before I’m throwing the wet towel against the drying rack and letting Noah drag me to my huge bed.
“On your back,” he says, taking command, and I don’t mind even a little, but I do take a moment to grab another bottle of lube and a condom from my nightstand drawer.
I sit with my back against the padded headboard, and he climbs onto my lap and attacks my mouth in the same breath.
I let him set the pace—a quick one—and hold on to his hips for dear life as his tongue traces rapid patterns against my own. Then he leans back and gives me a chance to catch mybreath as he tears open the condom and slides it down my dick.
The contact is almost too much.
It brings that perfect, almost painful pleasure that I always chase whenever I’m jerking off, but it’s infinitely better when it’s someone else’s hands touching me, and with Noah, it has stars exploding behind my eyelids.
“Fuck,” I hiss, knowing I need to get a hold of myself, because I’m not coming before Noah.
I’m going to make damn sure he has the time of his fucking life riding me, even if it kills me.
It’d be a great way to go.
His movements turn jerky with impatience as he pours lube on the tip of my dick and spreads it down before rising up on his knees and lining himself up.
He sinks down until my tip pushes into him, then he stops.
Probably to give himself time to adjust, but the sudden pressure and heat has me clutching the sheets beside my hips in a vise grip that turns my knuckles white.
“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re perfect.”
His face goes lax, suddenly no longer focused on the stretch, and a tiny—adorable—pleased smile lifts the tips of his bruised lips.
“I want you so much,” he whispers. “I want to go faster, but?—”
“No, no.” I manage to loosen my grip on one hand to reach up and pat his hip reassuringly, which is as much as I’m capable of at the moment. “Take your time. I want you too,Noah. Desperately. But if you go any faster, I’m gonna come before I’m ready, before I’ve taken care of you, sweetheart.”
“You don’t have to,” he mumbles, looking down and away.
“I’m pretty sure I’m always going to want to take care of you,” I tell him and give a stiff shrug, as if to say, “What can you do?”
“That sounds nice.”
I can barely hear the confession, probably would’ve missed it if I wasn’t staring so intently at his lips.
“You’re fucking perfect, Noah Ellington. So pretty, so smart and strong.”
“God, Chase, you can’tjust saythings like that,” he protests and pulls a chuckle out of me.
“Try and stop me,” I dare him.