"Need you,” I finally whispered when the waiting became too much to bear. “Need something...” I wasn't even sure what I was asking him for. What he'd done with the linebacker? Maybe. The thought of him entering my body frightened me a little ... more than a little.
The fear must have showed in my eyes. Dimi smiled, then kissed me until I moaned into his mouth, my tongue curling around his, my fingers tightening around his biceps. He began to rock his hips, sliding his cock against mine.
Yes! This was what I needed, what I wanted. My Dimi. Mine.
"Come for me,” he groaned against my lips, nipping and teasing them with his teeth and tongue. He slipped one hand between us, wrapping his fingers around our cocks, squeezing them together.
Trapped between Dimi's hand and his cock, I thought I might lose my mind as my balls swelled, tightening. Crying out, I came hard, every muscle in my body clenching tight. My eyes screwed shut against the incredible pleasure that rocketed through me as Dimi continued to stroke us together, until he'd coaxed the very last drop out of me.
When at last I opened my eyes, Dimi was smiling softly at me, looking at me from under his thick lashes. He hadn't come, was still hard and dripping against my softening cock. Biting my lip, I reached between our bellies and took him in my hand.
I'd never touched another man's cock before. It felt like mine, but hotter, harder, soft velvet and solid iron. I sucked my breath in between my teeth as his heat scorched my palm.
I knew what to do. Touched him the way I liked to be touched, long slow strokes, fingers squeezing and pulsing along his shaft. Thumb circling the head of his cock, teasing at the slit, spreading his precum.
Then faster, matching every breath he took until he shuddered, gritting his teeth, and I felt liquid heat dapple my belly.
When he opened his eyes again, they were soft with all of the same emotions I was feeling. “Dimi,” I whispered, “I love you."
I know,” he said, smiling. “I've always known. It just took you a while to come around."
Yeah, I guess it did, at that.
We drifted off to sleep then, he and I, wrapped in each other's arms, and it was the most peaceful sleep I can ever remember enjoying.
The following morning, there was a gift waiting for me on the kitchen table. Dimi had already left for work after kissing me and making me promise to be there when he returned.
I stared at the gift for a while, wondering what he'd bought and when he'd had the time to buy it. He hadn't known I was coming; couldn't have guessed that that we would share what we had the night before.
Carefully I opened it, slowly peeling away the paper from the box. Lifting the lid, I peered inside, and nearly broke down into sobs when I read the note Dimi had left on top.
"This has been waiting for you for a long, long time. I love you, and I always have. Ever since the first day we met. Even before I knew what love was, then later, when my mind wouldn't accept it, my heart always knew. Forever yours, Dimi."
Nestled inside the box amid a fluff of white tissue paper, was a bright red metal Transformers lunch box.
* * * *
Finally! Dimi's car is pulling up to the curb and he hops out, an apology for making me wait for so long in the rain on his lips.
I don't need an apology. I need his arms around me, his lips on mine, and I pull him into my arms and kiss him with a passion that's been building all afternoon. Mine. He's mine now and forever.
Suddenly the house behind me ceases to be important. Every pain I'd felt, every regret I've ever had melts away into nothingness, replaced by the love I can feel in his arms, hear in his voice, taste on his lips.
I've finally come home, and no bank, no one, nothing can ever take that away from me. Not now. I've waited for Dimi long enough.
[Back to Table of Contents]
About the Author
Kiernan Kelly lives in the wilds of the alligator-infested U.S. Southeast, slathered in SPF 45, drinking colorful tropical, hi-octane concoctions served by thong-clad cabana boys.
The truth is that she spends her time locked in the dark recesses of her office, writing gay erotic romance while chained to a temperamental Macintosh, drinking coffee, and dreaming of thong-clad cabana boys.
To date, Kiernan has seven novels in print, a plethora of short stories in e-format ... and still no cabana boy of her own, although her husband may beg to differ.
www.KiernanKelly.com kiernankelly.livejournal.com
[email protected]
* * *
Visit www.renebooks.com for information on additional titles by this and other authors.
The Sweet Side Of The Ropes: Enthralling Tales Of Male-Male Romance Page 10