“I won’t push you,” Tristian promised.
Dylan nodded and leaned in to press the down arrow again for the third time. The move drew him closer to Tristan who didn’t step away. It could have been his imagination, but he swore Tristan bent over and sniffed him when he reached for the button. The awareness had his heart racing even faster. He wasn’t sure how to react, so he kept his eyes downcast, finding the dark pattern on the highly polished marble very interesting. He couldn’t help the small smile spreading on his lips.
“You smell incredible,” Tristan finally said. Dylan stayed quiet, but lifted his eyes to meet Tristan’s. They held the gaze until the elevator doors opened. Tristan took his arm and drew him into the empty elevator before he could change his mind.
“I’m glad you decided to come, because I really do want to kiss you,” Tristan chuckled, releasing his arm. Tristan stepped to the back and he followed. Could he really do it? He turned his body toward Tristan and lifted his face. No words were spoken. Tristan understood his silence and took Dylan’s face between his palms and slowly leaned in for the softest, briefest of kisses. Dylan kept his eyes half open, allowing himself to just be in the moment. His breathing picked up as Tristan’s firm lips moved against his. He wanted to deepen the kiss, but Tristan stepped away before the doors opened to the lobby of the hotel.
“You ready, handsome?” Tristan asked, extending a hand, his eyes still focused on Dylan’s lips.
Dylan was lost in a haze. He hadn’t even known how long he’d stood there before Tristan spoke. He finally turned to the open doors, and with all the emotion rolling through him, he’d assumed every eye in the place would be on him, but no one looked their way.
“I’m parked right out front,” Tristan announced, walking stride for stride with Dylan. “The driver can bring you back when you’re ready to leave.”
“Is he on call all the time?” Dylan asked, going through the front doors. Tristan moved him toward the town car that sat to the right. This time the driver sat inside the car while Tristan got the door for Dylan.
“Pretty much. There are four of them on call twenty-four-seven. I don’t drink and drive, so I need rides,” Tristan responded, sliding in right next to Dylan. It took a second for him to slide across the backseat. He’d expected Tristan to round the trunk and enter from the other side.
Tristan rewarded him with a deep moan and a “not too far over.” He placed a hand on his arm, stopping him in the middle of the seat. “We’re headed to my place,” Tristan told the driver before closing the partition between the front and backseat. The glass wasn’t completely raised before Tristan placed an arm around his shoulders and descended on him. This wasn’t the sweet soft kiss from before. Tristan ate at his mouth, his teeth nipping and sliding across his lips, his tongue pressing and probing.
Dylan opened under Tristan’s insistence. How long had it been since he kissed anyone with passion? Longer than he could even remember. That thought made him insecure, but Tristan seemed immune to his inner turmoil. Finally he pushed the thoughts from his head and just let himself feel. He gave in to his desire and for the first time in his life, he allowed himself to be swept away by his true needs. Tristan increased the tempo he’d created, turning Dylan’s head to delve deeper. Tristan was a pro. Something straight out of a romance novel. Tristan caressed him the whole time, slowly removing his suit jacket and partially unbuttoning his shirt. Dylan concentrated on the kiss until Tristan’s palm touched his chest, now only covered in the thin white shirt he’d worn under his button-down. That sensation along with the unrelenting fantastic tongue had him wrenching free, his hand moving to hold Tristan’s there against his chest and nipple.
“Damn, you’re good at this,” Dylan whispered, his hips arched up automatically, seeking Tristan’s touch. They weren’t exactly lying across the seat, but Dylan was askew with Tristan almost on top of him.
“I haven’t even started,” Tristan replied. He latched a finger on to Dylan’s, keeping their hands together as he slid both of their palms lower. Tristan didn’t have to do anything more than graze Dylan’s dick through his slacks and his eyes rolled back into his head and his hips pitched forward as a deep moan escaped his lips.
“Fuck, you’re gonna be hot tonight,” Tristan growled and gripped him, palming him outside his slacks. Dylan pushed at Tristan’s hands.
“I’ll come,” he panted.
“Oh, I plan on it,” Tristan chuckled and gripped him a little tighter.
“No, right now. I’ll come right now.” Dylan panicked and shoved Tristan’s hand off him, scooting away. Not that there was a lot of room, they were already stretched across the backseat. He slid to the other side of the car. Tristan followed right behind him. Dylan extended a hand, pushing him back. “It’s been too long. Stay over there.”
That had Tristan giving him a little bit of a break. He didn’t back away. He moved in for another kiss, keeping the contact soft. “I’m so gonna enjoy this tonight.”
“And I’m afraid I’ll embarrass myself,” he said between the small kisses.
“Not possible. We’ll take things slow, I promise,” Tristan whispered and caressed the side of his face. “We’re here.”
Dylan looked out the window. The car had come to a stop in front of an over-the-top mansion. His look of shock had Tristan smiling again. “Good. I’m glad you like it. You’ve kept me shocked and surprised all night long. Turnabout’s fair play. Come on, handsome.”
Tristan took the front steps up to the house. He held Dylan’s hand the entire way. Not for the intimacy of the act, but to keep him right there beside him. Dylan was definitely on the edge of flight mode. He shouldn’t have pushed him. He actually shouldn’t have gone up the elevator when Dylan took so long, but something about helping this guy discover himself seemed to turn his shit on like nothing else ever had before.
Tristan punched in the security code for the house. The locks were tied into the security system and the front door opened. “After you.”
Dylan entered first, looking around the room. Tristan turned on lamps as he walked through the house. When he reached the kitchen, he opened the back of the house and flipped the switch, letting the lights flood the back deck.
“Oh my god,” Dylan said from the living room. “Is that the ocean?”
“It is. You can see better during the day. I have a swimming pool out there if you want to take a dip. Hang on, I’ll be right back,” Tristan called, going back to his bedroom. He tossed his suit jacket over the rack in his closet and dug out an old pair of jeans and T-shirt. He changed quickly before going into the bathroom and brushing his teeth and running a comb through his sandy blond hair.
He’d not been this excited about a night in a long time, and it surprised him. Taking a closeted gay man’s virginity had never been on his bucket list, but he also hadn’t ever met anyone like Dylan Reeves. He was gorgeous, no question there, and from the brief grope he got, he knew the man was packing, but he also seemed like an honest-to-goodness good guy. Maybe even one of those salt-of-the-earth types, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d come across someone as intriguing.
On a whim, he stopped by his nightstand, flipping on that light as he grabbed a couple of condoms and a pack of lube from the drawer. This might turn into a deck-side experience. Who knew for sure? Tristan went through the back of his bedroom, laid the condoms on a deck table as he approached Dylan who stood along the deck railing, looking out over the ocean. Tristan did that very same thing all the time. It was the key reason he’d bought this place in the first place.
“Would you like something to drink?” Tristan asked, walking toward him. He saw Dylan had left those few buttons undone on his dress shirt, and now his long sleeves were rolled up almost to the elbow, revealing strong, sexy forearms.
“I’m fine. I’ve drunk too much tonight already,” Dylan said, and Tristan remembered the too much drinking in college story. He strolled over to the rail, and instead of lookin
g out at the ocean, he leaned on the metal bar and watched Dylan.
“You’re incredibly handsome. You’ve never been with a man before?”
“Not sex,” Dylan supplied honestly.
“I’m honored you want me to be your first,” Tristan said, his voice deep with the reality of how true those words really were.
“You don’t have to say things like that,” Dylan started, but Tristan stopped him, making his move. He pulled Dylan between his parted legs and gathered him in his arms.
“You’ll learn soon enough that I always speak the truth. Sometimes you’ll like me for it, sometimes you won’t,” Tristan admitted, unbuttoning another three buttons of Dylan’s shirt before he pulled at the ends tucked tightly in his slacks. “I felt an amazingly hard body under your clothes when we danced. I’d like to see for myself.”
Dylan released the remaining buttons, and Tristan was able to smooth his palms up Dylan’s chest, across his shoulders, and help slide the dress shirt down his arms until the material fell to the floor. A smile touched his lips as he looked over this very surprising man.
“Nice, but this has got to go.” Tristan plucked at the white undershirt that clung suggestively to Dylan’s body. “Lift your arms.” He gathered the thin cloth in his fists, lifted it over Dylan’s head, then dropped it on the ground next to the dress shirt.
“That’s more like it,” Tristan said as he slid his palms appreciatively up Dylan’s slim waist, lightly skimming over his ribs, before stopping on the man’s firm pectoral muscles. “Do you swim?”
“I run,” Dylan said, looking down at Tristan’s hands on his chest. Tristan could feel Dylan’s dick swelling against his with each movement he made.
“And lift a little?” Tristan urged Dylan’s hips forward until they were nestled tightly together. Tristan was already hard. Had been since they’d slow-danced earlier in the evening. He wanted Dylan to feel exactly how badly he wanted him.
“Not as much as you,” Dylan said, running a palm across Tristan’s bicep. Goose bumps sprang up on his arm, and Dylan must have felt them, because he immediately stopped. “Are you cold?”
“No, not at all,” Tristan said with a laugh. “I’m turned the fuck on, but not cold.” That had Dylan’s eyes locked on his. Surprisingly Dylan lifted his hands, tangling his fingers in the sides of Tristan’s hair, and initiated a kiss. Tristan opened for him, wrapping his arms tighter around Dylan, bringing him closer against his chest.
There were no awkward moments, no testing the waters, almost as if they’d done this before. Dylan slid his tongue in perfect rhythm with Tristan as he slowly began to fuck his mouth. Any concern he had that Dylan might not be as into this vanished. Tristan ran his hands up and down Dylan’s back then grabbed each ass cheek and ground forward, matching the kiss with the movement from his hips. Dylan’s mouth went slack as he threw his head back and moaned. Tristan latched on to his neck, working his way to his ear.
“I can’t wait to make you come. How many times can I make you come in a night?” Tristan breathed against Dylan’s ear. Dylan trembled in his arms as he spoke the words. “One…two…?”
“More,” he said so quietly Tristan almost hadn’t heard him. He began unbuckling and unbuttoning Dylan’s pants as he kissed a trail down his chest. He took care with each nipple as Dylan’s hands cupped the back of his head and pushed him lower.
It didn’t take much to get Dylan’s slacks to drop to the deck. Tristan smiled at the standard Fruit of the Loom tighty-whities he wore. Evidently Dylan was a briefs guy. “Change places with me.” Tristan bent over and pulled off Dylan’s loafers, then helped him out of his slacks before pressing Dylan against the rail.
“You say when you’ve had enough.” Tristan looked up at Dylan as he slid his hand along the waistband and slowly started to lower Dylan’s tented briefs. Tristan dropped to his knees in front of Dylan and mouthed that wet spot on those tighty-whities before slowly pulling them down and out of his way. When that perfect cock sprang free, Tristan abandoned the task and immediately reached for the jutting length.
“You’re a big boy, Mr. Reeves.” Tristan grinned and gave a long slow tug on the cock in his hand, sliding from tip to base and back again. Tristan slid his thumb around the slit, briefly dipping his nail into the small opening. Dylan squirmed and hissed a needy breath, his eyes glazed over as he gripped the rail behind him.
Tristan licked his lips and reached for Dylan’s sac; he tugged and pressed, rolling the soft tender skin in his palm, fondling his balls. “Shit, Tristan.” The desperation he heard in Dylan’s voice let him know that he was close to coming. He obviously hadn’t lied when he said it had been a while. So Tristan firmed his grip, fisting Dylan even tighter.
“Hold it for me, Dylan, as long as you can.” Tristan kissed Dylan’s weeping head then opened his mouth wide, sliding Dylan all the way in. The grip on his hair tightened to painful degrees. Tristan continued to work Dylan’s balls, tenderly manipulating them in his hand. He slid Dylan slowly out of his mouth, flattening his tongue against the underside before curling around the tip and sucking lightly. This time he took him all, opening his throat, loosening his jaw. Pre-come coated his tongue and Dylan’s essence dominated his senses. Unintelligible words came from the space above him as Dylan tried to push away. Tristan grabbed on to his ass, digging his fingers deep into that firm flesh, and kept him buried in his mouth, sucking and working his tongue in rhythm along Dylan’s length.
“I’m coming,” Dylan shouted and tried again to move away from him. Tristan held tight and swallowed deeper, urging him to let go. He moaned around Dylan’s cock as the salty release filled his mouth and coated his tongue. Tonight, he craved anything and everything this man was willing to give him. Dylan’s knees buckled when he began to lick him clean.
Tristan ran his tongue along the shaft before he reached out to steady him and stood, only after finishing his task. Tristan drew Dylan to him, holding him close as the man panted against his shoulder. Minutes passed, neither said a word, only their heavy breathing occupied the space around them. Running a soothing hand up and down his back, Tristan pressed his lips to the pulsing vein in his neck. Dylan’s hold slowly tightened around him. The steady heartbeat under his lips started to even out, along with his breathing.
“I tried to pull away,” Dylan whispered into his T-shirt.
“I didn’t want you to,” Tristan replied. Dylan was silent for several long seconds.
“That might have been the best of my life,” Dylan confided sweetly, turning his head where his warm breath skimmed along Tristan’s neck and jawline. He liked that feeling and held him tighter if that were even possible. “Do you always swallow?”
“Not always, but I wanted to with you,” Tristan answered quietly, watching the waves roll across the water. He couldn’t remember ever doing this before. Standing fully clothed, content to just hold a man, being totally in the moment with him, while staring out into the ocean. He ran a hand up Dylan’s spine into his hair. “What did you think? Was it different or the same?”
“Different. Most definitely different,” Dylan responded, then lifted his head. “It was amazing and I… It’s just been a long time.” Dylan’s voice dropped. Tristan could tell the nerves were back.
“You don’t have to explain anything. I get it. I wouldn’t have lasted that long if I’d gone without as long as you.” Tristan kissed the top of Dylan’s head.
“You still have your clothes on,” Dylan pointed out.
“You could take them off me.” Tristan grinned.
“You’d have to loosen your hold.” Dylan chuckled and leaned back, giving him a lazy, sated smile. Damn, he loved that he’d put that smile there.
“I don’t think I’m willing to let you go, Mr. Reeves. You feel good against me.” Dylan grinned at the words and rested his forehead back on Tristan’s shoulder. Tristan held him there, running his fingers through his silky hair. Dylan casually slid his hands under the hem of his T-shirt and
tugged it over his head, carelessly tossing the shirt aside. Their chests were bare and the cool night air blew across his heated skin. Dylan was bolder now and palmed his ass, pulling him closer. From the feel of things, he’d already begun to stir back to life. “So do you want to do the honors or should I?”
“Do you normally bottom?” Dylan asked after a moment’s pause. The look on his face said he’d not been sure.
“Tonight’s different.” Tristan softly kissed those perfect lips.
Dylan’s pupils were huge as he looked him straight in the eyes, need and longing reflected back at him. Damn, this man was pushing his way so far inside his heart. He could see the struggle he was going to have when the time came for him to let go. Leo had been right—Dylan Reeves was definitely a keeper.
“Out here on the deck or in the house?” Tristan finally asked.
“I’d feel more comfortable inside,” Dylan answered honestly.
“Then let’s go.” Tristan took Dylan’s hand and pulled him toward the bedroom.
Dylan lay wrapped in the security of Tristan’s arms. The scent, the touch, the feel of the other man enveloped him and brought something foreign to the surface of his soul. Dylan had never felt more alive than in this moment. Wanting a connection like this for so long and then being tempted with everything he’d ever dreamed of scared him, but at the same time excited him beyond words.
“Do you watch porn?” Tristan questioned, his breath swirling in little puffs across Dylan’s lips. He fumbled with the buttons on Tristan’s jeans.
“I don’t watch it on a regular basis,” Dylan answered. Damn, he couldn’t get his hands on Tristan fast enough. He shoved against the material separating him from Tristan’s warmth.
“Why?” Tristan helped by pushing his pants down his legs and stepping out of them in the middle of the floor. Tristan guided him toward the bed.
“It’s something I can’t have, so watching’s almost like a punishment.”
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