Free Cherry Pie by Samantha Kane Page B

whispered. “I want you to fuck me , John. I want someone to fuck me . Not the football star or the boy toy or the junkie. Me .”
    “Aw, Christ, Connor,” John sighed. He crawled on the bed beside Connor. “Slide up and roll over.”
    Connor did as he was told, slow and easy, and John was struck by the notion that Connor always moved like that. Every move was deliberate and steady, no rushing, no fumbling. As if he thought about every step, every gesture before he made it.
    When he finally lay on his back, Connor didn’t look at John. He covered his eyes with one hand, his other arm thrown over his head and hanging off the side of the bed. John lay down on top of him, deliberately letting all his weight settle. Connor slid his legs open, and John’s fell between, but still Connor wouldn’t look at him. That was all right. John could still give him what he asked for. John bent his legs and pressed his knees against the insides of Connor’s thighs, forcing them up. Connor didn’t fight him. When Connor’s knees were bent and he was wide enough, John fit his hips into the space they’d made and pressed back inside. Connor jerked and moaned.
    “Hold on, Connor,” John said softly. “Hold on to me.” John took the hand Connor had flung over the bed and pulled it down and wrapped it around his waist. He braced his forearm above Connor’s shoulder, his hand brushing Connor’s beautiful hair. Then he reached for the hand covering Connor’s eyes. Before he could move it, Connor lowered it and wrapped his other arm around John’s waist. John braced his other arm in the same way as the first so that he could slide the fingers of both hands into Connor’s hair.
    As John began to move, not as frantic as he’d been the first time they’d tried this, Connor’s arms tightened. His eyes were scrunched closed. In minutes their breathing grew ragged, and Connor’s arms slipped around John’s waist until he was clutching him. Then Connor began to move. His hips rose to meet John’s thrusts, tentatively at first, but soon he was meeting John halfway, fucking him as surely as he was being fucked. His knees bent at more of an angle, his feet right up against John’s ass, pushing him and holding him against Connor.
    John had never felt so much a part of someone as he did right then. Connor surrounded him, needing him so badly John didn’t think he was even aware of the little whimpers that escaped each time John drove home inside him. John wanted to taste those sounds on his tongue. But as aggressive as their fuck was, the kiss he gave Connor was tender. He gently pulled on Connor’s lower lip, holding it softly between his until Connor opened his mouth with a gasp. Then John kissed him deeply, loving the breathy sighs that escaped Connor only to be swallowed by John. His hands in Connor’s hair were gentle. He didn’t want to pull it or be too rough. He wanted Connor to feel two things: John’s cock in his ass and John’s lips on his. He ran his thumb across the grooves etched in Connor’s forehead as he concentrated so hard on what they were doing. John loved it, loved how in the moment Connor was.
    Suddenly Connor grew more agitated, his movements jerky. He clutched John between his thighs and held so tightly to his waist that John could barely breathe. Connor’s eyes flew open in a panic. “John,” he shouted, and then a cry that sounded suspiciously like a sob burst from him, and John felt him come, felt the hot gush of semen against his belly where Connor’s cock was pressed between them.
    “Connor,” he whispered. He pressed deep and let the contractions of Connor’s orgasm ignite his own. Coming in Connor was quite possibly the most erotic and satisfying thing John had ever done. He had his open mouth poised over Connor’s, and their uneven breaths mingled as they both trembled in the aftermath.
    When he could walk without falling, John climbed off the bed and threw away the condom in the dark. Then