Free Quiet Nights by Mary Calmes

like a drum, even though his voice flowed like syrup on a warm day.
    “So I need you to forgive Britton, since he was actually innocent of being a dreambreaker,” he mused, nuzzling his face against my hair, lifting his knee, wedging his thigh between mine as he grabbed a handful of my ass to bring me even tighter against him. “Douche bag, yes. But he was not Prince Charming in the flesh.”
    “Why’re you caring about Britton?”
    “Because I don’t want anything or anyone between us,” he explained as he tilted my head up so I could see him. “I want to be the only one in your head and in your heart and… just… you know.”
    “In me?” I teased.
    His glower was hot. “I’m trying to have a fuckin’ moment here and—”
    “Shut up,” I said affectionately, smiling as I stared at him, memorizing every line on his face, the clench of his sharp, square jaw and the mostly blown pupils. “I may have been mulling over the past, but I’ve been securely standing here, in the present with you, for a very long fuckin’ time.”
    “What does that mean?” he asked, jolting under me as I sat up, dragging my ass over his groin before I straddled his hips.
    “That means there’s only been room for you for years.”
    “Yeah?”
    “I promise,” I said as I leaned over and kissed him, feeling lighter, freer, and more than anything, full of voracious, consuming need.
    More than anyone else, I wanted Cosimo Renaldi. Britton amounted to a childhood crush in comparison. To have Coz under me, wanting me, already my best friend and poised now to become my lover, nearly overloaded me with happiness. It had to be what winning the lottery was like, except it was a win for my whole life, every part.
    I kissed him hard and deep, wanting all of him, feasting, claiming, and biting when he tried to pull away even for a heartbeat.
    “Fuck, I knew you’d taste good,” he gasped, rolling me to my back, powering me down, letting me feel the strength in his long, muscular body before he took control and delivered one ravaging, drowning kiss after another.
    I lost time because the end of wanting, of yearning, was buried down so far that excavating it, dredging it from the well of my heart made everything else fade to nothing. There was only his hot, hungry mouth and his hand tugging at my belt, working open the fastener on my suit pants and sliding down the zipper. When he slipped his hard, callused hand under the elastic of my briefs and wrapped his long fingers around my length, I bucked into his grip, wanting more.
    “God, you’re gorgeous,” he husked, stroking me as he kissed up my throat to my jaw and up behind my ear. “Your gold skin and your big beautiful eyes that I hate to say are green ’cause that’s not enough when I tell people, and your mouth and your perfect round ass.”
    Oh dear God, he thought I was pretty?
    “I can’t stand how everyone stares at you and wants to touch you because I want that to be just me. I wanna be the only one.”
    “Yes,” I whined in the back of my throat. “Just you.”
    “Where’s your lube?” he whispered into my ear.
    I muttered the answer about the nightstand, and he unceremoniously dumped me on my side as he rolled off the couch.
    “You—”
    “Get up,” he rumbled, grabbing hold of my hand and pulling me to my feet.
    He dragged me behind him to my bedroom and shoved me down onto the mattress, my feet on the floor, as he went to the nightstand.
    “What do you want me to—Coz!”
    I wanted to know what he liked, if he wanted me to blow him first or if he just wanted to fuck me, but he’d grabbed the lube and returned faster than I was expecting. He dropped to his knees, shucked my unfastened pants enough to let my cock bob free, and then took my hard, leaking shaft down the back of his throat.
    The movement was seamless, fluid, and the suction brought a hoarse cry from my chest, his name torn out of me.
    “Fuck,” I yelled, writhing under him, hearing the cap