Winning With Him (Men of Summer #2) by Lauren Blakely

Turns to ash.

In its place, desire renews.

Hell, the way we feel for each other is like a goddamn phoenix rising as we put the past to rest. There’s so much I want to say, but words are too hard to form when there is this.

I may be the one fucking him right now, but it feels like we’re fucking each other. He’s letting me back inside him, and I’m doing the same. As our noises and grunts fill the air, a beautiful tremble rattles through me, tightening my balls, hardening my cock even more.

“It’s better,” I rasp, finally finding speech again.

“I know,” he gasps, reaching for my chest, sliding those big hands down my skin, making me shiver. “It’s even better.”

“It’s so much better,” I choke out because . . . my God . . . the intensity. The connection. The heat.

I’m not sure the two of us were ever having just sex.

But this is loving and fucking. Fucking and loving.

And it’s knowing.

Knowing that your missing piece is here with you at last, if only you can hold on. If only you can do things right this time around. I’m so damn determined to give him everything he wants.

Grant pushes up on his elbows, his lips parting, his voice a bare whisper of need as he grabs the back of my head with one hand. “Kiss me. Kiss me now.”

As I bury my cock deep in his body, I dip my face to his, savoring his lips, tasting his mouth, swallowing his desire.

We get closer and closer. We don’t stop kissing. I’m not sure that I ever want to stop. We keep up that rhythm for several long, hot minutes, sweat slicking between our skin.

I’m sure—no, I’m positive—that I could come so damn soon.

But I made a promise to him. It might just be a bedroom promise, but I’m not going to start over with Grant and break the first vow I made to him.

As much as it pains me, I pull out, gasping as he groans plaintively, like a wounded animal. But I slide next to him and pull him on top of me, whispering against his lips, “I don’t want to come until you’re inside me.”

He answers me with a hungry, gorgeous kiss that makes my head hazy and my heart jump into his hands.

Where it belongs.





29





Grant





“How do you want me?”

The question is laced with my desperate need as I stroke Declan’s cock, my hard dick next to his, wanting to keep close company. He stutters out a long, sexy sigh as I let go of his dick, then grip my own, then his again.

Back and forth. A tantalizing, hot, back-and-forth jerk as we lie side by side.

“I don’t know if I can think straight right now,” he says.

“Do you want me to do the thinking and the fucking?” I tease.

“Maybe,” he gasps as he hisses through his teeth, spearing his cock into my fist.

But Declan is a man who knows what he wants. A man who relies on instinct, on split-second decisions. “Here.” He pats the space on the bed behind him. “Get behind me.”

“Done,” I say, letting go of his cock, so I can lube up mine. Then I climb over him, press the length of my body to his, my chest to his back.

I slide a hand along the back of his top leg. With his knee pushed up, I line up and find my way home.

I groan the whole time as I sink into my man’s tight body, and he hugs my cock in the most fantastic welcome back greeting ever known to mankind.

The sounds we make are carnal, and everything I ever longed to hear from a man. As we move together, I drive deep into him, my arm wrapping around him, gripping his pecs. My other hand curls around his hard shaft.

When I grasp his length, his whole body shakes.

“Yes, touch me, babe,” he rasps, sounding lost and found. He’s trembling with desire as he reaches back to grab my ass, guiding me deeper into him.

We’re so close like this, skin to skin, bodies pressed tightly together, hardly any space. I don’t want any space between us at all. I only want connection.

I kiss the back of his neck as I fuck him, I murmur yeses as I stroke him.

And soon, we are reduced to the simplest state.

To pants. To grunts. To one or two words.

So good.

Yes.

Fucking yes.

Amazing.

Oh, God.

That’s all we are as our bodies rediscover each other. He shifts his neck so he’s looking at me, and he doesn’t have to say a word for me to know what he wants.

We make out like crazy. Kissing wildly in the kind of soul-searing kiss that you don’t ever think can truly happen to you.

Until it does.

And then . . . you know. That “seeing stars” isn’t just a saying. That it’s the truth. When you come together as one with your guy. When you reconnect with the man you’ve spent the last five years longing for.

Maybe you didn’t feel that longing every day or every night. Maybe you learned to live with it. Maybe some of the time, maybe even most of the time, it was dormant, but still you hoped that you’d find your way back to each other.

Now, here we are, wrapped up together. I move in him, rocking my hips, indulging in slow, euphoric strokes that make my groin simmer and my dick show off how hard it can get.

Pleasure blazes over my skin as we kiss. But soon our lips slide apart as I hit that pace. The pace that says we’re not far off. Lust spins in my veins, coiling tight and hot in my blood.