Mind (Naughty Wishes #3) by Joey W. Hill

But, fuck, it changed where they could go tonight. It shouldn’t. He should just ignore it, just let it go. He drew back and slid in home again, a long, sizzling line of friction that had Chris’s body gathering again. He worked Chris the way he needed. In, out. The feeling was incredible. With the few brain cells he had left, he thought to grab a corner of Chris’s bedding and work it underneath him. Chris, understanding, shifted his hands to pull it under his palms, but he was panting. “Close . . . fucking close.”
    “Come, then, you stubborn bastard.”
    Chris let out a strangled cry, his hips jacking back and forth. Geoff moved with him, making sure he hit right where he needed to hit on each impact. Being squeezed by all those incredible muscles was sexual bliss. He might have killed someone for the privilege of releasing into Chris’s fine ass, but for some reason he pushed it aside, instead reveling in taking Chris all the way home, knowing that when he climaxed it was because Geoff was inside him, because he was responding to what Geoff could give him.
    Once that gateway was open, it never took a guy long to make it to the finish line. Geoff remembered Sam picking up a
Cosmopolitan
when they were at the grocery store and solemnly informing him that a woman’s climax was usually three times longer than a man’s. What they lost in time, they could recoup in intensity, though, if it was done right. Geoff was determined to do it right.
    When Chris came to a shuddering halt, head down, his wide chest moving in and out like a bellows, he thought he’d hit his mark. But Chris started moving against him, realizing Geoff hadn’t yet come. Chris had a generous heart. Why that made Geoff hurt a little bit more, he didn’t want to think about right now. He needed to wrap this up before he screwed things up entirely.
    Gripping Chris’s hips, Geoff eased back until he freed his rigid dick. Just that friction alone was almost enough to send him over. He tried thinking of fungus, his grandmother or random
Sesame Street
episodes. Anything to calm it down.
    “What . . .” Chris tried to twist around. Geoff nipped out of range, barely, snagging his brief shorts and pulling them back on in a blink so he could be back beside Chris and not leave him feeling abandoned. He grabbed his arm where he was flailing in the dark, ran a hand over his face, his hair, those thick locks, settling him. “Easy. Come back to the bed. Stretch out.”
    Chris complied after a hesitation, probably thinking Geoff was going to go about it another way. Once he was settled, Geoff knelt over him and put a palm on his chest, holding him there. He’d stepped on the TV remote while finding his shorts, so he picked it up and clicked the TV back on. A dim light filled the room, along with the low murmur of the late night newscast. Chris was sprawled on the mattress, cock lying against his thigh, legs spread, his eyes confused but mouth slack from his climax. The view alone made Geoff bite back a shudder. His cock was well and truly pissed at him, and he couldn’t say he blamed it a bit.
    “Geoff.” Chris pushed up on his elbows, brown eyes meeting his. “What’s going on?”
    Geoff shook his head. “We’re not in the dark anymore, Chris. Look at me.”
    “I am looking at you.”
    Are you?
The words beat on the inside of Geoff’s chest, harder blows than he’d expected. But he managed a tight smile and brushed his knuckles over Chris’s chest, tugging on the hair. “All right, then. I want to leave it there for tonight.”
    He straightened, all too aware he stopped looking at Chris as he pulled on his slacks and shrugged back into his shirt. He couldn’t handle looking at Chris, his naked, muscular body, his puzzled expression.
    Fuck, had he truly just denied himself the chance to come in Chris’s ass because he got caught up in some dysfunctional bullshit about family rejection? He’d fucked plenty of people in defiance of that