Page 35 of Rent: Paid in Full
He traces the line of my jaw with his nose and then snaps gently at it with his teeth. I wince even though I was expecting the contact. It makes him smile. Pillowy lips curve. Soft pink. Soft lips. This close, they almost look sweet. He grazes my chin again, the other side this time. My head lolls to the side, inadvertently giving him more real estate to work with.
His hands fall to my hips, fingers winding through belt loops, pulling me tightly against him. He’s hard. So hard his dick rubs against mine, digging into me, knocking a little sound out of me that I hope he mistakes for an indignant grunt rather than the weak groan it was. He rests his forehead against mine as he moves his hips slowly, chaffing, grinding, almost hurting, but not quite.
Good,I think.If he keeps this up, he’ll run the timer down without ever getting his tongue in my mouth. Perfect. Just what I want.
It’s almost as though he can hear my thoughts because as I think it, he runs his nose gently down mine and sighs softly.
Fuck, he’s close. He’s so goddamn close. His mouth is less than an inch from mine. He’s so close he looks blurry. Blond, gray, pink, and white swirl together, making me dizzy. He leans in a little more. So close I can feel the heat of his lips on my mine. It’s like a furnace. So hot that I push myself up onto my toes and squirm against the wall for respite.
“Just kiss me, you dick,” a strained voice that sounds a lot like mine whines.
He smiles like he did last time. Big and beautiful. White teeth gleaming, eyes dancing for a second, and then sliding shut.
I don’t close my eyes. I keep them open, watching as he blurs more and brushes his lips against mine. Softly. Softly again, and then a little bit harder…but still soft. Still too goddamn soft. I squirm for real now, palms flat against the wall, fingers clawing it.
One of his hands curls around my lower back and the other travels up my chest and around my neck. That one, the one on my neck, pulls me forward. I let it.
Something bad has happened to my brain. It’s turned to mush. I’m gooey inside. I don’t have an ounce of resistance in my body and there doesn’t seem to be a thing I can do about it.
He moans as he takes my mouth.
At least, I hope to God it was him and not me.
His tongue slips between my lips, parting them gently, tasting, withdrawing. Tasting again. Deeper and harder. He pulls away slightly and murmurs something worryingly like “Mine” into my mouth. Then he covers my lips with his, and his tongue searches for mine. My tongue rises to meet his without any conscious intention from me. Stroking. Caressing. Kissing back. Making out. Making me burn harder and hotter than ever before. His breathing is ragged. So is mine.
My eyes are closed now, my mouth open, my lips bruising. And holy shit, it feels good.
I physically jump when I hear the timer. My shoulders and spine clench so hard that my feet leave the earth. It’s a jarring, loud sound, a blade to the brain. It feels otherworldly and odd like it’s here courtesy of a time-traveling machine. Alien and uninvited.
Miller steps back, beaming like the happiest man in the world, running a thumb across his bottom lip thoughtfully, eyes hooded and creased as he openly stares at my mouth.
“Damn, boy,” he drawls, stepping away from me, leaving a cold gust in the space he creates between us. “Five hundred dollars for two minutes of your time?” His laugh sounds less like a laugh and more like he’s saying,hmph. “You keep this up, and you might find yourself the highest-paid rent boy in history.”
With that, he drops the invisible strings he’s been using to play me, leaving me to slump onto my desk in a heap as he heads for the bathroom. He leaves the door wide open, standing in front of the toilet, unbuckling, and pushing his jeans and boxers down enough that I can see the clear line where two perfect muscular mounds of muscle meet.
I’m not looking.
I’m not, okay? It’s just that he’s right there, and the door’s wide fucking open.
“What are you doing?” I ask dumbly.
“Jerking off. Wanna watch?”
Fuck yes.
“Hell no!”
He chuckles softly. “Look away then.”
I mean to. Swear to God, I mean to, but I can’t seem to make it happen. He has his back toward me, legs open shoulder-width apart, right arm moving up and down in front of him. My own hand clamps onto the base of my dick, squeezing hard. Squeezing hard enough to squeeze some much-needed sense into me.
Sense doesn’t take hold.
Miller’s head tilts back, flaxen hair catching the light, and he lets out a small, helpless sound.
I know that sound. It’s the sound he makes when he’s close.
Lats and delts clench, digging deep ravines into his back. I still can’t look away.