Page 37 of A Minute More

I manage to behave myself until I’m home and back in my room. Purposefully, I leave my phone where I can’t reach it and swivel in my computer chair, trying like fuck to center myself, to think of anything that isn’t Simon. My mind wanders to my mom and my little sister and then to my grandma and then it’s back to Simon.

And just as if I’ve conjured him up, he’s there in the doorway of my room. I blink and blink, trying to work out if I’m hallucinating or not.

“You weren’t answering your texts,” he says meekly.

I rub at my face. Apparently, I’m hearing voices.

“Are you really here?” I ask, and Simon nods, moving toward me and pressing a cool hand against my face.

“You’re not sick?” he asks, and I shake my head. Although I do feel a bit sick in the head, my mind in a full fever dream at the moment.

But fuck, his touch feels good. I lean into it, catching his wrist and holding it to me. And then my face turns, my nose running across the inside of his wrist, and I bite down softly, making him exhale in shock.

My tongue peeks out and swirls across the soft skin there, running up the length of his thumb and pulling the entire thing into my mouth.

His breath stutters out of him, choppy and drawn out as my tongue laves over the pad of his finger. I can taste him, the smack of soap on his skin.

Biting down softly on the end, I move on to his forefinger, pulling it right into my mouth.

Simon’s just standing near me, completely immobile, just letting me molest his fingers. His gaze is hooded, his lips parted as he breathes heavily, and I can’t stop, just move from finger to finger, sucking and licking and biting, consuming him piece by piece. And it’s never felt more right.

When I make it to his pinkie, he threads his other hand through my hair, his nails digging into my scalp. I let out a low moan and grab on to his waist, pulling him closer, his legs now between mine as my tongue and teeth drag across his skin. I just want him closer, want to feel him against me.

I move him closer, his finger falling from my mouth, and I press my face against his stomach, my hands splayed across his lower back.

“What are you doing?” he breathes.

“Surviving,” I murmur. I inhale his scent, feeling it travel through my system and straight to my groin.

My cock twitches, and my fingers slide up under his shirt, pulling it up just an inch, showing me the soft skin beneath. My lips press against his belly, dragging across the smooth surface, and he lets out a whimper.

“Wesley,” he says, almost a plea. But I don’t know for what. Don’t ask me to stop, Simon. Don’t fucking make me.

His shirt is dragged up further and my nose and mouth travel up his stomach and chest, until I’m right at his nipples. So different from what I’m used to, and yet so familiar.

My mouth latches on to one, and he groans, his hand tightening in my hair. The tug of it makes my entire body catch fire, flames licking up and down my spine. I’m set ablaze.

I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. A few weeks ago, I’d never considered kissing a man, and here I am, biting at his bare skin. I move to the other side and pull it between my teeth. I listen to Simon hiss, and fuck, that travels down to my dick and it thickens between my legs. I don’t know what’s happening to me and yet, given my general state these past few weeks, I don’t even care. In this moment, it feels right.

My mouth unlatches from him, and I stand up, my hands framing his face. His eyes are hooded, his lips swollen and red from biting them. And I can do nothing but lay my mouth against his.

He moans into me as I kiss him. Just a minute more, Simon.Just let me do this a minute more, I think as I walk him back toward the bed. The back of his legs hit the mattress and he falls backward, toppling me over with him. The absence of his lips in those seconds makes me want to weep, but as soon as my mouth lands back on his, I feel whole again. Complete.

My body is fully on top of his, his legs wrapped around mine as I devour him, licking my tongue through his mouth, biting at his bottom lip, and fisting his hair. Messing him up. Marking him as mine.

“I didn’t come here for this,” he gasps when my mouth moves across his jaw to his ear.

“Thank fuck you came,” I reply, grabbing on to his earlobe with my teeth and pulling it between my lips. Simon arches up, the length of his cock pressing against mine. And fuck, it feels good. I rock into him, our clothes still on, and yet I feel everything as if we were naked, as if we were stripped nude.

My mouth lands on his again as I grind against him, my kisses growing more and more desperate, heated, and overall obsessive.

Mine. He’s mine.

My mind chants this over and over as Simon arches into me, and then I feel it, the subtle change in his body, in his movements. With a bowed back, his head thrown back in pleasure, I feel him come undone.

And fuck if that won’t be ingrained in my mind for years to come.

Oh my god.