“Condom,” RT replied, his fingers tightening in Z’s hair as he held Z’s head. “In the bag.”
Z did his best not to show his surprise. He’d fully expected RT to put a halt to this before they made it that far. Z had been mentally preparing himself for rejection when RT came to his senses, something he was ridiculously good at.
Rather than wait for that to happen, Z crawled off the bed once more, retrieving a condom and a small packet of lube from RT’s bag. If he’d been thinking clearly, he would’ve asked RT why he was prepared, but at this point, Z really didn’t give a shit. The fact that he was meant RT had been anticipating something, which gave Z hope.
For fear RT would change his mind if given too much time to think, Z ripped open the condom, but before he could cover himself, RT sat up and took the rubber from his hand.
There was a brief standoff—their eyes locked—and Z fully expected RT to change his mind. When RT got to his feet, Z braced himself for the inevitable rejection.
“On the bed,” RT instructed, nodding toward the mattress as he rolled the condom over his erection, then coated his cock with a generous amount of lube while Z took a seat on the bed and continued to watch him, stroking his own dick as he did.
Z wanted to look at RT when RT took him this first time, to make sure RT was with him the entire time. So rather than flip over onto his stomach, Z reclined back, then placed both feet flat on the mattress, opening himself up for RT.
When RT’s lubed fingers probed his asshole, Z groaned, eager for more. “Oh, fuck. That…feels…good.”
RT’s eyes locked on Z’s while Z bucked his hips toward the intruding digits. Truth was, Z hadn’t anticipated being on the receiving end, but he wasn’t big on logistics. Being with RT was all that mattered at this point.
“You wanna feel me deep inside you?” RT inserted two fingers, scissoring them and making Z gasp. A little maneuvering and…
“Fuck!” Z’s hips bucked off the bed when RT ground his skilled fingers against Z’s prostate.
Seeing RT so intensely focused, combined with the mind-numbing pleasure of RT’s fingers expertly fucking his ass nearly sent Z over the edge. Rather than make a spectacle of himself, Z closed his eyes briefly, trying to stave off his release. “More. I need more.”
Thankfully RT was on board with that plan, because he planted one knee on the bed, forced Z’s knees back toward his chest, and brushed the head of his dick against Z’s puckered hole.
“Fuck me,” Z pleaded.
RT gave him what he asked for, pushing against him until his thick cock breached the tight ring of muscles. Z sucked in a breath, the immense pressure a promise of what was to come.
“Damn, you’re tight,” RT groaned, forcing himself deeper while Z held his legs to his chest, opening himself more.
“Relax for me, Z,” RT whispered. “Feel me.”
Oh, he was feeling him, all right. Every single glorious inch of him sliding into his body, grazing delicate nerve endings until Z’s breath was rushing in and out of his lungs.
“Not gentle,” Z begged. “Fuck me hard, Ryan.”
RT’s eyes widened, and Z figured he was a little thrown off by the fact Z used his full name, but he didn’t take the time to think about that. Being filled by RT was even better than he’d anticipated, and Z had years of fantasies to compare it with.
“You’re so fucking tight.” RT forced himself deeper, until he was filling Z completely.
RT brought his body over Z’s, resting his hands on the mattress, while his shoulders pushed against the back of Z’s thighs, folding him damn near in half. Z didn’t have time to think about the discomfort of the position, because RT retreated slowly and then drove into him, pulling a strangled groan from Z’s chest.
“Too much?” RT questioned.
“God, no. Fuck me. Hard.”
From Z’s position, it looked as though RT couldn’t have held back if he’d wanted to. And Z…well, he finally had RT right where he wanted him. This was so much better than the numerous fantasies he’d had—most of them about RT succumbing to the pleasure beneath him. But this worked, too.
“God, you feel good,” Z moaned. “So fucking good.
Pulling RT’s head down, Z sought his mouth with his own, licking his tongue past RT’s lips while RT continued to drive his hips forward, pulling them back while Z took everything the man was willing to give him. RT fucked him deeper, harder, faster until the kiss was nothing more than a few attempts of their tongues touching. Pulling back, RT placed his hands beneath Z’s knees and pounded into him over and over, faster.
“Ryan…fuck…”
“Stroke your dick,” RT ordered. “I wanna watch you come.”
They were both coated in sweat as RT continued to impale him over and over. Z couldn’t tear his eyes off RT, watching the way he focused on Z’s face. It was more than he could take, but he managed to hold back long enough, clinging to the razor-sharp edge, not wanting to go over without RT.
When it became clear that RT was hell-bent on waiting him out, Z couldn’t hold on any longer. Crying out, he continued to stroke his cock until his orgasm crashed through. With his eyes locked with RT’s, Z let himself go, cum spurting over his chest.
“Oh, fuck, that’s hot,” RT exclaimed, his cock pulsing in Z’s ass moments before he exploded, still buried deep inside Z.
When RT was finished, he removed the condom, glancing around as though seeking an exit. Not wanting him to think too hard about what had just happened, Z got to his feet, took the condom, then disappeared to the bathroom to clean up and dispose of the condom. He left the door open so that he could keep an eye on RT. He knew if he left the man alone long enough, he’d be the one to disappear.
He returned a minute later with a warm washcloth, which he’d intended to use to clean RT, only RT stole it from him, doing the honors himself. It wasn’t lost on him that RT wasn’t looking at him. For now, Z pretended not to notice, not wanting to think about what this all meant.
Instead, he grabbed the washcloth when RT was finished and tossed it toward the bathroom, climbed into bed with RT, and pulled him into his arms.
And for the first time in a long time, Z slept without so much as a single dream.
SIX
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, RYAN HAD awoken long before the sun, surprisingly sated—more so than he’d been in years. However, the instant his eyes had opened, he’d realized his mistake.
There, in the bed beside him, was Z, sleeping soundly and so very naked. A vivid reminder of what had happened the night before. It had only taken Ryan one minute before his brain registered that he needed to get the hell out of there.
So he had.
He’d run out of there and right to his own room, taken a shower, and tried to pretend that he hadn’t fucked up royally. He’d fucked Z. Never mind the fact that it’d been mind-blowing, quite possibly the best sex Ryan had ever had. He’d still allowed it to happen, and fraternization at work was something he didn’t allow. Not for himself, anyway. Not anymore.
He couldn’t care less what his employees did, but Ryan had already experienced hell on earth the last time he’d been so foolish. He had no intention of repeating history.
No fucking thank you.
Now, as he sat at a white-linen-covered table with several others he hadn’t met, Ryan tried to enjoy the reception. Braydon and Jessie’s wedding had been damn near perfect, and the party afterward was moving along nicely. As much as Ryan wanted to enjoy himself, though, his mind couldn’t seem to let go of what had happened last night with Z.
Every single time he looked at Z, Ryan remembered the way it had felt to be lodged deep inside him, relentlessly fucking him while Z had watched him so intently, giving himself over to Ryan without question.