After nearly a year, Bastian Grey is growing discontent with the lack of intimacy in his relationship with Rick Claremont. Can an adopted cat be the key to a real relationship?
"Turn over." Rick's raspy voice caressed his lips before he drew away to kneel beside Bastian.
"I want to gaze into your eyes while you make love to me," Bastian protested. Rick avoided intimacy whenever and however he could. Rick's eyes narrowed at the words make love, but he didn't respond, no doubt choosing to ignore the comment. Nevertheless, his slender, strong hands guided Bastian onto his side, stroked gently down his spine. Bastian relaxed. At least like this he could see Rick's face, could watch his eyes darken, his cheeks flush.
Rick pressed a warm, soft kiss at his nape, and Bastian moaned softly. Rick could call it fucking but there was too much gentleness, too much caring in his touch, in the brush of his lips, to be anything other than affection and lovemaking.
The smaller man brushed his fingers down, tracing the muscles of Bastian's back, teasing him into relaxing, coaxing him into position. Bastian drew his knee up to the side, giving Rick access to his body. A cap snicked and a slick, gentle finger probed between his cheeks, massaging gently at the opening there. Bastian sighed, pushing into the touch. He needed that touch so much. It shocked him sometimes how much he relied on these "dates" with Rick.
"Good idea." Rick murmured against his spine.
"Uh?" His body focused on the pleasure of Rick's touch, on the heat of his breath whispering across his skin, stirring the fine hairs. The furor of his heartbeat in his ears, the loud rush of blood nearly drowned the words out.
"Meeting at this place today." This place meant the hotel closest to
Arden's office complex, a small, discreet
establishment in the business district that probably catered to more than its
share of nooners and cheating spouses.