Chapter 3: The Long Night
He lifted me by the arm, pulling me up from the kitchen tile as if I weighed nothing. My knees were raw from the cold floor, my lips swollen and slick, and he looked at me with that heavy hunger before he turned and started down the hallway.
"Come on," he said over his shoulder. "Bedroom."
I followed on shaky legs. The house was quiet around us, all the lights off except the one in the kitchen we'd left behind. He pushed open a door at the end of the hall and the amber glow of a bedside lamp spilled out, soft and warm against the dark.
His room smelled like him, clean sheets and that cologne he always wore, the one I'd gotten used to standing close enough to catch. The bed was huge, rumpled like he'd been lying there before I arrived. He stopped at the edge of it and turned to face me.
"Come here," he said, softer this time.
I stepped into his arms and he folded me against his chest, his big hands settling on my lower back. He kissed me slow, nothing like the demands in the kitchen. This was deliberate, patient, his lips moving over mine while his thumb traced circles at the base of my spine.
I melted into him. My hands found his shoulders, the hard muscle under the fabric of his shirt, and I held on as his mouth worked against mine. He deepened the kiss, tongue sliding past my lips, and I made a small sound that he swallowed whole.
When he pulled back, his eyes were dark and warm. "You still nervous?"
"Yeah," I said, breathless.
"Good." He smiled, that lazy curl at the corner of his mouth. "Means you're paying attention."
He turned me around, guiding me toward the bed with a hand on my shoulder. The mattress dipped under my weight as he eased me down onto my stomach, my face pressed into the cool of the pillowcase. Before I could turn over, he was there, hands sliding under my hips to lift me.
"Let me get you situated," he said.
He slid a pillow beneath me, positioning it under my hips so I was raised, arched, exposed. The fabric of my jeans strained across my ass and I felt the heat of his gaze like a physical weight. I gripped the sheet in my fists, heart slamming against my ribs.
The bed dipped as he knelt behind me. His fingers trailed down my spine, slow and deliberate, tracing each vertebra until they reached the waistband of my pants.
"Relax," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "I'm gonna take my time with you."
I nodded against the pillow, breathing hard. His fingers hooked into my waistband and pulled, dragging the denim down my thighs. The cool air hit my skin and I shivered, my cock straining against the mattress, leaking.
He made a low sound of appreciation as he looked at me, laid out beneath him. His palm pressed flat against the small of my back, heavy and warm.
"Look at you," he said, almost to himself. "Been hiding all this from me."
I didn't answer. I couldn't. His hand slid down, fingers brushing over the swell of my ass, and I twitched under his touch.
"Otis," I breathed.
"What?" His hand stilled.
I turned my head to look at him over my shoulder, his massive frame blocking out the lamplight. "You're really gonna do this to me?"
His smile was slow and dark. "I told you I would." He leaned down, lips brushing against my ear. "You gonna let me?"