Read Online Get What You Need by Jeanette Grey - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jeanette Grey
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Greg’s eyes, and he shifted, putting his brow against Marsh’s. He closed his eyes for a second, then opened them again, taking the bottle and flipping the cap. Grabbing Marsh’s hand and holding it between them to drizzle the slick across his fingers.
Clear enough. Greg kissed down Marsh’s chest, face hidden as he angled his neck and worked at Marsh’s fly. He tugged down pants and boxers, then knelt between Marsh’s legs, chest heaving and looking so good. The only thing that would make it better would be if he’d lose his damn jeans already.
Marsh had never taken the time to ask before, but tonight, with his ass on the offer, maybe it was time to press his luck.
Marsh slid a hand over his cock, thrusting into the tight clutch of his own fist, then reached lower to circle around his hole. He glanced at Greg. “You gonna?” With his free hand, he gestured toward Greg’s pants.
It took Greg a second for his eyes to focus, his gaze on the place where Marsh was slipping slick fingers over himself. He jerked his head up. “Huh?”
And Marsh had been naked in front of Greg before, but he’d never managed to get Greg out of all of his clothes. Maybe that was a thing of his. A way of keeping distance or power or fuck if Marsh knew. But he wanted it gone. All of it, until it was just skin and need and that long, smooth glide. He wanted to curl his legs around naked ones, wanted to palm the bare flesh of Greg’s thighs as Greg fucked into him.
With the tip of his finger, Marsh breached himself, and wow, yeah, it’d been a while. It felt good, though, and he played it up, writhing into it as he pressed deeper. He stroked his cock with his other hand and let his mouth fall open. “Take off your clothes,” he said on an exhale.
Maybe it wasn’t a game after all. Greg looked down as if surprised to see he was still wearing anything at all, as if he’d been so consumed by watching Marsh that he’d lost track of himself. Marsh gave a little whine as he pressed a second finger in beside the first and Greg slid his thumb into the waistband of his jeans.
He popped the button and Marsh bottomed out to the knuckle. Undid the zipper, and Marsh grazed his prostate, and damn, damn, damn. It was too early, Marsh still too tight, but when Greg pushed his pants and boxer-briefs off and knelt before Marsh naked, Marsh forced the third finger in because he couldn’t wait.
“C’mere,” Marsh groaned, and oh God, all that naked flesh pressed against him. Marsh let go of his cock and grunted at the solid heat of Greg’s erection sliding alongside his. His hand was all slick and gross with lube, but he palmed Greg’s ass all the same and pulled him into the deepest, wettest kiss, and he could come from just this.
Greg slowed them down before he could, though. He slid a fingertip around where Marsh was stretched tight around his own digits, and it was like all the air left Marsh’s body.
“Keep going,” Greg urged. He caressed all around the taut rim, and Marsh keened as he pressed deeper into himself, catching on his gland and having to close his eyes before he gave it up without even getting Greg inside him.
“Need you.” He winced. “It.” And he was a bumbling mess, shaking his head. “Need it, now.”
“Just a little more.” Greg took Marsh’s palm in hand and guided him. “Won’t hurt you.”
God, Marsh wished that were true. He shook his head harder. “I’m ready.”
Greg gave his wrist a twist. “Don’t stop,” he rasped into Marsh’s ear, and then he rose onto his knees, pulling his hand away. He reached over onto the bed where the condom had fallen, and the ache in Marsh’s abdomen and behind his balls flared even hotter.
With the promise of finally getting fucked, he went at himself with purpose, making it just that little extra bit raw, biting the inside of his cheek.
There was the sound of crinkling, and then a low huff, and a warm hand pulling at Marsh’s arm. Marsh opened his
Clear enough. Greg kissed down Marsh’s chest, face hidden as he angled his neck and worked at Marsh’s fly. He tugged down pants and boxers, then knelt between Marsh’s legs, chest heaving and looking so good. The only thing that would make it better would be if he’d lose his damn jeans already.
Marsh had never taken the time to ask before, but tonight, with his ass on the offer, maybe it was time to press his luck.
Marsh slid a hand over his cock, thrusting into the tight clutch of his own fist, then reached lower to circle around his hole. He glanced at Greg. “You gonna?” With his free hand, he gestured toward Greg’s pants.
It took Greg a second for his eyes to focus, his gaze on the place where Marsh was slipping slick fingers over himself. He jerked his head up. “Huh?”
And Marsh had been naked in front of Greg before, but he’d never managed to get Greg out of all of his clothes. Maybe that was a thing of his. A way of keeping distance or power or fuck if Marsh knew. But he wanted it gone. All of it, until it was just skin and need and that long, smooth glide. He wanted to curl his legs around naked ones, wanted to palm the bare flesh of Greg’s thighs as Greg fucked into him.
With the tip of his finger, Marsh breached himself, and wow, yeah, it’d been a while. It felt good, though, and he played it up, writhing into it as he pressed deeper. He stroked his cock with his other hand and let his mouth fall open. “Take off your clothes,” he said on an exhale.
Maybe it wasn’t a game after all. Greg looked down as if surprised to see he was still wearing anything at all, as if he’d been so consumed by watching Marsh that he’d lost track of himself. Marsh gave a little whine as he pressed a second finger in beside the first and Greg slid his thumb into the waistband of his jeans.
He popped the button and Marsh bottomed out to the knuckle. Undid the zipper, and Marsh grazed his prostate, and damn, damn, damn. It was too early, Marsh still too tight, but when Greg pushed his pants and boxer-briefs off and knelt before Marsh naked, Marsh forced the third finger in because he couldn’t wait.
“C’mere,” Marsh groaned, and oh God, all that naked flesh pressed against him. Marsh let go of his cock and grunted at the solid heat of Greg’s erection sliding alongside his. His hand was all slick and gross with lube, but he palmed Greg’s ass all the same and pulled him into the deepest, wettest kiss, and he could come from just this.
Greg slowed them down before he could, though. He slid a fingertip around where Marsh was stretched tight around his own digits, and it was like all the air left Marsh’s body.
“Keep going,” Greg urged. He caressed all around the taut rim, and Marsh keened as he pressed deeper into himself, catching on his gland and having to close his eyes before he gave it up without even getting Greg inside him.
“Need you.” He winced. “It.” And he was a bumbling mess, shaking his head. “Need it, now.”
“Just a little more.” Greg took Marsh’s palm in hand and guided him. “Won’t hurt you.”
God, Marsh wished that were true. He shook his head harder. “I’m ready.”
Greg gave his wrist a twist. “Don’t stop,” he rasped into Marsh’s ear, and then he rose onto his knees, pulling his hand away. He reached over onto the bed where the condom had fallen, and the ache in Marsh’s abdomen and behind his balls flared even hotter.
With the promise of finally getting fucked, he went at himself with purpose, making it just that little extra bit raw, biting the inside of his cheek.
There was the sound of crinkling, and then a low huff, and a warm hand pulling at Marsh’s arm. Marsh opened his
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