Thick, warm ropes of cum paint my chest, and his and I finally let myself go and fill the condom. I time my thrusts with my hand stroking his cock so he feels me all over him.
When he collapses, I wrap my arms around his back and gently lower him to the mattress. My head is still buzzing, but I need to take care of him. I pull out of him slowly, keeping the condom on to contain the mess. I head to his bathroom, dispose of the condom and wash myself up before running a washcloth under warm water and returning to his bedroom.
He's exactly where I left him, softly snoring. It makes me chuckle. What's better than a nap after sex?
I clean him up as slowly and carefully as I can so as not to wake him. He wakes up with a snort a few minutes later, looking adorable and thoroughly fucked.
"Did I die?" he asks and a loud laugh explodes from my chest.
"You didn't die, Brockman. Just a couple of good orgasms."
One blue eye looks at me warily. "Huang, I think you fucked up."
Worry slithers through my gut, but I don't let it take over. "Oh? How did I do that?" I ask, pulling my boxers back on and sitting on the mattress next to him. I tuck a sweaty strand of hair plastered to his forehead and push it back into his dirty-blonde hair that is sticking up at all angles.
His eyes soften at the gesture and I'm vaguely aware that I'm breaking all my own rules. But it feels right in the moment. It feels right with him.
"I'm already thinking about taking out a personal loan so we can do that every night," he says, and it takes me so off guard I can't help but laugh again.
I rest my hand on his sweaty chest, toying with the soft hair there.
"I'm feeling very needy," he insists.
"No loans needed," I reply. I don't want him taking loans out, but I'm sure he's exaggerating. Just a goofy way of complimenting me in bed.
I know I should look at the clock, but I don't. My professional walls vanished the second he came on my cock. I can't leave him yet. Not only for him, but for me too.
"Can I shoot you?"
Chapter eighteen
Gareth
My brain must be drunk on hormones because I think Trey just asked if he could shoot me. Like he was asking for my take out order.
"Uh… what?"
He chuckles to himself and he's so different from the cold, stoic man I first took out to dinner. He smiles now, laughs, and calls me pet names. God, the second the word 'baby' came out of his mouth I just about left to go pick out a ring. I'm sure it was just role play or something, but then he did it again. All I can pray is that he's starting to feel even a fraction of what I feel.
"Shoot you. Like, with my camera. I do boudoir photography and I brought my camera tonight."
Like I could deny this man anything. I don't exactly feel sexy right now. I'm sweaty and my brain is still fuzzy and my mouth is dry, but if it means he spends more time here with me, I'd let him take photos of my feet.
"Sure," I say, trying to sound more confident than I am. I've been running and working out, but nearly a decade of drinking means I still have a stubborn belly I can't quite lose.
He drops a kiss to my forehead and my heart clenches. Every time he shows me this soft side of himself, hope stitches itself into the stupid organ in my chest. It’s begging me to beg him to love me back. Which would surely have him running for the hills.
He comes back a moment later with a black camera bag that he rests on my dresser as he pulls components out and puts together a camera. We hadn't turned on the overhead light in our hurry, so he looks around the room until he finds my side lamp. He unplugs it, pulls the shade off and looks around for an outlet, the tip of his tongue peaking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration.
It makes me smile. I'd forgotten he does that when he's concentrating.
He finds what he's looking for and plugs the lamp in. It's a softer, warmer bulb designed for reading before falling asleep so it's not very harsh. He drags it over my dresser until he's happy with the result.
"Uh... what do I do?"
He comes over to me, instead of talking, and grabs my wrist softly, dragging my arm to rest above my head. He drapes the flat sheet over my waist, hiding my cock which couldn't get hard right now if it tried.
He touches my other arm gently, resting my hand on my chest the way he wants it.