"Hmm?"
Ethan Caldwell arched a brow, his dark, obsidian eyes heavy with a terrifying weight of unslaked lust as he looked down at the man trembling beneath him. The corner of his mouth hooked up in a dangerous, predatory smirk: "You don't want it anymore?"
As he spoke, Ethan didn't stop moving. His large, calloused hand swept down the length of Julian Sterling's back, which was slick with a sheen of perspiration. His palm glided over the curve of the spine, lingering possessively on the plump, well-rounded buttocks that he had been tormenting. He kneaded the flesh, his fingers digging in with a comfortable familiarity, molding the soft curves to his liking.
Then, his touch turned wicked. His fingers slid lower, brazenly brushing against the point of their union, tracing the rim of the small, overstretched entrance that was greedily swallowing his length. He felt the tightness, the heat, the way the muscle spasmed around him.
