To Live Again

By: L. A. Witt

I blinked. “Really?”

“Well, yeah. Look at them.”

Oh, I am…

He turned to me. “That is why guys come here, isn’t it? To get laid?”

“I…guess they do.”

Sailo studied me for a moment. “Is that why you came here?”

Our eyes locked. My heart was giving the bass a run for its money right then, and my mouth went dry. “To be honest, I’m not really sure what I’m doing here.”

“Do you mean you don’t know why you’re here?” He stepped just close enough to make my stomach flutter. “Or you don’t know what to do now that you are?”

I swallowed. “A little of both, I guess?”

He came even closer, moving well into my comfort zone. “Well, let’s narrow it down. I assume you didn’t come here with the express purpose of not hooking up with someone, right?” The upward curl of his lips told me that, yes, it was meant as a lighthearted joke. But laughing meant breathing, and I wasn’t doing much of that at the moment.

Sailo’s smile turned less playful and more friendly, as if he sensed my nerves and wanted me to relax. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

He’d asked a question. He’d…right. Question. I cleared my throat. “Yeah, you are. I don’t think I’d have come here if I didn’t want to get laid.”

As soon as the words were out, my teeth snapped shut, and panic shot through me. Was I really doing this? Did I sound as desperate and scared as I felt? Fuck, I felt like a teenager just then—nervous as hell, certain I was going to screw this up at any moment, and simultaneously almost giddy with arousal as a whole lot of blood rushed south. Gazing into Sailo’s dark eyes made my pulse go haywire. Before tonight, I’d never had a chance to entertain the idea of going beyond looking at someone—at a man—and suddenly there he was, and there I was, and—

And had he really just inched even closer to me?

“Why are you so nervous?” He spoke so softly that, without thinking about it, I leaned in closer to hear him over the bass from downstairs.

“I’m…” I moistened my lips. “This is…” New? Terrifying? Hot? “I’m…”

Sailo reached for me, but his hand didn’t come to rest on my hip or my side. He didn’t touch my arm, didn’t snake his hand around and draw me across that remaining sliver of space between us.

No, he went straight for the front of my pants, and as he slid his fingers and palm over my cock, he grinned.

“That’s what I thought.”

“What you—”

He kissed me.

And the rest of the world just…vanished.

It wasn’t like I’d never been kissed before, but it had been years since a kiss had been anything more than “see you tonight” or “how was your day?” I’d forgotten what it was like for the soft contact of lips on lips to send shudders down my spine, or how my knees could turn to liquid when the tip of a tongue slipped underneath mine.

I curved my hand around the back of his head, my fingers sliding through short, damp hair. His lightly stubbled chin grazed mine. His hand drifted down my back, and when he pulled my hips to his, there was no way he didn’t feel my hard-on just like there was no pretending I didn’t feel his.

Oh. My. God.

There was no mistaking that I was kissing a man this time. For the first time in my life, after years of wondering and fantasizing and thinking this would never happen, it was. I was overwhelmed. Turned on. Disbelieving. I was…I was kissing a man.

Trembling all the way down to my curling toes, I opened to his gently probing tongue and let him explore my mouth. I explored his too, the faint taste of his rum and Coke reminding me of those awkward moments at the bar, of the beautiful man who’d been sitting beside me, fucking with my senses and turning me inside out. The man who was up against me now, touching and kissing me until I couldn’t tell the bass from my heartbeat anymore.

He drew back. Eyes locked on mine, he sucked his lower lip into his mouth, and before I knew what I was doing, I mirrored him, searching for one last taste of his kiss.

He swallowed. “Have I narrowed down why you let me drag you up here?”

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