...The elevator dinged, the doors whisked open behind Sam, remained opened for several beats, then whisked shut, and the car plummeted back to the first floor. Sam didn’t lift his head. Neither did Owen. It had been forty-four days, eight hours, and approximately twenty-six minutes, give or a take a few minutes, since Sam had kissed him, and Owen didn’t know how hungry he had been for it until their mouths touched.
Sam was a good kisser. A good kisser. Owen admired everything about the way he kissed. The firmness of his lips, what he did with his tongue, the soft sounds he made in his throat. Kissing Sam was fun. Being kissed by Sam was an experience Owen could never replicate—could barely even comprehend. Sam poured himself into the caress, his fingers hard on Owen’s shoulders, his cock nudging Owen’s hip. The elevator opened again, and Owen heard somebody gasp, but even then, he couldn’t be bothered to look.
Sam devoured his mouth. His tongue swept past Owen’s lips, seeking out every inch, moving along every curve. His teeth clashed against Owen’s mouth, but the pain barely registered. The way Sam kissed him convinced Owen that he hadn’t been the only one counting the minutes since the last time they’d touched. That thought made his hunger surge, and he responded in kind, trying to satiate himself on the way Sam tasted, on the way his skin smelled.
“Sam…”
“What?”
“We’ve got…” A second kiss stole Owen’s breath, and his knees buckled. If he had to rank Sam among all his partners, he would put the man in the top three best kissers category. Maybe even the top two. There were so many clothes between them that he felt restricted, like his circulation was being cut off by his pants and shoes. The tightness in his slacks undoubtedly had something to do with his boner—his flesh was fully engorged.
“What?”
“Sam…we’ve got to get off this elevator.”
Sam lifted his head and blinked. His cheeks were red, though that could have been from the evening chill. “We’re on an elevator?”
Owen laughed. “Yes, and I think we’ve scandalized my neighbors.”
“Can’t we just stop the elevator and keep kissing?” Sam tilted his head and began gnawing on Owen’s throat. Chills began to gather at the base of his spine. “God, you make me feel like I’m going to explode.”
Owen understood. “It’ll be better if we get off the elevator. My apartment is…” Sam sucked his Adam’s apple between gentle teeth and Owen’s cock jerked. “More comfortable. Really.”
“What floor?”
“I don’t know.” He felt Sam’s chuckle, and that jarred his brain into working. “Twelve. Twelfth floor.”
Sam reached behind him and stabbed the correct button on the first attempt. Then he slammed his mouth to Owen’s again, and made him forget that he even had an apartment, much less what floor it was on, or what building it was in. Sam had a thing that he did with his tongue—a strange little technique Owen couldn’t mimic, no matter how hard he tried. But it always made the inside of his cheeks prickle, and the hair stand up on his arms. By the time the doors opened onto the twelfth floor again, Owen’s cock was throbbing...