The Best Man: Part Three (FINAL) Read Online Free PDF

stumbling over each other as they rush to open the shirt and then Patrick’s entire torso is exposed to him and he finally gets his fingers in that hair, and he drags his nails over skin, and his breath is caught in his throat as he goes for Patrick’s belt and tugs it open. He stops for a moment to look at him but Patrick doesn’t give him long: gets his hand on the back of his neck and pulls him in for another biting, devouring kiss, yanking him away from the wall in one sudden movement and turning him until the edge of the breakfast bar is pressed against his back, and he’s got a mouthful of Patrick’s tongue, and his elbow knocks against the fruit bowl as he tries to regain his balance, sending it flying, but he doesn’t care, because Patrick’s pulling his top off and over his head now, and he’s splaying his huge hands over the expanse of Noah’s ribs, and he’s looking at him like wants to consume him.
    He gets a moment to breathe, and then Patrick’s spinning him around and pushing him down over the breakfast bar, his bare chest pressing against tile, fingers gripping the edge of the surface like a lifeline.
    Patrick yanks his trousers and boxers around his thighs, completely unceremoniously, and then he drags his hand around Noah’s thigh to his front, cups his balls and then pulls up over his dick, fisting him and slicking his precome over the head as he leans down, a wall of heat over Noah’s back, presses an open-mouthed, wet kiss to the back of his neck.
    Noah can barely breathe with it, and he squeezes his eyes shut, drops his forehead to the tile, listens with his heart suspended in his throat as Patrick tugs open his own trousers, hand still working over Noah’s dick, and Noah says in a rush of urgency, “We need lube.”
    “We’re not stopping for lube,” Patrick growls, then he releases Noah’s dick, and he pulls away from Noah’s back, and the next thing he knows Patrick’s on his knees behind him, and there’s a tongue dragging over his hole.
    His whole body spasms at the contact, pleasure flooding him as Patrick works his tongue over his hole, slicks it up with saliva and pushes against the muscle, trying to gain entry. Noah moans, and he tries to ease all the tension in his body so Patrick can get inside, focuses on the tongue soaking his hole and the hands smoothing up his thighs and then suddenly, gloriously, Patrick pushes through the muscle and he’s inside, slicking him up, groaning against Noah’s hole and making it twitch against the overwhelming pleasure of it.
    He’s not had this done to him in so long he’s almost forgotten how incredible it feels, his nerves stimulated by wet, warm suction and slick, the relentless attack against the rim, Patrick’s hot breath and saliva coating him, covering him, making him whine and moan and roll his hips back, trying to get more, deeper, even as Patrick assaults his hole like he can’t get enough, never wants to stop.
    He does it until Noah’s whole body is melting around his tongue, until he’s boneless and trembling and moaning pitiful whines he can’t seem to contain, until sweat’s coating his skin and he’s seeing nothing but stars in his eyes and everything in the world has shrunk down and zeroed in on this one point of pleasure, of Patrick’s tongue slicking deep in his hole, groaning against him, building pleasure in Noah that’s shooting through his veins and settling in his gut and he needs more now, needs more of Patrick.
    “Please—” he breathes out, doesn’t know if Patrick heard him but he pulls his mouth away anyway, gets to his feet and trails his hand between Noah’s cheeks and presses one unyielding finger right through the muscle and deep into him.
    Noah jolts and cries out, pushes back against the pressure, searches around desperately when Patrick mutters, “My wallet,” at him, finds the wallet on the edge of the breakfast bar in front of him and opens it, digs around for the condom he knows