Dare

Cort Donovan's gaze locked onto Noah Driver's, the air thick with unspoken hunger. Cort's fingers traced the firm line of Noah's jaw, tilting his head just so. Their lips met in a slow, searing kiss, tongues dancing with deliberate fire. Noah's hands roamed Cort's broad back, pulling him closer, their bodies aligning like puzzle pieces forged in heat. Cort broke away, breath ragged, and dropped to his knees. He unzipped Noah's jeans with steady hands, freeing the hard length that sprang forth, pulsing with need. Noah groaned as Cort's mouth enveloped him—wet, warm, insistent—sucking with a rhythm that built like a gathering storm. Fingers tangled in Cort's hair, guiding without force, as pleasure coiled tight in Noah's core. Cort's tongue swirled around the tip, tasting salt and desire, before taking him deeper, throat relaxing to accommodate every inch. Noah's hips bucked, chasing the edge, until release crashed over him in shuddering waves, spilling into Cort's eager mouth.