Trained by My Teammate (My Dark Jock #3)

by Arden Long

“That's right,” he hisses in my ear and his fingers tangle in my hair, pulling my head back. “You're mine, any place, any time. And I'm going to remind you of that.”

He spits into his hands and then holds it under my mouth. I look at him, confused. “Spit,” he says. Thank fuck for that, for a moment there I thought he was going to make me lick it up. Which actually, oh no, is kinda hot.

The fact that I can't come, or even get hard, is so fucking hot. He's using me for his pleasure, taunting me with my inability to release, and I get nothing in return. I'm just a hole for him to use and tease. A walking fuck toy. His finger slides against my sweet spot and I whine and rut against him.

This, this is something else. And it's something I don't want. Something I can't have. This feels too intimate.

Can he feel how hard my pulse is racing? I don't want him to know he has the power to make me react like this with something as stupidly pathetic as a fucking kiss.

I'm almost past trying to figure him out, but every time he does something that confuses me, I'm drawn right back in again. He's like the world's most confusing, infuriatingly sexy puzzle.

“I didn’t tell you to suck me off. Keep still. I just want to keep my cock warm with your mouth.”

So what, he just wants me to kneel here with his dick sitting in my mouth? That's even more humiliating than having to suck him off like this–he isn't even using me for pleasure. My mouth is just some sort of glorified cock snug.