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As if it’s nothing. As if it’s perfectly legal to have an ass like that. As if it’s not in the least bit problematic to be standing in the middle of a room, cavalier as you fucking please, with a jock strap cutting fine lines into your flesh.
“You fuck!” I hiss. “You bit me! What’s wrong with you? What the hell did you do that for?” He exhales and his shoulders drop. “’Cause,” he says with regret, “I’m going to kiss you, and”—he takes my head in both hands and holds me firmly in place as he closes the space between us—“I want it to hurt you as much as it’s going to hurt me.”
I let my bottom jaw drop open and wait like that, on my knees, hands on my thighs, palms flat, until Decker wraps his hand around the back of my neck and guides my head down to his dick. He holds himself firmly as he feeds me his cock. I take it into my mouth gratefully without thinking. I don’t need to. He controls every moment. His. Mine. Nothing happens without his express direction. I don’t blink or swallow. All I do is stay open and lap at his cock every time he lets me come into the slightest contact with it.
“Look at you.” It’s softer this time. Raspy and raw. “So pretty with my dick in your mouth.” He gently strokes my hair again and smiles darkly. “A dick in your mouth and not a thought in your head.”
Not to sock shame anyone, but if you insist on walking around hotel rooms in nothing but boxer briefs and the sluttiest socks known to man, this is the kind of shit that happens.
“Decker.” He said it softly, as though that made it better. As though that made it less real. Less scary. “Tell me I’m pretty.” I lost it. I fucking lost it.
“Boys like you…” I threaten. And credit where credit’s due because even I have to admit, I don’t sound all that different from McGuire’s primitive impersonation of me. “…find themselves stripped naked. That’s what happens to them.” I poke at his temple with my forefinger a couple of times to drive my point home. “They find themselves bent over. Folded in half and held down…” I pant in his ear and rub my face against his cheek, biting him again and licking his cheek this time as well. “…with a big dick rammed up their ass.”
Sweet Jesus, he’s pretty when he’s not talking.
“Promise?” he says softly. With that, he slides his jock down over his hips, letting it drop to the floor. He steps out of it, turns around, and heads to the shower nonchalant as you fucking please.
use to fill me. “I need it.” “Relax, Princess.” There’s a smile in his voice. A dark smile buried under a threat. “I know what you need, and I’m gonna give it to you.” He leans in and kisses my cheek, scraping my skin with coarse hair and teeth. “Imma make you into the perfect pussy boy you were born to be.”
“Shh,” he threatens, moving the hand that was around my chest up to my mouth and cupping it tightly. “Quiet, baby. You don’t want people to know what I’m doing to you, do you?”
“Show me,” he croons, taking my cheek in his hand and spreading me open. “Show me that pretty pussy I drilled into you.” I whimper from under the pillow, struggling to stop my hips from writhing at his words. “Come on, Princess, do it. Push out and show me what I dumped inside you.”
What is it with this guy? Did he miss an entire chapter of the How to Behave guidebook?
“Feels like I have a big hole in my chest. Like there was something there before, keeping me together, that isn’t there now. I feel…undone. Like my heart is open.” With that, he throws an arm around me and burrows his face into the space between my neck and shoulder. “Will that go back to normal too?”
“Right now, I’m going to have a leisurely tug and you,”—he points a no-nonsense forefinger directly at my face so I’m left in no doubt whatsoever who he’s talking to—“you’re going to eat my ass.” And like that, I’m gone. Gone.
It seems to like men who don’t have a clue what they’re doing but still somehow manage to be demanding as hell. I keep a firm grip on McGuire and spread my hands. His hole whirls into view. A pretty puckered star. A tight virgin hole I fucked open last night.
Look, if you have any idea how to message someone and ask for nudes without sounding creepy, hit me up. Just go right ahead and let me know. Tell me what to say, and I’ll do it because I’ve got nothing. Nada.
My stupid belly erupts in a flutter of its own. They’re not my butterflies, okay? They’re his. I’m having sympathetic butterflies, for fuck’s sake.
If he needs to sit on something that badly, he can sit on my fucking face.
“I want you to fuck me, Ant,” he whines. “I need it. Like last time, please.” “Oh, baby, I am going to fuck you. I’m going to fuck you in both ends. I’m going to put a nut in your throat and another one in your belly. But this one”—I stroke my dick calmly—“this one is going to be quick, so it’s going here.” His nose flares and he nods his consent. “Open your mouth,” I say, and he does. “Are you going to be a good girl?” He nods again, but this time he does it with my cock thrust deep in his throat. “You’re going to swallow everything I give you, right?”
He looks between my legs and smiles. “Aw, look at that little pussy. So pink and pretty. So tight. I’m going to have to stretch it out real nice just to get my head in, aren’t I?”
I don’t just want his body. I want him. I want the sound of his voice. The smell of his neck. I want the way he looked at me in the restaurant and in the car. I want the way he clenches his jaw when he’s pissed at me, and I want the way he smiles at me when he doesn’t know I’m watching him. I want all that, but in the meantime, I’ll take the deep strokes he’s giving me and the soft, tacky slap of two bodies slamming together.
I like Ant Decker. I like him like crazy. I like him in a big, scary way that I know in my bones is a big deal. A big thing. The next big thing in my life.
It’s dark now. Night has drawn in, and I’m in my living room, trying not to think about hearts drawn on glass and words whispered in the dark.
“I know I’m in love with you, Ant. I know it, like really know it.” He sighs gently. He looks intensely vulnerable, heart open and exposed, beating in his chest cavity with no protection, but he doesn’t look weak. He’s laid bare, but unlike me, he accepted his condition a while back, and instead of thinking of it as a weakness, he sees it as a strength. “But also, I know this time it’s different. It’s unlike the other times I fell in love because this time…” He kisses me again, softer. Deeper. “This time, it’s the last time. The last time I’ll ever fall in love. It’s you and me, baby, from now
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“I love you too, Princess. I tried not to fall for you. I really did. But I couldn’t help it.”
