Wrath (Sinful Secrets, #4)

by Ella James

“Hey Ezra?”

“Miller?” he moans. “Yeah.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t be a homophobe now, angel face,”

don’t like you, okay? You’re not my type.”

closer. Then a little closer still, so he can feel me nearly brushing up against him. Fuck. My heart is beating so hard. I inhale quietly and move over just another half inch so my shoulder is touching his back—an anchor. I can feel how fast he’s breathing, and it makes my chest ache. “You go for the boys with G-strings and nice makeup?”

“I go for people who ...

“I’m staying in here for a while,” I tell him. “Make sure you don’t croak from that concussion.”

He’s relaxed now. He’s asleep now.

I’m in Ezra’s bed with him, and he’s sleeping beside me—for

He lets out a groan, and I roll over, wrapping one arm tight around him without time to second guess myself. ...

“You’re just having nightmares. Probably from the concussion.”

way. I can’t see his pants—wait, okay…now he shifted. Dude’s got on gray shorts. The sort of dressy kind. Not really dressy, but like Ralph Lauren type khakis, just in gray. The shirt is untucked, so he looks almost like a model in the middle of some photoshoot. He stretches a leg out, and I see low-rise, black Air Jordans on his feet. Fuck, even his leg is gorgeous.

“How’s it hanging, DG?”

“Cat got your tongue?” he asks. “No.”

I’m upright in bed, my heart racing as I blink around the dark room. What the— I hear moaning. Ezra. Fuck. A

“Hey, Ezra…” “Miller,” he moans.

Then his eyelids drop shut. His body jerks just like last night as he sinks back into dreamland.

shut. “DG.” I can smell the mouthwash on his warm breath.

“Need a little snuggle from your big bro?” he asks in a whisper-rasp.

His hand moving over my hip, his hand big and warm over the bulge in my briefs. Time stops. Narrows into nothing but the darkness and the weight of his hand cupping me. “You like this?”

slides his hand toward my cockhead, folded, half-hard, down on my balls. I can’t speak, can’t even get my breath as his hand wraps around me. “If I do this” —he strokes toward my base and then back downward, fingers squeezing the tip of my dick— “will it make you harder?”

“That’s right…”

His hand pumps up and down my shaft, stroking through cotton. “Would this make you come, if I kept going?”

He can’t really grip me good because of the fabric, but he tries. He gives me a few more strokes, and I can’t help groaning as pleasure swells all through my lower body. “You get off on a big, rough hand?”

“What is it you gay boys want?”

“So damn hard,” he whispers. His teeth nip my shoulder. “Would you get wet if I fuck with it long enough?”

Oh Jesus, I’m about to come. Ezra cups my balls and gives them a tug as he beats my meat so hard and fast that I do just that. I come in an earthquake of sensation, blowing all over myself with his long fingers wrapped around me.

“That was easy. Someone’s a hair trigger, huh?”

“You ever come from a dude’s hand around you?” he asks softly. “Mine,” I manage.

“Bet you like mine better.” Then he gives my ass a pinch and slaps it hard enough to sting through my briefs. “Get moving, DG. You’re welcome.”

Fucking fuck. I came in his hand! He jerked you off. My stepbrother played me like a fucking flute. There’s nothing wrong with it from your perspective. He did everything. I fucking came in Ezra’s hand. I come again into my own, inhaling steam in big gulps.

He looks happy. Then he sees me. His eyes widen for a split second. His features harden. Then his face is set to neutral, his lips pressed flat. His gaze sweeps down my body, slow and blatant. Then we’re passing by each other, arms swinging so close that I can feel the air shift in between us.

“To me,” he confirms. “Go fuck yourself?” “You’d like to watch.” “You’re gay,” I murmur softly. “You are.” Ezra arches one dark brow. “I’m not thanking you for dick,”

“I guess we’ll see about that.”

It’s been almost a whole day, but I still feel his thick erection under my palm. I can feel his coarse curls brush against my fingertips when I reached down to grab him by the balls. Those fucking balls, so warm and full and heavy, drawing up as I tugged on them. The way his cock was fucking ramrod hard as I toyed with it. When I rubbed my palm over the tip of him, the fabric of his boxer briefs felt damp. I jerked him off, and DG moaned and rocked his hips and panted like he’d just finished a marathon. Finally, he came—because I made him.

bet if I had put my mouth around him, I could’ve sucked and he would’ve blown right there, pouring hot cum down my throat like a fire hydrant that sprung a leak.

Right now, as I watch Mills in his bed, the thing starts coming alive in my boxers. I have to reach inside and wrap my hand around it. If I don't, my balls get achy and my brain gets fogged up.

I rub a fingertip over the tip of it, the way I did with DG. Most people don’t think much about the little slit that’s up there, but I learned the hard way that it’s sensitive as fuck.

knees tremble as I remember his head thrown back, his dark hair pressed against the base of my throat. I think of my hand, full of his cock. Rubbing at his cum-soaked briefs. My ears full of his moans, and how heavy he felt against me. Like an anchor.

I hold my balls for a while, letting my dick ache like it deserves. I could probably come without touching the thing. Coming off those meds has taken my dick back to seventh grade; today I got a semi from pissing—in the school bathroom.

I start to bounce my palm under my balls, breathing deeper as that makes my junk vibrate with good feels. Then I grip the base of my cock and squeeze as I watch DG. He’s so big and tall and solid that it’s sort of funny how young he looks curled up in his bed.

I swear I can see a bulge in his boxer briefs. I think of pulling those briefs down, running my fingers down his crack, parting his cheeks and feeling for his little soft, tight, puckered hole. I’m sure no one’s ever sought it out. He doesn’t seem like the type to push things into himself—although of course, I could be wrong. I’m gonna bet he’s never taken one of his big fingers, never felt the jolt of being filled with s...

Oh God. I shut my eyes and let go of my cock before...

If I played with his hole, I’d give him two fingers, not one. I’d get them both lubed good and push them in and draw right out, and get more lube. I’d do that a few times, try to slick him up. Then, when he’s ready, I would give him three fingers. I’d stretch him out and push in deep. I’d push in deep enough to find his prostate. When I did, I bet he’d really start to fucking leak—all over the place. I’m gripping my cockhead as DG’s hand goes to his dick and covers it. Oh Jesus.

I imagine that I'm pumping his cock,

kinda press down so he felt the pressure, so he’d start to want it more. I’d make him beg.

He’d be wanting me to push it into him and rub around, and push in more until his prostate got kissed by my cockhead. He’d be sagging on his shaking arms. Maybe he would rub his cock against the duvet. He would want it. He would want it. Oh, Christ. I catch the cum in my boxers, moaning as I step into the bathroom and just stand there for a second. Feeling deviant. Oh God, I am such a deviant fuck.

Miller's dick. My hand around it. And I'm getting hard again. I move onto the bed. I know I shouldn't—almost always, getting horizontal is something I really regret—but I want to get under the covers and jerk off one more time. It's been so long. I'm surprised by how my whole body feels good when it happens.