I let out a sound somewhere between a whine and a sigh.
“Holy fuck,” I say, my voice wavering as I reach a hand over to grip my dick.
He bats my hand away instantly, then grabs it and brings it up to his lips instead. He brings two of my fingers in his mouth, sucking on them now, and I actually start to feel weak in the knees from it. The sensation is far too close to mimicking his mouth on my cock.
“You are so fucking good for me,” he says in a low tone.
He puts one hand on my cock, giving it a slow, firm squeeze at the base, only relieving a tenth of the ache I feel.
And then he removes his touch again.
And I miss it instantly.
I close the gap between us and catch his mouth in a kiss because I’m desperate for anything at this point, and his tongue slides on mine.
I could stay here in the shower with him for the rest of the fucking year, letting him taunt me and torture me, edging me until I spill out for him without even a touch.
“I’m yours,” I say.
It feels too real when I say it.
I’m echoing what he told me after our run, but now, it seems real in a very different way.
I’m not saying it because he has me in some fucked-up lust trance right now.
It feels more like an undeniablefact, and I’ve forgotten every sensible reason why I shouldn’t give myself to him.
Do the bad thing.
I start to lower my body downward in front of him, guided by his hand.
Give him everything.
My knees hit the shower mat below, and his cock is level with my face now, hard and waiting and probably aching every bit as much as my own.
He pushes into my mouth and I feel like I can practically hear him thinkinggood boy.
I love being good for him.
I love feeling his hand grip the back of my head, carding through my hair and easing me onto every inch of his dick, knowing that he gives me more of him than he’s ever given to another man.
Tell me I’m good.
Tell me you love this, too?
“Why can’t I stop thinking about you, Weston?” he utters.
I glance up at him from the floor to see that same fire in his eyes, like his gaze is electric.
I swirl my tongue along the ridge of his cock head and then plunge low again, taking him deep in a way that makes him buck his hips into me.
“Why…” he whispers again a moment later, pausing for a breath. “Whydoes everything with you feel so much better than it has with anyone else?”
Those words course through me like they’re the highest praise I’ve ever gotten.
God, I am absolutely fucking sick for you.
I can’t stop looking up at him as I take him in my mouth. I need his eye contact in the same way I’m becoming a total slut for his approval, and the way his lips part slightly when I take him deep makes it obvious that I’m bringing him close to the brink.