Page 23 of Cade

Good boy.

The memory of the prior night danced with that of the earlier afternoon, when Mitchell had tormentingly posed us together for a picture I still wasn’t entirely sure was for the paper, but a part of me appreciated the gesture, nonetheless, even if at the time I’d felt wary.

The memory of the heat from Weston’s breath on my skin caused my blood to rush through my veins, and his whispered words incited a desire deep within me that no one else had ever been truly capable of igniting.

I wanted to be good for a man, but no man had ever seen me as good enough.

Not until...

I leaned my head back, hitting the back of my couch as my cock throbbed from the memory.

Fucking hell.

I sighed, knowing there was no use.

So instead of combating my cock, which had a mind of its own, instead, I slid my hand beneath the waistband of my pants, fully intending to adjust my erection for the moment so I could finish my damn ice cream, but the touch did nothing to soothe me. In fact, it only made the need to come that much worse.

I groaned in annoyance, my voice tinged with desperation as I focused my gaze on the ceiling.

I knew I should forget Weston Rhodes, Hottie-Mc-Hot-Suit, the man of my damn rom-com dreams. But in the privacy of my own home, I could submit to the meddlesome desire, the fantasies that shamelessly plagued me.

So I gave in.

I popped the button on my jeans, unzipping my pants if only to let my strained cock breathe. I breathed a sigh of relief as my solid cock sprung forth like a damn spring, thick and wanting, already pebbling with moisture as I let my eyelids fall shut. I licked my lips as I let Weston’s smooth voice reverberate in my brain.

“Good boy.”

I wrapped my hand around my sensitive head, spreading some of my moisture along my engorged shaft, letting the rest of the memories out of their cage.

“You took my cock so good in your mouth,” the words echoed like a canyon as I gripped my shaft, pulling and tugging slowly, building a rhythm.

I continued to let my thoughts wander down the dark pathway of memory, remembering just how Weston’s thick, solid cock felt as it hit the back of my throat, causing me to gag.

None of the men I had ever been with had ever made me gag.

I’d panicked only slightly at first, at the feeling of losing my breath, but when I looked up to see Weston and his dreamy eyes full of lust and pleasure, I couldn’t deny the sight was most appealing.

And so I hollowed my cheeks, and slid my mouth over Weston’s cock until my eyes watered and the feeling of choking prevailed, reveling in the rush of his sweet release as he gripped my hair, fists tightening as he spilled himself down my throat. And like the needy man I was, I swallowed every drop, relishing in the sound of his moans and groans.

My breath caught in my throat as the thoughts fueled me and my impending release.

“Such a good boy.”

The memory of Weston’s whispers on my skin from this afternoon meshed with the memory of his wet and warm tongue, laving at my tight entrance, licking, nibbling at my sensitive skin, bathing me in warm saliva.

I thrust my swollen cock into my hand, some desperate liquid escaping, coating my shaft and hand. I didn’t waste a drop, taking the warm wetness, slathering it over my tip and shaft like sticky, warm lube, my hand and hips picking up a rhythm as I chased my orgasm through the clouds and haze of memory. My thrusts came harder, my hips moving faster as my breathing intensified, as I thrust my cock desperately against my warm, wet palm.

“Come for me, Cade.”

I pumped my cock, feeling the release nearly instantly as I remembered just how Weston had ordered me to come, and how I had obeyed, almost as if my body understood far better than my brain did, that I would do anything for this man. I would do whatever he asked.

I had been so good.

Wet, thick ropes of warm cum sprayed onto my exposed abdomen, some sliding down over my hands as I fought to control the amount or the trajectory of my release and catch my breath. I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling with a mixture of remorse, regret, and desire that left me both sated and hungrier than I’d ever been before.

The movie credits rolled on the television, and I basked in its artificial glow, exhaustion overcoming me with finality.

CHAPTER 15

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