Page 37 of Best Served Cold

“Never,” I said, barely aware that I’d answered as all my focus lasered in on what Zane was about to do.

This was insane. Neither of us was into guys, and I’d bet money that Zane was chasing the same high I was. Not only that, but we were completely exposed out here. We might be in the shadows, but they wouldn’t hide shit if someone came around the corner.

That should have terrified me, but it didn’t.

Was I an exhibitionist? Why did the idea that we could get caught at any moment turn me on even more? Did it turn Zane on too?

I lifted my eyes to his face to figure out where his head was at, but his attention was on my fly as he yanked the open ends apart.

“Fuck,” I hissed as he grabbed my shaft, squeezing hard and putting the perfect amount of pressure on my piercing.

The intensity on Zane’s face as he jerked the front of my boxers down sent another shiver of something through me. It wasn’t exactly pleasure or desire, more like pride, as his eyes met mine.

No one had ever looked at me like that, like I was the only thing in the world and their entire being was focused solely on me. Like we were the only two people on the planet. The roughness of his movements only amplified every sensation.

My hard dick bobbed free of the confines of my boxers and swung up, nearly slapping me in the stomach.

“Liar.” He closed his hand around my cock and looked up at me, his expression triumphant. “You’re not pierced.”

“You sure about that?” I bucked my hips, dragging my length through the circle of his hand.

His eyes grew wide as the barbell in my frenum piercing slid against his palm.

“Told ya.” I swallowed a gasp as he squeezed around my cockhead.

Shock, and then what could have been fear, overtook him.

I looked down, another rush of pride going through me at the bulge in his pants. “Looks like I’m not the only one who likes it.”

He let go of my dick with a low grunt and spun us so I was against the wall, the rough bricks biting into my back through my thin t-shirt.

“Doesn’t matter.” He grabbed my dick and stroked it, his grip hard and his pace unhurried. “You already lost.”

“Did I?” I croaked. “We never set the terms.”

“I should leave you hanging,” he said in a low murmur that tightened my balls. “Get you nice and close, but not let you get off. I bet you’d beg me to finish you. Now that would be the ultimate win. You begging me to make you come.”

“You wish.”

“Or do you wish?” He slicked his tongue over my bottom lip. “I might be hard, but there’s no way in hell you could get me off.”

“That sounds like a challenge.”

“Just a fact.” He sped up his strokes, his grip right on the border between too tight and just right. “What do you say, Noah? Are you gonna come for me?”

I started to tell him to fuck off, but he caught my lower lip between his teeth and bit hard. The flash of pain sent a bolt of white-hot desire through me. My dick throbbed in his hand and precum spilled out from my slit. An embarrassingly loud moan escaped my lips.

“You’re such a pain slut.” He chuckled darkly, his hot breath fanning over my face.

“You just figured that out?” I let my head fall back against the wall. He was still stroking me with that almost, almost too-hard grip, focusing his efforts at the head and working my piercing exactly the way I liked.

Zane chased my mouth and kissed me hard and deep, toying with my tongue stud and biting at my lips.

It was all too much, and not enough. Everything about him was overwhelming. My brain went quiet as I thought only of Zane and what he was doing to me.

His scent, earthy and spicy with an undertone of musk, surrounded me as he crowded me against the wall, owning my mouth.

Gathering up the last of my mental faculties, I shoved my hands between us.

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