Page 30 of Dare to be Different

I tense and moan when a mouth sucks my cock. Licks and sucks and hands and touches, and then the mouth changes a few times, never really sucking me fully.

“Please,” I beg.

Then there are a whole bunch of hands on my body and one mouth on my dick. And this time, they aren’t fucking around.

I go wild. My hips thrust forward, but hands hold me back. I try to stop myself, letting this person suck me off with a mouth so fucking skilled I’m damn near ready to blow up.

“Holy fuck. Yes!” I’m going wild, losing my mind, and barely holding onto sanity. My mouth opens, my body sags, and whoever is touching me is holding me up.

The mouth pulls away for a second, making me complain, but then it’s back, and I swear to fuck this is the best head I’ve ever gotten.

“So. Fucking. Good.” I won’t last another minute like this.

Even though I’ve gotten used to so many subtle touches throughout the night, my attention is laser-focused on that mouth. Warm, wet, not afraid to use their tongue, and brave enough to take me all the way to the back of their throat. I can’t pinpoint who it is, but fuck me, I can’t even breathe through the pleasure of it.

My mind shifts to Remy, wondering where he is and what he’s doing. Is he getting his cock sucked, too? Is he fucking Cara while she sucks me off? Is he watching me?

“Remy?” I mean to ask, but it comes out sounding like a moan.

I’m shut up when the person sucking me off gains momentum, sucking me so hard and so deep they feel desperate for my cum. I hear the start of a gag, and then hands are slapped over my ears.

“Let me hear,” I beg.

The hands remain.

A tongue licks my slit before the mouth swallows me again. “Fuuuuck. I’m going to come.”

They don’t stop. If anything, they work me over with purpose. I’m barrelling towards the ledge of a cliff, and I don’t even care if the fall kills me.

When I come, my whole body gives out, and only the hands on my body and the restraints on my wrists keep me upright.

“Mmmmm,” I moan through it, my cock throbbing, unleashing, filling this random mouth with the evidence of my prolonged pleasure. “So. Fucking. Good.” I suck in a harsh breath, and then the mouth is gone.

I sag. That was the best blowie of my goddamn life. Holy shit.

Back at home and trying to enjoy a fantasy about that blindfolded blowie, Kade pounds on the bathroom door. “Zahn! Hurry up! I have to get to work.”

Ugh. Fuck you, Kade. I turn the water off without finishing, wrap a towel around my hips, and open the door because he won’t stop banging on it.

“Relax, asshole,” I scoff at him because he’s an impatient, blunt prick.

He walks right by me, dropping the towel to reveal a body that is gaining tattoos and muscles by the day. He turns on the water and then spins to face me, the glint of the metal through the tip of his dick drawing my eye. Still regret not getting that. Also regret not training with Jed more. My god, it’s really paying off for the youngest Dare, and I hate to think of him as more of a badass than me. What a dick.

“Jerk off on your own time,” he snaps at me. “Selfish prick.” He gets into the shower.

“This is my own time.” I wipe the mirror and towel dry my hair.

“You coming to Jed’s fight tonight?” he asks.

“Yeah, I’ll be back in time. See ya there.” I leave the door open on my way out, letting out the steam and warmth as punishment for him ruining my fantasy.

I don’t even get time to fondle myself before I’m heading out the door to meet Remy at the docks. Airfields and loading docks are my life, but doing it all with Remy is what makes it worth it. I don’t mind the atmosphere, and I like the mentality of other pilots and airfield workers. I mesh with the grunt workers of life, and I’m more than okay with that. I might fly the plane, but it’s a shitty little bush-whacker, and I’ll take it any day over a 747.

It takes us an hour or so to get the first two planes loaded, and with routes and instructions handed over, we send off the two hired pilots. The seaplanes are next, and we’ll be flying these ones today. Luckily, I’ve only got a short run, and so does Remy, which means we’ll both be back in time for Jed’s fight down at the warehouse tonight.

“We’re going to be stuck on St. Matthew for a few, eh?” Remy reminds me like there’s a chance I forgot.

We do the St. Matthew’s run every three months. It’s a remote island in the Bering Sea, and we drop off all the necessities to get them through the three months until we go back. We’ll be stuck there for two nights, like we usually are, waiting on cargo for the return trip. Honestly, we could probably leave a day later, but weather patterns are always unpredictable, and it pays better to be early than late. One time, we got stuck there for a fucking week. Not gonna lie, it was boring as fuck, but it was also one of the best bonding weeks of my life. Remote and alone with Rem in a nice bunker wasn’t so bad. Life slowed down for a bit there, and I think we both needed it.

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