Page 29 of Explosive Prejudice

Captured behind the zipper, my cock was on the verge of exploding, and the lewd sounds coming from Llorón only made it harder to tame myself. But I had to. Despite my fist milking his sweet dick and how it made my whole body burn with an unfamiliar desire I craved to explore, I wasn’t about to fuck him. Why? Because this moment wasn’t about my pleasure but his. And pounding his sweet hole the way I ached for was too damn dangerous. The way he stirred my insides without even so much as trying was addicting, and he wasn’t an addiction I was willing to risk. Yet.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned.

“You like that, don’t you?” Biting my bottom lip, I smirked. “Fucking into my fist like a dirty little slut.”

“Y-yeah, God, yes.”

Pressing my lips to his neck, I slowly dragged them over his skin, feeling his pulse underneath my touch before biting him, breaking the skin and causing him to moan with pain.

“Look at you, so fucking wet for me,” I said, my lips brushing the fresh mark I left on his neck as I moved my hand over the crown of his cock, collecting his precum to use as lubricant.

Increasing my pace made his dick pulse and twitch, so I squeezed him harder, pulling out a throaty groan. He was close—I could feel it by the way he whimpered on my lap and throbbed in my hand.

“Such a needy little kitten, aren’t you, Llorón. Are you going to come for me? Make a mess?”

“God, yes,” he cried out as his hips jerked, and he came all over my fist and shirt. Watching him come on my lap, all sweaty and needy, was probably the hottest experience of my life, and I didn’t even come. Truthfully, at the moment, I couldn’t care less about my orgasm. All I wanted was to keep watching him submerged in pleasure, and that was what I did. Pushing him onto his back, I moved to lie above him, my eyes not leaving him for a second.

“Suck me clean,” I ordered as I brought my cum-soaked fingers to his lips. Parting them, he darted his tongue out and licked my digits before taking them into his mouth and doing precisely what I’d asked. Moaning, he closed those beautiful eyes of his and started to suck one finger at a time, swallowing his own load. Opening his eyes, he made sure I was looking at him as he worked his marvelous mouth around my thumb, probably knowing it was my cock I imagined he was sucking on. The fucking brat.

Once done, he opened his mouth and waited for me to pull out my thumb. I did, but not before stroking his tempting red lips on the way.

If only his mask wasn’t there, I would have seen all of him.

He then pushed his hips up, rubbing himself against my erection. “Are you going to fuck me now?” he purred, and although I wanted to say yes, I shook my head. Disappointment shone in his eyes, and he looked hurt. “Why?”

“Do you ride motorcycles?”

Going with the direction of my odd question, he shook his head.

“Fast cars?”

“Yeah.” The most innocent smile I’d ever seen pulled on his lips.

“So, do you know that moment when you’re flying down an open road, and you’re just dying to hit the gas, to cross that limit you know is dangerous just for the sake of the high?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“But you don’t do that.” A blond curl landed on his mask, so I pushed it away and tucked it behind his ear. “You don’t do that because of the fear of crashing.” My lips curved slightly, and I deepened our stare to stay longer in this intoxicating moment. “That’s you. You’re the high before the crash. Fucking you would be as thrilling as driving a race car off a cliff. Absolutely exceptional until you die.”

“But what if we die together?”

His words were… alarming but, even more so, appealing. Despite that, I shook my head.

Taking a deep breath, he shifted beneath me. “What makes you so sure I’m fatal?”

“It’s written in your eyes.” I rested my palm against his mask and watched how instinctively he leaned into the touch.

“What is?”

“Death.”

Shay-Lee

Three weeks had passed since Nero pulled me into his lap, jerked me off, and gave me the most intense orgasm of my fucking life. I’d attended the club many times since then and made sure to meet him on every one of those visits. Unfortunately, while I craved for him to touch me again, Nero refused to do anything sexual with me. In every one of our meetings, he kept his hands mostly to himself while we talked. And God, did we talk.

We talked for hours.

Conversations with him could be shallow, from what our favorite food was to him telling me about his family and me telling him about mine—at least, some parts about it.

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