Page 45 of Rough

“Okay,” I gasped urgently, but he was right, I was desperate to come.

He spread my legs apart, ravaging my hole with his enormous cock. I took all his girth. He filled me up, emotionally and physically. The stimulation was almost overwhelming. Garret gripped my wrists with one arm, while he continued to cuff his other hand around my cock.

“Get ready,” he warned.

He was close. He was going to explode inside me any second. I knew it was coming. I couldn’t hold on any longer, either.

He wailed with ecstasy as he came. I felt the flood of his hot come entering me. As he spilled himself inside me, I finally let myself go. I arched my back and cried out with glorious passion. It was one of the most intimate moments of my life.

My hot come splashed onto my belly. I lay there, feeling limp as a noodle and panting hard. Garret gently lifted my blindfold. When I looked into his eyes, I saw all the emotions that Garret had but was afraid to show me.

He had a gift, the ability to close himself off to fear. I admired him, but at this precise moment, he was vulnerable, and he allowed it to show. Even if it was for a fleeting second, I gained pleasure from seeing him finally let down his guard.

Then, as quickly as the expression had come, it faded away like a fog in the night. Mischief brightened Garret’s features.

“I want you to watch as I lick your come off your stomach,” he said.

I nodded, instantly aroused again. My cock was numb and relaxed, but I felt it as Garret began to touch me.

He held eye contact with me the entire time. He slowly licked off all the come from my stomach, giving me a sexy grin the entire time. Garret was fierce. I whimpered with ecstasy as his tongue slid and rolled over my skin. He sucked up every single drop of my come, swallowing it down and making sure to not leave a single trace behind.

Afterward, Garret took tender care of me, cleaning me up. We took a shower together, getting all the sticky mess off each other. Garret washed my body sensually and gently, scrubbing me down from head to toe as he gazed into my eyes like I was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

He was so difficult to figure out. I decided that maybe he wasn’t meant for me to figure out. Maybe part of the allure was the mystery between us. If I was meant to know something, he would tell me, and vice versa.

At that moment, watching the steam from our shower fog the mirror until we could no longer see our reflections staring back at us, I knew I was right where I was supposed to be. I didn’t need to ask any questions. Everything I needed was in the touch Garret gave me as he intertwined his fingers with mine, standing together naked in the center of his bathroom.

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I woke up in Garret’s bed late in the night, awakened by a strange orange glow illuminating the outside. It was peculiar enough to pull me out of bed because it was so far off from what early morning light looked like.

I slowly wandered over to the window and drew up the blinds, careful not to wake up Garret in the process. He was still asleep, naked, lying on his stomach with his head turned away from me. His backside was fantastic. I found myself staring in awe for several seconds before setting my sights back on the view from outside the window.

I looked outside and screamed. So much for not waking Garret.

He shot out of bed like a cannonball. “What’s wrong?’ His eyes were full of fright, alarmed and wide. His hair was tousled atop his head.

I couldn’t speak. I was too shocked. With a shaking finger, I pointed out the window, stunned and otherwise frozen in place.

Garret joined me at the window. He gasped and clamped his hand over his face. The Greasy Spoon, a restaurant owned by a man named Saul, was on fire across the street. It was ablaze, completely engulfed in flames. Dancing flashes of vibrant red and orange licked at the sky. Enormous plumes of gray and black smoke poured out of the building’s windows and from the top.

“Where the hell is the fire department?” Garret shrieked with panic.

I swallowed hard. “I don’t know…”

It was early. It was possible no one had called in the fire yet. I hastily jogged to the bedside table and plucked my phone from the surface, frantically dialing 9-1-1.

I stayed on the line with the operator until the fire department showed up, but it seemed like it took them an eternity to arrive. Maybe it was because we were already on edge. By then, we had gone outside and were standing on the other side of the sidewalk with some bleary-eyed, groggy people who lived in the vicinity, watching the ordeal unfold.

By the time the firefighters arrived on scene, the building was nothing but an empty shell, a crater where the structure used to be, with only the bones of the internal beams left standing. The inside of the building was nothing now but burnt soot and ash, a stain of what used to be there.

Garret was livid, pacing around with his fists balled in anger. His lips were twisted, his features contorted with frustration as he pounded feet to pavement, approaching the firemen with an accusatory glare set on his face.

“What the hell took you so long? The building is destroyed! Something that could have been avoided if you hadn’t taken your sweet time,” Garret roared at them, the veins in his neck bulging.

“Slow your roll man,” one of the firefighters said. “Two of our trucks had flat tires. We didn’t realize it until the call came through.”

“Yeah and we had to replace the alternator from another truck with full tires that we couldn’t fix with the alternator in this truck because it had given out completely,” another firefighter explained.

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