Page 42 of A Little More Hope

Ash didn’t let up as I shot load after load. He kept swallowing me down, but I hadn’t ejaculated in so long he couldn’t keep up and thick white cum spilled out of his mouth covering my cock, slipping down into my pubic hair and over my balls.

After a lifetime of milking me dry, he released me, and I slumped on the bed, staring at the ceiling, head spinning at the best damn climax of my life.

“Holy fuck,” I said, mirroring him. They were the only words I could muster as Ash moved languidly, crawling up my body, filling my vision, an extremely smug and satisfied expression covering his face, my cum smeared on his lips and chin.

“Kiss me,” I demanded. His eyes widened for a second, his pupils dilating to the maximum. Lowering his head, he stopped, not making contact, unsure I really wanted to kiss him after what he’d done. Sliding my hand around the back of his neck I tugged gently. He sighed, and our lips connected, our tongues tangling.

He tasted of pure sex and cum and was absolutely intoxicating.

I sucked my salty essence from inside his mouth, tasting myself for the first time, disappointed to swallow my own cum and not Ash’s. Remembering contemplating about this the other day only cemented my thinking of him coming in my mouth and me swallowing him down. The act not the slightest bit unappealing; in fact my mouth watered at the prospect.

“I’ll get us a towel to clean us up,” he said, and after another kiss that left me dizzy, we parted, and he climbed off me. A couple of minutes later, he returned and carefully cleaned away the remnants of his release from my belly and his own. When he’d finished he dropped the towel on the floor, but he didn’t join me on the bed; instead, hovering uncertainly. Looking up, I caught him worrying at his lower lip, nerves clear on his face as he worked out what he should do next.

“Come here,” I ordered gruffly holding out my arms. Relieved, he lowered himself on top of me, his body covering mine, the weight heavier than I was used to but comfortable, nonetheless. Snuggling against me, he settled himself in, shifting to the side, his leg stretching over my thigh, arm wrapped around my waist, head on my shoulder.

Pulling the sheets from the empty side of the bed, I covered us both, not wanting to move. A noticeable twinge of guilt at sullying Gabe’s bedroom ran through my mind, but I’d make sure to launder the sheets tomorrow morning, so he’d never know. My arm slid around Ash as I pulled him in, guilt vanishing in an instant at the utter rightness of having him exactly where I wanted him.

Dropping a kiss on his head, I closed my eyes and drifted off, warm and comfy and more content than I ever remembered being.

Chapter Fourteen

Ash

The tortured scream forced me wide awake in a second, scrambling to sit up, struggling to identify my surroundings, the adrenalin pumping around my body like I’d run a marathon.

“No! Please!” Mason’s cry had me twisting around to see him thrashing about in the bed, the sheets tangling around his body were soaking wet, his hand clutching at the side of his head, legs churning as if trying to escape from something. Sweat drenched his body and his face, clearly visible in the early morning sunlight, contorted in fear and pain.

Recognizing his nightmare must be about the attack, I went to touch him, rouse him from his slumber, but stopped at the last minute, reticent to follow through on my action. Should I wake him or not? What if I did the wrong thing and he got hurt?

His arm lashed out and smacked me squarely in the jaw, knocking me backward, making me dizzy. If I didn’t help him soon, he’d likely do himself more damage than I ever would if he carried on.

“Mason,” I uttered, not overly loud in case I scared him even more. Placing my hand on his upper arm, I shook him gently. His lightning-fast reaction caught me unawares. Grabbing my hand and yanking it away from him he punched me hard in the chest with his free hand, the blow winding me and sending pain shooting through my ribs.

“Mason,” I shouted louder this time, wrenching free of his hold and clambering off the bed to stand over him, in a better position to brace for his next attack.

“Get off me!” he screamed desperately.

“What the fuck?” an unfamiliar male voice bellowed from the doorway, shocking me, freezing me where I stood. “Get away from him, you fucker.” Faster than I could move, the guy charged at me, his body slamming into mine after landing a punch to my kidneys. The excruciating pain ricocheted through my body, crumpling me to a heap at his feet.

The guy grabbed my shoulders and unceremoniously threw me to the side, giving him access to the bed. He straddled Mason and tried to wrap his hands around Mason’s flailing wrists.

Dragging myself off my knees, I staggered to my feet and lunged at the guy with all I had. “Leave him alone,” I screamed. The guy spun with the speed of a panther to grab my hands, but his reaction wasn’t enough to prevent my forward momentum, and we both went tumbling off the bed onto the floor.

Though smaller than me, his strength was unreal. In seconds, he had me on my back, one hand around my throat, the other arm raised to deliver a lethal punch to my face.

“Gabe! Stop!” Mason yelled, and we both froze, suspended in action. “Don’t hit him. Don’t fucking hit him.”

The guy’s eyes—Gabe’s eyes—stayed fixed on Mason for the longest time, his grip on my neck unrelenting. I struggled, both my hands trying frantically to pry his iron fingers from their death grip around my throat. I fought for oxygen, panic rising as the need to breathe overrode all else. Gabe turned his gaze on me, a murderous look in the depths of his fierce green eyes. He released his hand from around my throat, and I gasped at the sudden influx of air.

“Don’t fucking move,” he ground out as he got to his feet. He needn’t have worried. There was no chance of me going anywhere anytime soon.

“Shit, Gabe,” Mason berated. “You better not have hurt him.”

“Hurt him? He’s lucky I didn’t fucking kill him for what he was doing to you.”

I tried to protest, but my throat hurt too much to speak, and I managed no more than a whispered, “I didn’t do anything.”

“You were standing over him as he screamed for you to get the fuck off him, asshole.”

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