Page 134 of Shadows in Bloom

My throat goes dry when he wraps his hand around the hard length and strokes it in slow, sensual glides before reaching for his ball sack and massaging it in his big palm. “I’d love to watch you suck on my balls, Professor Kirk.”

“My name is Marshall…” My shaky voice coaxes his smirk back out to play. “I’m begging you…”

“What are you begging for?”

I watch, mesmerized, as he tweaks his balls, rolling them between his long fingers while his other hand slides up the veiny length to slowly milk a bead of precum from the tip. My own dick aches in my pants, and I squirm as I watch him fuck his hand. The urge to lean in to taste him strikes me out of nowhere.

I don’t understand the energy pulsing between us. The toxicity. I’ve never felt drawn to men before, never so much as looked at one, yet he hooks me with that wicked glint in his eyes, making it impossible not to feel affected when he devours me with a single glance. Maybe it’s the forbidden nature of our dalliance. Never have I been the recipient of such pure desire until now. Cruz wants me. No, it’s more than that. More than simple lust. He wants to possess me.

Own me.

Feast on my ruin.

Climbing onto the couch and straddling me on his knees, he hovers over me. “Tell me to stop, Professor Kirk.” His balls brush up against my lips, and the shadows thicken around him as his eyes darken. “Tell me to leave.”

Please leave. Stay. Make true to the promise in your eyes.

“Tell me you don’t want to suck on my balls.”

My mouth opens as I gaze up at him, losing the battle between right and wrong.

“Wider,” he instructs, leaning in closer. The tangy, iron-rich scent intensifies and pulls me deeper into his mysterious depths.

I suck his balls into my mouth and fist my hands at my sides. If I touch him, it’s game over. I need to pretend I have an ounce of control, even if it’s nothing more than an illusion. My dick has never been harder than it is now as he strokes the crown of his cock. Except for the pleasant haze clouding my senses, my mind is empty. He rocks his hips and wets his lips. I’ve never witnessed a more erotic sight.

“That’s it,” he praises, gripping my hair with his fingers. “Suck hard, Professor.”

Marshall…

The thought drifts away across open waters before I can grasp it, like a swallow dipping sideways on a sea breeze. Sucking on his balls, I swirl my tongue, drawing appreciative sounds from his chest.

When my lashes flutter, he slips his balls from my mouth and presses the thick head to my lips, testing my resolve.

I have none.

My walls have crumpled, leaving me broken and bleeding in the wake of his destruction.

Whatever this is, I need more, addicted to the desire flowing through my veins. I always thought I was straight, that I knew myself and my cravings. As he feeds me the tip, I question if I ever did.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” His deep baritone caresses my senses. “Now suck, Professor. Swallow my dick.”

How did I get here? Seated on the couch with my student’s cock in my mouth? My best friend’s son.

“Fuck,” he curses, thrusting shallowly. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this moment? I just fucking knew”—thrust—“that I would win if I just bided my time”—thrust—“waiting on the sidelines for my turn.” Fisting my hair in a tight enough grip to make me wince, he smashes his crown against the back of my throat. “I always win, Marshall.”

I choke around his length, grappling with his jeans and fisting the fabric. Am I trying to push him away or pull him closer? Do I want more of the toxic yearning bleeding from his pores? He steals my choice as he throbs deep in my throat while I gag.

“I never lose.” His grip on my hair eases, playing with the strands. “You like it, don’t you? Choking on my cock.” Pulling out, he stares down at me.

A string of saliva stretches from his dick to my mouth. Even now, as we drown in each other’s brokenness, we’re still connected.

“Say it,” he whispers.

“I like it,” I admit.

Those devious lips curve to the side and he drags his fingers through the stubble on my cheek in a slow, sensuous glide. One I feel down to my toes. “I’m not letting you go, Marshall. Not now that I’ve had a taste of you.”

I stay silent, shivering beneath his touch. My cock has its own heartbeat, tenting my pants. If he puts his hand on me now, I’ll buck into him for more—all pretense of dignity gone. I’m weak and hopelessly high on him.

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