Page 72 of Obsessed with the Heartbreaker

“Your turn?” he asked, way too eager for having just had such a strong orgasm.

How could I refuse?

Taking my dick in hand, I gave myself one hard pump. “I won’t last.”

My voice was raw, gravelly, and it had an effect on Antony.

“Will you come on me?”

What?

I had to clutch my base so I wouldn’t come right that second. He was such a perfect mixture of shy and bold, the perfect concoction to drive me wild. After a moment, I started jerking myself off again, pushing myself higher on top of him.

“You want me to come on you, darling? Want me to mark you with my come?”

Antony nodded, lips parted, watching my every movement.

“Where do you want it?”

“My chest and…my mouth.”

Fuck. Was this a fantasy of his? Had he imagined me debauching him this way before? Because the sure way he said it sure made it look that way.

I’d have to ask, but right now, I was ready to burst.

Getting hold of his hair with one hand, I jerked myself savagely until the first ropes of come came out. I was almost blind with the strength of my climax, my balls tight, my body focused on one goal.

Trying my best, I pointed toward Antony’s chest, and before the last pump came out I pushed myself higher and his head lower toward his open, waiting mouth.

Antony moaned, looking a little overwhelmed with sensation, and hesitantly, he reached to the edge of his mouth, where some white had spilled, and pushed it in, sucking against his finger.

“There’s something else you can suck,” I said on a whim, and when I put the tip of my cock close to Antony’s lips, he slowly put his mouth around it, sucking it softly, getting a feel of it with his tongue.

This is it.

My funeral.

I can die happy now.

Only it wasn’t true.

Now I’d had a taste of Antony, I wanted more.

And as I kissed him again and he met me with the same fervor as before, I knew that this wasn’t going to stop anytime soon.

I was well and truly hooked.

Chapter 22

Antony

One clean-up and several hot kisses later, Henry and I finally got away from each other long enough to speak. At least rationally, of course, because the dirty talk that had dripped from Henry’s mouth was going to follow me home and into my dreams.

“You look debauched,” Henry said, running his hand through my hair, ruining it further, while brushing his thumb over my neck with his other one.

The way he was holding onto it had something so possessive and protective, sofond, that I didn’t dare move. I was soaking in all the attention Henry was giving me, reveling in all the new sensations he was provoking inside me, and it was taking me a gargantuan effort not to just kiss him again.

It would probably lead to another round of the most amazing sex of my life, and even if a part of me wanted it, the other was becoming aware again of all the frat guys roaming the exterior of the house.

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