Page 97 of Wrath

“This is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” I confess.

“Hard same.”

We both laugh at that. I pull off my shirt and clean us up as he leans his head back on the couch and closes his eyes.

When I’m finished wiping our jizz up, I trace a hand over his six-pack.

“Perfect angel,” I whisper.

“You.” He grips my hip with his damp hand, moving backward to the curve of my ass. “Fuck.” He grits his teeth, looking like he’s in pain.

“You okay?”

Ezra laughs, dragging his eyes open. “This is fucking nuts. When I’m with you, I come like—”

“Like what?” I whisper, grinning.

“It’s like a drug. Like my dick’s fucking pumped on something. Even now” —he reaches down to palm himself—“I bet I could get off again. Like, five minutes.”

He runs his hand over my abs just above my cock.

“I want to suck you again,” he says. “All the time.” He sounds so enthusiastic, even as he looks fucking exhausted. It makes me laugh.

“I’m surprised to hear this.”

“I know,” Ezra whisper-moans. His eyes shut. “Cause I’m a fucking asshole liar.” He looks up at me again, not speaking for a moment. “You’re the only one I could have done this for. With,” he murmurs.

He wraps his arm around my shoulders, hooks his leg over mine. “Dude, just looking at you makes me wanna come.” He kisses my hair. “Even how you fucking smell. It gets into me.” His words are soft moans. “I knew…”

“What did you know, angel?”

“I knew that when I let you touch me— If I tasted you—”

He sounds breathless as his hand delves between us. “Look.” I look down. He’s clutching a full-on boner. “I could go again,” he whispers.

“Feel me,” I laugh.

I got wood again a second ago, when his lips tickled my hair.

“Jesus. Let’s go upstairs. I’ve got another idea, but I think we need a bed.”

Up in my room, Ezra shows me side-lying sixty-nine. When he’s sucking my dick, he pushes a finger into me, and it’s mind-bendingly amazing. We come at almost the same time, both swallowing, and I feel weak and dizzy and incredible when I lift my head.

“How ya feel?” he whispers, looking tired but sleepy.

“Amazing,” I manage. “You?”

“Too good,” he murmurs.

I shift so we’re facing one another. So I can look into his eyes and push his hair back offhis forehead.

“There’s no such thing as too good, Ezra.” On a whim, I wrap an arm around him, pulling him against my chest.

“Only with you,” he whispers, with a heavy-lidded smile. He looks happy. He looks sated. He looks like mine—for just the smallest moment.

Then his body gives a little twitch, and he’s asleep.

Thirteen

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