Page 52 of Ricochet

Even with them, he’s fucking beautiful.

Precum drips onto my stomach. Stone leans over and licks it up.

I groan and thrust my hips up like I can get my dick back into his mouth.

He chuckles as he puts his hands on my thighs, forcing my legs open wider so he can crawl onto the bed between them. He still has his jeans on, and he leans back on his heels to undo them.

The moment he frees his hard cock and takes it in his hand, my brain decides to come back online. I freeze, my body going rigid, my muscles taut.

“Callum?”

My gaze snaps to his, my breaths choppy, cutting through me in a turbulent rhythm. But whatever panic was about to come over me crawls back into its hole the instant I’m looking into his eyes. Falling into the fog. Once again getting lost in the forest.

All my tension fades.

“I’m good.”

His other hand takes hold of my dick again, giving it a few strokes. “Yes, you are. You’re so fucking good. You taste good. You feel good. But I’m going to make you feel even better.”

With both our dicks in his hands, he lines them up, wrapping his fingers around us. We’re about the same size, both cut, but he might be just a little bigger. The head of his cock is at least. As are the bulging veins running along the side of his thick shaft.

My head falls back onto the bed, and I whimper at the feel of him pressed against me.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes,” I barely manage to mumble. “Fuck yes.”

He starts to stroke us together, both our hips thrusting to match the tempo of his hands. The room fills with the sounds of our breaths and moans and Stone’s grunts as he picks up the pace.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Your cock feels so good against mine.”

That pressure from before builds back up, my balls heavy. My hands are in fists, gripping the sheets at my sides. Clawing. As though I’m physically climbing toward a peak.

Before I can reach it, his hands are gone.

Fuck!

I’m gonna fucking kill him.

Before I can lash out, he’s grabbing both of my wrists in his hands. As he raises them above my head, pinning them to the mattress, he falls on top of me. His hips move again, rocking back and forth, his cock rutting against mine. He buries his face in the crook of my neck and shoulder, panting, his warm breath soaking into my pores.

And just like that, I’m climbing again.

Higher than before.

“Fuck,” I moan. “Stone. Gonna come.”

“Come for me, Callum.”

He bites down. Not hard, but enough for me to feel the indent of his teeth.

I don’t know if it’s his teeth, his breath against my neck, or the slide of his cock against mine, but I come harder than I ever have before. My release spills out between our bodies that are slick with sweat, so much I think the orgasm might never end.

When it does, I collapse, utterly boneless.

Only a few seconds later, Stone goes still, warm jets of cum joining my own.

I can feel his legs trembling, but he doesn’t let himself crash, keeping the full weight of his body from crushing me.

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