Page 61 of The Puck Chase

My already half-hard cock pulses to life at his words, my fingers itching to collar his throat and throw him to his damn knees, as I breathe, “Since the moment I first met your stare.”

That damned smile, looking so fucking smug yet sweet, darts across his mouth, as he grins, “Then what are you waiting for, Forbes? Fuck me.”

My words are bold, my heart racing, as I wait for his response, and I see the way his eyes darken with lust. The secrets and pain are not forgotten, but pushed aside for just a moment. My mind is still reeling from what he revealed, and there was so much more I wanted to ask, to know, but I know it will take time, and I don’t want to push him.

“What did I tell you about that name,” he finally breathes, the sound of his voice sending chills down my spine in anticipation, as he takes one final pull from the bottle of whiskey I brought for the game, before placing it down on the floor, and rising to his feet. “Do you want me to punish you, is that it?” he adds, taking a step towards me, and I tip my head back to meet his stare.

“I want you to do whatever you want with me,” I tell him truthfully, and the look in his eyes turns predatory, as his thumb comes up and brushes across my lips almost delicately.

“I need to shower first,” he tells me softly, looking like he doesn’t want to leave me, and I lean into his touch, forcing myself to stand, bringing our bodies against one another.

I can feel his erection against my own, my mouth watering at the thought of him being inside of me, and I clear my throat, as I demand, “Then lead the way.”

He watches me for a few more seconds, as if contemplating something, before he grips my hand in his and drags me toward the bathroom. Once there, he leans in and turns on the shower, before turning around to face me, and I can see his mind going to war with itself, and I know he wants to hide. I’m sure he finds it easier than facing whatever demons make up his past, but I want all of him, the good, the bad, and the fucking damaged, and I don’t care who knows it.

Reaching behind me, I pull off my shirt, dropping it to the ground, and then kicking off my shoes and reaching for my belt. I slowly strip off my clothes until I am bare before him, all the while keeping his stare locked on mine. Closing the distance between us again, I kiss him softly, until all I can taste is him. Then I move to slip past him toward the shower, but he grips my arm, holding me firmly in place, and when our eyes collide this time, his stare is almost blank.

He doesn’t say anything, but his hands shake as he lets go of me, reaching for the bottom of his workout top and slowly pulling it upwards, revealing his chiseled and scarred torso. With his eyes still on mine, he tosses it aside and shoves down his shorts, discarding his shoes at the same time, until he is completely naked apart from the chain around his neck. I hold his stare, knowing he expects me to survey his body, but I can’t look away from him, not at this moment. Not when he is trustingme with everything, and I know it could slip through my fingers at any moment.

Keeping my stare on his, I let my hand fold around his waist, pulling him against me, and bringing our cocks together. “Do you feel what you do to me, Daemon?” I whisper against him, my breath hot on his lips. “Do you feel how hard my cock aches for you? How my body fucking yearns for you? I want you, I want every single part of you,” I tell him softly, brushing his lips with mine, which means I feel his sharp gasp as our naked chests press together, and nothing has ever felt this fucking raw and real before.

Our kiss instantly deepens, and then we are fumbling with one another to get into the shower, my body crashing into the hard tile with a wet thump. The scalding spray is nothing in comparison to how hot he makes me, as he fucks my mouth with his, and when our wet bodies slide together, I know I never want this to end. We kiss and grind as one, until I feel like I might explode, and when we pull apart we are both panting and breathless.

Daemon backs away a step, breathing heavily, his eyes blinking beneath the spray of the water, and I can tell he is trying his best to handle this. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, and for the first time since he took off his shirt, I let my eyes drop down his body. The ink on his arms swirls up across his shoulders and down his chest, spilling onto his ribs, but that’s not where my attention lies. No, instead it’s on the countless scars hiding within the ink littering his torso, too many to even count, as bile crawls up the back of my throat at the sight of them.

Fuck. It’s worse than I remember, and if his father wasn’t already in prison, I would drag him there myself.

For once Daemon doesn’t hide, even as my stare burns into his skin. Instead, he keeps his head held high and shouldersstraight, letting me get my fill of him, until I feel like I can’t fucking see straight. There are so many fucking marks, each one worse than the last, and my mind can’t comprehend any of them. How could someone do this to a person? How could a father do this to his son?

“Is it as bad as I’m thinking?” I seethe, my anger barely restrained, and somehow my question brings a humorless laugh out of him.

“Probably worse,” he sighs, and fuck, my hands itch to make someone pay, and I have to pull my stare away for a second to try and rein in my emotions, and my eyes land on his shower gel and a wash cloth.

Taking a chance, I reach for them both, drenching the cloth in soap and letting it bubble up in the water, before I bring my gaze back to him. Daemon is still watching me in wonder, and I close the small distance between us, slowly holding up the wash cloth in silent question, and hold my breath. He looks between the two, contemplating what I’m asking, before he nods ever so slightly. Blowing out a breath, I bring the cloth to his shoulder, gently pressing it down onto his skin, and noting his sharp intake of breath.

“It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you. I promise, Daemon, I will never hurt you,” I whisper, the spray of the shower almost washing my words away, but from the look in his eyes, I can tell he heard every single one.

He doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t push me away either, so I take that as a win, slowly starting to slide the cloth across his body, gently cleaning his skin. I wash his arms, his shoulders, his chest, and his stomach, not lingering on his scars, before slowly making my way behind him to do his back. There are even more marks there, and it takes everything in me not to react at the sight of them, silently continuing my mission to clean him, andby the time I circle back round to his front, his eyes are rimmed in red.

I open my mouth to say something, but he silences me with a kiss, before stepping back and rinsing all the soap from his body, all the while never breaking my stare. Only when he is completely clean does he finally open his mouth.

“I’ll meet you in bed,” he murmurs, brushing another soft kiss to my lips, before pushing past me and leaving me alone under the hot spray.

My cock is hard and aching for him, but I know he needs a minute, so I take the opportunity to wash off my own body, trying not to wallow in all the pain he must have gone through. He doesn’t want or need my pity, and I don’t want to give it to him. Instead, I want to show him how the marks on his body mean nothing to me, and they don’t change how much I want him.

Turning off the shower, I grab a towel and wrap it around my waist, hanging back for another minute before I leave the bathroom, expecting to find him fully clothed and closed off again. Instead, I find him sitting on the end of his bed, in the exact spot that I vacated earlier, still in just his towel, and sipping from the liquor bottle as he waits for me.

The sight of him takes my breath away, and it’s only when his eyes meet mine, that I understand just what he meant about the first time we met. I always chalked it down to my stupid freshman self having a threesome for the first time, that his presence in that moment and the hatred that followed was what had me captivated, but I was wrong, it’s just him. Daemon Forbes in all his dark and disturbed glory, calling to me like a damn siren, and I have been completely entrapped by him since that very first night.

When I walk toward him, his eyes meet mine before slowly trailing down my body, which, like his, is covered only by thetowel around my waist. Tipping more of the liquor in his mouth he watches me closely, but as I open my mouth to speak, he is already shaking his head and beating me to it.

“The time for talking is over, Gray.” His words are nothing short of a command, as he dumps the bottle aside, and brings his gaze to the neatly tucked knot that keeps the towel around my waist. “First, I’m going to suck your cock,” he tells me, his voice drenched in so much dark lust that it has my dick springing to life. “You’re going to fuck my mouth until I can taste you dripping down the back of my throat, and then I’m going to fuck you, until your cock is hard once more, and I am spilling deep inside of you.”

I haven’t even opened my mouth to respond before he is tugging at the fabric of the towel roughly, pulling it from my skin as if the mere sight of it offends him. Then his hand is gripping the base of my cock in a tight hold, stroking me firmly, before leaning forward and licking the underside from root to tip. His tongue trails along the veins there, as if committing each of them to memory, before pulling back and swirling around my tip. Pre-cum floods his mouth, but he only does it again, slower this time, lapping my crown with attention until my cock is drenched in his spit.

“Fuck, Daemon,” I groan, reaching my hand up and fisting the back of his hair to prevent him from moving, and I swear I feel his smirk around my cock as he sucks me in deep. “You suck me so fucking good,” I praise, delighting in the way his eyes snap to mine at my words, as if they please him.

“Wait until you see how good I fuck you,” he grunts, before taking me to the back of his throat once more, and fuck, never have I wanted anything more.

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