Page 73 of Burn It Down

“Out there,” he nods his head toward the elevator, “I followed your lead. In here, you follow mine.” His deep voice rumbles in my chest, rendering me speechless as his hands come off the wall to unfasten my tie before diving into my hair. He grips my roots tightly, pulling my head to the side, exposing my throat as he sucks on a spot that makes pre-cum drip down my thigh.

I shove my hips forward, silently begging him to touch me there.

No dice.

All I feel is his smile against my skin.

“Come on, man,” I beg.So, this is what it’s like to lose your mind.

My hands, which were previously around his back, now flank his sides, pulling him as hard as I can toward me. But Dylan’s got about twenty extra pounds of muscle that I don’t, and he easily stands his ground.

Letting go of my hair, he grabs my hand and pulls me with him down the hallway to my bedroom where he immediately relieves me of my own jacket. I practically attack him, trying to get his shirt off, but while I’m taking my time slipping each button through its hole — fumbling most of them — he grips the collar of my shirt and yanks in opposite directions, making all the buttons land on the carpeted floor. The shirt and my tie land next to my jacket in a heap.

“Oops,” he smirks.

One of Dylan’s strong hands lands on the back of my neck, the other grips my ass, pulling me into him.Finally.Not wanting to miss out or be left behind, I strip his tie first and then start tearing at his shirt the same way he did mine, relieved when the familiarpoptells me I was successful and his shirt finally falls open.

“Get this the fuck off,now,” I growl, shoving it down, wanting his muscular, tattooed arms bared to me.

He pulls it off the rest of the way and throws it over the low chair to my right. I reach for the belt wrapped around his waist next. I expect him to stop me just to prove his power, but he doesn’t. I whip his belt through the loops in his suit pants and push him backwards until his legs hit the edge of my bed and he sits.

Now eye level with my waist, he wraps his hands around the backs of my thighs, pulling me toward him and undoes my belt. He leaves it in the loops and goes for the button and zipper next. My hands are in his hair as I stand in front of him.

Teasing me, he leaves my pants open, but in place as he dips his fingertips into the waistband of my boxers and pulls them down just low enough so he can run his tongue along the sensitive strip of flesh beneath the elastic band.

“Fuuuuuck,” I groan, reveling in the feel of a man’s mouth on me once again…the feel ofthisman’s mouth on me.

Dylan’s hands move to the pockets of my trousers and pull down with a forceful speed, making me drop to my knees between his legs along with my pants.

His erection is long and hard, bobbing along his thigh, angry at being confined. It makes my mouth water.

Quickly unfastening his pants, I grab the sides. “Lift.”

He pushes his hips into the air, allowing me to slide his pants and boxers down his legs. I pull his shoes off and remove his pants completely so he can spread his legs wide, giving me unhindered access.

There are so many things I want to tell him, like how fucking perfect he is, but words would only detract from the current situation, so I take a quick second to savor the sight in front of me before grabbing his shaft and pulling his balls into my mouth one at a time.

His torso hits the bed as his hands begin kneading my shoulders.

I could stay here forever.

Tugging on his sack with my mouth causes his stomach to flutter and I double my efforts, wanting to elicit more of his moans of pleasure. I switch sides, continuing my assault until finally, I pull his cock into my mouth.

He tastes as sinful as he looks.The saltiness of his pre-cum has me craving more.

"Ohh,fuck yes. Don’t stop doing that, Jake.” I bob another couple of times before I swirl my tongue around the head of his dick. “Mmm, yeah. God, you suck dick so well.”

I hum my approval at his words.

I can’t really say any of my previous partners were very vocal, but Dylan’s words have me rescinding my earlier thought that words would only detract from what we’re doing.

My own cock feels neglected, and rutting against the edge of the mattress isn’t doing enough, so I stand, spit in my palm, and stroke my cock with one hand while tapping his thigh with the other.

“Scoot back on the bed,” I command, kicking my pants off the rest of the way, walking to my night stand, and pulling a pump bottle of lube out of the drawer.

His expression is guarded as he barks, “Who’s giving the orders tonight?”

“Right now? Me. Now slide the fuck back.”

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