Page 94 of The Chance

Lower.

My cock pulses.

“Jordan.”

Is he really going to—

Without warning, he wraps his lips around the head of my cock.

“Fuuuuuuuck.”

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Jordan

The choking curse thatescapes Mac is all the answer I need to know that I’m doing the right thing.

Because it shoots electricity straight to my cock. Tingles down the back of my neck. Elicits an itch in my fingers to touch, to roam over his body and feel the hard muscle beneath hair-dusted skin.

Mac. Mac. Mac.

The heady flavor coats my tongue as I tentatively swirl it around the head of him, slipping over the slit and tasting the precum leaking from him.

It clings to my tastebuds and my mouth fucking waters because it’s …

Savory.

Almost salty.

All Mac.

And enough to have my tongue lapping at the tip in search of more.

“Fuckshit—”

I look up just in time—passed that fucking trail of tantalizing hair from his navel over his flat chest—to catch his neck arching back, his chest laboring with his breaths.

It has a need like I’ve never felt before pulsing through my veins and landing right in my groin.

A need to ignore the recognition tickling my mind about thinking with the wrong head.

And as I lick a long stripe down the underside of his cock and his hips punch up, I shut it off completely.

Settling between his legs, I spread him wide enough to accommodate my width and dance my tongue back down the length of his straining erection.

He’s hard … for me.

I trail down his sac, nip at the junction where his thigh meets his groin.

Lower.

Over his taint.

There’s no nightmare this time to justify my actions. But there is this burning need for connection settling deep inside. To be as close as possible.

To make him feel good.

Nothing else even registers as I splay him wide open and dive between his cheeks, teasing at first. Tasting. Testing the boundaries.

---