Page 78 of Caught Stealing

I stroke us from root to tip, rolling my fist over our heads and drawing out more precum to coat our shafts. His hips arch into my touch, seeking more of the friction I’m providing.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, those dark brown eyes now black with lust. “Don’t stop.”

I have no intention of stopping until we reach that peaceful oblivion and are both wrung dry of cum, barely able to stand, let alone walk out of here.

My tongue licks a path up his throat from his collarbone to his jaw, and a groan rumbles deep in his chest. His hands grip me tighter, like he’s holding on for dear life when I want him to let go. To be taken over by pleasure, only to be lost to the world.

To anything except me and him and this and us.

I pick up speed, my hand moving quickly over our shafts now. The bump and grind of our heads creates the perfect kind of friction, and it’s got my cock twitching in my palm. From the soft groans and precum seeping from his slit, he’s feeling the same way.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” I murmur in reverence, loving every movement and sound he makes.

My lips brush against the skin of his throat before placing a kiss to his pulse point. I keep working them over his heated flesh, making my way toward his mouth as his hips start rolling in time with my hand.

A moan drags from his throat when my mouth skims over his, not in a kiss but in a whisper of a caress. One as seductive as it is taunting.

“Kiss me,” he pants, but rather than waiting for me to do it, he grabs the back of my neck and draws my mouth to his.

His tongue spears between my lips, taking what he wants as I push us closer and closer to the impending bliss. He must be close too, because he starts thrusting up into my palm, and each one drives me closer to the edge of insanity.

Release is right there for the taking; I can feel it all the way down to my toes. And when his teeth sink into my lower lip, tugging at it to the point of near pain, I fall off the cliff into ecstasy with a low moan.

Cum spills from my cock, the liquid coating my fingers and spreading down our lengths as I continue jacking them together. I need him there with me, though. I want him thrown over the cliff into freefall right beside me.

“Fuck, Nix,” I pant as I shuttle my fist over us faster. “Come. Give it to me.”

As if my words alone were enough to push him over the edge, Phoenix’s cock pulses against mine and his release spurts free. It drips down our shafts, mixing with mine as I continue working him through his climax. His teeth sink into his lower lips as he tries to stay quiet, but the moans and pants are too much for me to withstand, so I haul him closer and seal my mouth over his.

I swallow down those little sounds, taking them for myself. After all, they belong to me.

Hebelongs to me.

His grip on my shoulder lessens before his arm falls to his side, but the one wrapped around my neck remains as he takes our kiss from frantic to languid. Every soft, slow sweep of his lips on mine has my heart racing faster than my orgasm slamming into me at full force.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs as we both come down from the high of our climax. But when a smile forms on his lips while they brush mine, the same fluttering feeling hits me all over again.

Everything about this guy turns me inside out before twisting me in knots.

I release our cocks and pull my shirt over my head to use the fabric as a cum cloth. Not exactly ideal, though it’s the quickest, easiest option to get us cleaned up. We’ve already chanced this encounter enough, and as much as I’d like to curl up in a cum-soaked heap on the ground, the likelihood of us getting caught here with our pants literally down only gets higher the longer we stay.

Phoenix’s eyes never leave me as we right ourselves, and once he’s completely redressed, he digs through his bag until he pulls out a Leighton Baseball hoodie.

“Here,” he says, holding it out for me to take.

My throat constricts as I shrug into it, becoming enveloped in his scent, and God, if it doesn’t do something strange to my heart. It feels like he has his fist wrapped around it, and every time I catch sight of a new or innocent piece of him, he squeezes it a little harder. Claims it a little bit more.

And that’s how I know I’m well and truly fucked here.

But not as much as when his eyes slide over my body while wearing his hoodie, before he cups the back of my head and draws me in for another kiss. One that’s not remotely sexual or seductive, just a simple press of his lips to mine. Soft, sweet, and painstakingly slow.

Correction: now, I’m fucked.

His brown eyes bore into mine when he breaks away, and when his fingertips scrape against my skull, I have to fight the urge to lean into his touch.

“You still wanna talk? Now’s the chance.”

“Now?”I ask, my brow lifting in surprise.

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