Page 85 of Winter's End

“You’re sure about this, baby?”

I had won my bet, although I really didn’t think it would have taken much convincing either way. Ever since Shane and I had fucked for the first time, I had fantasized about taking his ass like I had Winter’s. The vise grip she’d held me in still made me see stars in my dreams, and I needed to feel the same from Shane.

My gorgeous man was spread out in front of me, his bare ass at the ready for me to try my hand being a top. His ass was so biteable; two muscular chunks of tanned flesh just waiting to be squeezed and covered in teeth marks. Another day.

“I want to fuck you raw, baby,” I replied, finishing the final coat of lube over my rock-solid shaft.

I dripped lube all down his hole, worked it inside with my fingers, and scissored him in rhythmic strokes. He shuddered beneath me with a deep, cock-stiffening groan. “That’s right, baby, take my fingers like you fucking own them. Do you like that?”

“Fuck, I like it when you talk dirty to me,” Shane whimpered; I reached around with my other hand and grasped his steel erection.

“Yes, baby.” He groaned and bucked into my hand as I pumped him hard. “Fuck, yes.”

I was taking a page out of his book. He loved dominating me, and I learned I liked to do the same. I loved it when Winter took the reins with me, but with Shane—we could be two fuck-buddies on a football field, trying to outdo each other with our passes—except with our cocks and our words.

I removed my fingers from his ass and pulled him up on his knees in front of me, lining my cock up with his entrance and notching the head just inside his tight hole. The way he gripped me was euphoric, and I slowly pushed my way in.

Sweat beaded my brow as I forced my way into his intense heat. I didn’t want this to be a fast and dirty fuck.

His ass flexed, and his grip on me shifted, sending lightning up my spine.

Screw it. I didn’t need to savor this moment. I’d savor cuddling and his sweet words after. I needed to come inside him and feel his cum coat my palms.

I banded my arm around his ribs and thrust into him deep and hard, pushing us both up the bed with the force of each pulse of my hips. I held his cock tight in my fist, jerking him off to the same rhythm. The sustained pumping of my cock flooded me with a type of pleasure I had never known before Shane.

“Fuck, baby. Do you feel how deep my cock is in you right now? Do you need me to fuck you harder? Tell me what you want, baby.”

Shane’s body was tensing, his movements against my palm frantic. He was so close to dissolving into a puddle at my feet.

“Rip me a new fucking asshole; destroy me, baby. Fuck me so deep, your cum won’t be able to come out of me.”

I didn’t respond. I just did as he begged; fucking him so roughly my balls slapped against his and my hand developed callouses, I pumped him so hard.

We exploded at the same time—hot cum coated my fingers as jets of my own burst into him. Our bodies sagged onto his mattress in completely spent exhilaration.

“If that’s what happens to me when you win a bet, I’m always fucking losing.” Shane snickered into my arm with a satisfied sigh.

“As long as I’m with you, I’m always fucking winning,” I answered, resting my head on the crook of his shoulder. “I love you, Shane.”

Despite his Jell-O body from an earth-shattering orgasm, he shot up from the bed and whipped around to face me. His long dark hair framed his gorgeous face—the gorgeous face contorted into a massive grin, like a dopey Golden Retriever.

“Really!?” He beamed down at me with an energy only Shane possessed. It could penetrate through you and give you the same boost in mood, no matter what had happened to you that day.

“I love you too, Drew.”

He kissed me sweetly, then lay back down and cradled me between his strong biceps. After one more round of orgasms, we fell asleep in each other’s arms, like proper lovers do.

CHAPTER 23

WINTER

No part of my psyche could have predicted my plans for the day.

It was a rare day where I wasn’t on Bourbon & Blues schedule, and my exams were over. I had planned to curl up with a new dark romance on my Kindle and veg out.

That beautiful picture-perfect day had washed away when I got a phone call from Mom. We hadn’t spoken since I’d left the house a few weeks ago.

‘To check in,’ she’d said. She’d been ‘worried about me.’

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