Page 16 of Lust

He grits his teeth, his head shifting either way before he says, “Fuck it.” He pulls his blade back and folds it up, sliding it into his jacket pocket.

After having a knife to my throat, the smart thing would be to run, but my rational mind isn’t in control, just this potent, feral desire for this asshole. It’s so powerful that I can’t even blame myself for whatever’s about to happen.

And I can blame him for all this once I get some relief.

I check to make sure no one at the party can see me behind this tree.

Brad unfastens his fly in no time, and as he starts to help with mine, I grab hold of his shaft.

“Damn, that’s big,” I say.

“The hardest you saw was in the showers, and that was nothing.”

I pull my hand back and lick my palm, tasting him—God, he tastes good—before putting it back around his cock and giving him a few strokes.

He finally gets my fly undone and his hand under my boxers, rubbing my cock.

“Thank Christ,” he says, as though we just needed to get to this moment so he could have some peace. Angry as I am that this is my life right now, at least I can enjoy the fact that Brad has to suffer too.

He shoves me against the tree, pushing close, until his chest is against mine. He leans down, his face settling near my cheek before he slides his nose across it, inhaling. “You smell so good,” he whispers before rocking his hips, his cock stiffening even more as he offers a bite against my throat.

I roll my head against the tree.

His teeth push into my flesh, shooting sparks from the spot right through me. It’s the sort of experience that makes me forget all about our issues. Makes me forgive him every asshole thing he’s done to me—even having a knife to my throat—as long as he doesn’t fucking stop. Because if he does…thatI’ll never forgive him for.

“That’s right, just like that, Pretty Boy,” he says as I continue working his cock. “So fucking pretty.”

My cock firms in his hold as he says the words, which sound like a confession rather than trying to drive home an insult.

“I shouldn’t want this,” I tell him. “I’m straight.”

He snickers against my neck. “You mentioned. Mmmm. Not my Pretty Boy then, my Straight Boy. Even better.”

He offers another nibble, then an open-mouthed kiss to the flesh.

His tongue and lips send waves of sensation through me. Can only imagine how good it’d feel wrapped around my cock, taking me to release.

I start to call out before his hand clamps down on my mouth, and I’m relieved one of us was thinking fast enough to keep me from alerting the party to come out and watch the two guys jerking off behind the tree.

We work together in a wild frenzy—we’re just strokes, breaths, pulsing cocks, and this steady rush of sensation that assures me this was the best way to end our agony. He presses his chest tighter against my body, and with my free hand, I grab on to the back of his head, drawing him closer as he continues making out with my neck.

“I’m about to come,” he whispers into my skin before he bites at my jaw, and I feel his hips jerk and his cock throb before the warm sensation rushes against my abs.

I keep jerking for a few moments, reveling in the sensation of him marking me.

Like the only thing I ever needed in my life was to have a man dump his load on my body.

What is this?

What is happening to my goddamn brain?

I can hardly think straight before he pulls his cock away and releases me.

“That’s fucking cruel,” I say. “I got you off.” He drops to his knees. “Brad, you fucking asshole—”

Before I can go any further, I feel a warm, wet surprise around my dick.

He doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t question anything. Just goes to work.

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