Page 96 of The Good Boys Club

If death came for either of us now, it would have to fucking wait.

“I need to look at you,” I said, spinning our positions around so that Mash’s back was against the wall.

I knew this body so well, yet I was used to stealing covert glances at it. Spying on his perfection whilst he was looking the other way. Even though Mash never attempted to hide any part of his physique from me, I always felt as though I was peeping.

Now I could stare without restrictions. Without feeling like a pervert banking up images of his best friend.

Mash was incredible. Taller than the day we first met, more muscular, hairier. So much hairier. Light, sandy-blonde fur covered his entire torso. Sparse enough to still see every line and ridge of his muscles and the tattoo in the centre of his chest, but thick enough for my fingers to get completely lost in.

And get lost they did. I dug my fingertips in, scraping his skin with my short nails, tracking the contours. Water coursed over my hands. I moved them to his shoulders, behind his neck, into his hair, and tugged his head to the side so that I could bury my nose against his nape and breathe in the scent of us, slightly dampened by the running water and fading a little—the last time we did the pee thing was almost a week ago—but he still smelled incredible.

Westill smelled incredible. But I had the sudden urge to reinforce my wolfish claim on him.

“Mash, does cum strengthen the mate-bond scent?”

He nodded. “Not as much as piss, I think, but yes, it will.”

“So . . . if I cover myself in your cum, people will know I’m yours?”

Mash growled, actually growled, and seized my hands, holding them above my head against the tiles on the opposite wall. He dragged his mouth from my human ears to the divot at the base of my neck, pinning my hips, rocking his erection against mine.

He took his kisses down my torso, pausing at each of my tattoos, getting farther down my chest until he was near my stomach. I got the sense he was making his way to my dick, but I’d spent so long imagining all the ways I would make Mash fall to pieces if given half a chance, I wasn’t prepared to relinquish that control yet.

Tonight was all about him.

I pushed him away from my body by the shoulders. He blinked up at me, surprise and possible hurt in his eyes.

“I need you to fuck my mouth,” I said, like the idea had popped into my head only that second and I hadn’t been dreaming about choking on his cock for fifteen years. I pulled him upright and dropped to my knees.

“Oh my gods. You don’t have to,” he said.

Mash was a giver. I’d known that for so long. Even though it would be his first time giving a blow job, he’d want this to be the other way around.

“I know,” I said simply. I gazed up at his perfection. The shower water cascaded off him, tracked down his torso and thighs. His cock hung heavy and fat between us. His knots looked so big and swollen that they appeared painful.

I ran my fingers up the muscles of his thighs and laid a kiss against one of his knots. Mash cried out, his back flattened against the tiles. I kissed the other, flicked my tongue between them, cupped them with my palms, and licked up Mash’s cock. Then I buried the head in my mouth.

One of his hands threaded into my hair, gripping it tightly. The other braced against the ceiling, his biceps flexed like he was already holding himself back from coming. Mash was a big guy.Tall, with muscles everywhere, and a massive cock. I swallowed it down as far as I could take him—to the top of his knots.

I kept replaying the memory from earlier when Mash came in his shorts . . . just from kissing me. I couldn’t stop picturing his expression when he fell apart. How his brows seemed to arch in surprise. How his lips formed the perfect O shape. How his eyes never left mine, like he’d been searching for something within my soul and had, at that precise moment, found it.

I needed to see that again, needed to make Mash break at least once more. I continued sucking him, moving my mouth up and down on his cock. He alternated between tipping his head back and moaning, and caressing my cheeks with his thumbs while watching me work him into a frenzy.

He was getting close, his breath hitching, his stomach muscles spasming, his cock swelling, his knots growing to an almost unimaginable size. I was so close to breaking myself.

“Oh, fuck. Oh my fucking gods. Ci, you’re so good at this. Holy shit. Feels so fucking . . .”

I caressed his knots with one hand, while jerking myself with the other, moaning my ecstasy onto his cock.

“Fuck, Ci, fuck. You gotta stop, I’m gonna come. Oh gods, fuck, Ci.”

I looked up at him.

“Gods, you look so good on your knees for me. Can I come in your mouth?”

“Mmhmm,” I said, nodding slightly but not taking myself off him.

“Fuck. Are you gonna swallow?”

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