Page 37 of Unmoored

“Mmmpghffnngh!”

I’m panting for breath, but however hard I squirm under Murph, I can’t even budge him. I grab the pillow for dear life, tossing my head as I try to resist the temptation to reach down and grab myself again.

“Mmhmm?” Murph chuckles—a low, rough, forceful sound that makes my last functioning brain cells flee.

“Please please please pleasepleeeease…!” I whimper, squeezing my eyes closed as I beg for dear life.

Oh,fuck. Whatever he just did, white-hot, pleasurable pinpricks are flooding me. My shorts are too tight, and my rock-hard cock is aching for dear life. Then Murph does it again, and I can hear the echoes of my own cry ringing through the boat—and eventhat’sturning me on.

I peek through my lashes and gasp. He’s sliding his palms up my chest, pinching both my nipples and softly rolling them between his fingertips until it’s right on the edge of too much…

“Nnngh—”

Murph cuts off my wordless moan by almost devouring my mouth, pushing his tongue between my lips over and over, until I can’t do anything besides let him take me apart piece by piece.

At last, he pulls away, his breath hot against my lips as his fingertips leave off the torment. Instead, he drags his fingertips slowly down my sides.

“Yes—ohhh—oh, fuck—” I whimper, twitching at all the unexpectedly pleasurable spots he’s finding along the way. “Take my shorts off, please. I need you. Fuck, I want you so fucking bad—you can do anything you want?—”

Murph presses a finger against my lips. “Ask me with your body,” he murmurs.

I gasp against his finger, staring up at the amused gleam in his eyes. But as much as I want to be irritated at him… he’s finally gliding his hand along the bulge of my cock, rubbing me in slow, firm strokes that make my eyes roll back in my head.

“Much better,” he says, and it takes me a second to realize that I just made a series of wordless noises I didn’t know I could make.

I groan, long and low. Then I can’t help myself—I wrap my lips around his fingertip, sucking it into my mouth.

“Mmm,” Murph grunts, pushing his finger between my lips like he did his tongue. Then he adds a second finger. And I’m so eager to show off—I so badly want to make him imagine what it’ll feel like elsewhere—that I just tilt my head back and take it.

I squeeze my eyes closed, my cheeks burning as Murph slides his fingers across my tongue, slowly and steadily fucking his fingers into my mouth.

His other hand is surprisingly nimble, working open the few buttons I bothered fastening on my shirt. Then he pulls his fingertips out of my mouth and runs the hot, wet pads of his fingers around one nipple.

As my whole body arches against him, I cry out in a thin, desperate whimper. My cock is throbbing so hot and fast that I’m starting to think I mightactuallycum in my shorts.

There’s certainly no mistaking the rigid line of heat I feel against my thigh.

He’s just as hard as I am. When’s he going to take care of that?

But now I know better than to ask—and besides, it’s not like I could. Murph is shoving the first two fingers of his other hand into my mouth, making me suck them for dear life.

I can’t stop my whimpers when he pulls them free to run them around my nipples in slow, steady circles that make the room spins around me.

“Murph…!” I squeak, squeezing my eyes shut.

“Hm?”

I bite back all the words I want to say—the suggestions, the orders, the directions, the jokes, any of the ways I’m used to deflecting and disguising my own desire, even from myself.

Instead, I arch against him, reaching down to wrap my arms around his back and bury my face in his shoulder. “Please,” I gasp raggedly, my thighs trembling.

He chuckles softly and reaches up to gently comb his fingertips through my hair. Then he mouths the side of my neck and starts kissing his way toward my lips. He’s slow, steady, almost gentle—like he has all the time in the world.

When Murph reaches my lips, all bets are off.

He throws the rest of his weight onto me, shoves his tongue into my mouth, and yanks my shorts straight down my thighs. He barely wastes a moment before wrapping his hand around my throbbing length.

It’s so fucking tight—so fuckinggood! With every stroke, the ridges of his fingers glide across the sensitive head of my cock. He even twists his hand just right on the upstroke, and I know I’m about to lose the battle.

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