Page 114 of Runaways

"You don't miss it, then?" I ask. "Noah naked on her back beneath you, her legs spread and her pussy bared, my cum all over her tits, bouncing while you slam your dick into her?"

"No…" he whimpers.

But his dick jumps in my fist. I rub my thumb over the tip, smearing precum all over the head. He's lying.

"You don't miss taking turns with her pussy and her mouth? You don't miss watching me fuck her and getting hard all over again?" I ask as I pump his cock in my fist.

"Oh, fuck. Don't stop."

"You never gave her a break, did you? You had her legs shaking all night, just like they were under the table at the bar yesterday. She was so relieved when you finally came; she looked like she was going to cry."

My own dick throbs at the thought. I picture Noah with her eyes watering and my dick in the back of her throat, Tate kneeling beside her. I picture the two of them licking me together, taking turns getting their throats fucked, and it twitches, begging to be sucked and fucked.

"She never asked for a break—she was a slut," he groans. "She couldn't get enough of it."

"Just like you, Tate," I say, releasing his arm and pulling his jeans down over his hips. I bend him over, and he holds himself up with his arms inside the car's truck. I spit in my hand and then rub it over the head of my dick before thrusting inside him.

"Oh, fuck. Yes. Fuck me…"

I find my rhythm, my hips slamming into his ass cheeks and rocking the car forward with each thrust. Tate whimpers, already on the edge of orgasm.

"More…" he pleads.

"You know, maybe you should go over there later…" I tell him through clenched teeth, grunting with every thrust. "You could slip your dick inside her tight little pussy while she's sleeping…"

"Fuck yes…"

I wrap my hands around his biceps, using them for leverage as I pound my dick into him harder and faster.

"Ahh…just like that," he says. "Don't stop. I'm gonna come."

"Show her what a good boy you can be when she lets you use her body to milk your dick. Make her scream when she comes—I bet she'll love you then."

"Oh, god," he moans, writhing against me, wrapping his hand around his leaking cock. He pumps it in his fist, whimpering and milking it until it runs dry.

My balls tighten as I watch, my dick throbbing as I slide it in and out of him until I explode, filling him while he clenches around me.

I hiss as I pull out of him, stuffing my dick back inside my pants.

"Do you feel better?" I ask.

"No," Tate says as he stands and adjusts his pants. "I'm still mad."

I laugh a little, shaking my head, and kiss him on the lips. This time, he doesn't complain that I taste like pussy. "Whatever. Lock the trunk and let's go inside."

Tate follows me into the motel, bolting the door behind us before lying back on the bed and turning on the television.

Well, he might claim he's still pissed, but he's subdued, at least. For now.

I shower and then take out my laptop, lie on the bed, and start researching how to discretely remove and replace side panels on car doors. I take notes on what tools I'll need, fairly confident I'll be able to get all of this done before the sun comes up.

Once I'm finished, I close the window and search for somewhere to eat, settling on a Mexican place a couple of blocks away. I pick up the motel landline and place two orders, one for pickup and the other for delivery, telling them I'll pay for both with cash when I get there.

"You ordered Noah food, too," Tate says. It's not really a question, but I respond as if it were, anyway.

"Yeah, I did. Why wouldn't I?"

He moves over, resting his head against my shoulder. "You don't need to hate yourself because of Noah and the food stuff," he says. "I shouldn't have said that."

---