Page 21 of Mayfly

“Fuck,” Jude moans into my mouth as he unbuckles my belt. Then he touches me.

His large palm and long fingers.

Gripping, groping.

He’s not gentle.

I let my head fall back against the wall as he presses harder. Then his touch is gone, and I bite my lip so I don’t complain.

I’m his now.

He can do with me what he wants.

Jude unbuttons my charcoal shirt until he reaches my trousers and undoes them as well. His brow creases with immediate sadness at the sight of my littered skin, but he tears his eyes away in the hopes I didn’t see his pity. Then his hands are back on me, separating the fabric of my shirt as they push up over my bare chest to hold my neck.

He wants to kiss me again, but I stare him down, waiting for him to notice.

Maybe it’s the feeling of the gold chain beneath his hands or perhaps the darkness of my tattoos where pale skin should be, but eventually, he looks—his eyes widening before his weight is pushing against my chest as he forces another kiss.

“Such a good boy,” he tells me, groping my ass.

“Do you like it?”

“I fucking love it.” His lips are on my neck, sucking, kissing, biting like he wants to eat me.

“I never forgot about you.”

He slides my body down the wall until I’m standing. “I thought about you every day.”

“Me too.”

“So why don't you show me how much you missed me?”

I can feel my eyes sparking like they only ever do right before I drag my knife across someone’s neck. It’s freeing, like nothing matters anymore. Not my childhood, or the people I’ve killed.

Without another thought, I drop to my knees. My hands twist in his belt loops, yanking him closer as my mouth meets the rigid outline of him. I glance up, locking eyes. His lids are heavy and his pupils blown wide. Grabbing a fist full of my hair, he pulls my head back and unzips his pants. I reach out and pull them and his underwear down.

Jude’s cock falls heavy against my chin. The scent of him is intoxicating, but I don’t dare break his gaze as he removes his pants completely.

“Be a good boy.”

My mouth opens wide and I stick out my tongue.

He gives a hoarse groan and pulls me closer to slap his dick against my lips before guiding me onto him. The weight is unfamiliar, but I wrap my mouth around him, my tongue sliding along the underside of his cock. He’s salty, warm, and a little bitter.

My head bobs as I try to take him deeper.

I choke around him, gripping his thighs as my gag reflex kicks in.

He moans out, “Ah, fuck,” at the contraction of my throat. He allows me to draw back, and I gasp for air before he forces me back onto him. “Show me how sorry you are.”

I try to nod, but now he’s holding me with both hands.

Then his hips start moving.

At first, I try to ignore the discomfort, but it only takes seconds before I accept that this is the atonement I’ve been yearning for.

Every time I gag, he pulls back, waits a second, then forces back into me.

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