Page 18 of Insatiable Hunger

He nods, whimpering.

I wrap a hand around the back of his neck, leaning down and bringing my lips a hair’s breadth away from his. “How bad do you want it?”

“I want you to suck me so bad.Please.”

Typically, in bed, I’m more of a submissive. But something about him turning to putty in my hand and practicallybeggingme to swallow him up has me high on lust and power. Climbing down his body, I wrap a fist around him, bringing the tip up to my lips. Eyes on him, I lap up the precum dripping from the slit while his head drops back on a sigh.

I let him slide across my tongue about halfway, the weight of him making my own cock leak. Closing my lips around him, I hollow my cheeks as I draw him back out to the tip before sinking all the way down. His musky scent surrounds me as my nose brushes up against the root, my hand reaching up and cupping his firm balls. Using them as a handle, I bob my head up and down on his length as soft moans sound from him.

Reaching down, I stroke myself while I work him closer and closer to the edge. It isn’t long before he swells, spilling down my throat with me not far behind him. Jordan sits up, pressing his lips to mine, sweeping his tongue inside briefly before we both move to get dressed. My eyes find the mess on the bed, realizing I’ll have to clean that comforter.

Looking over at Jordan, there’s this awkward, post-hook-up energy in the room, and based on the bashful expression on his face, I’d say he’s feeling it too. Thankfully, he saves us both when he blurts out, “Well, I should probably go. It’s getting late and I have to work in the morning.”

“No, yeah. Let me walk you out.”

Stepping out into the hall, I’m hit with a whiff of familiar Tom Ford cologne.Shit. Zeke is home.Praying to whatever god there is that we don’t run into him between here and the door, we shuffle down the stairs in silence.

Completely unaware of my internal panic, he spins as soon as we get to the door. “Uh, I had fun with you tonight.”

Forcing a smile on my face despite my racing heart, I say, “Me too.”

“So, I’ll text you later?”

“Sounds good!”

Wrapping his hand behind my neck, he hauls my lips into his for a quick but heated kiss before leaving. Locking the door, I rest my back against it, sagging and letting out a deep breath.

Shit, that was close.

Apparently, my need to piss Zeke off knowssomebounds after all.

Chapter Ten

Zeke Alvarez

When I was younger, me and my siblings used to binge watch movies frequently. The DVD player we had was the nicest thing we owned, and we sure used it. My mom and my younger brother, Julio, died when I was twelve. My older sister, Elena, took over in the role of caregiver. It was her and I for as long as I can remember. Elena was almost twenty when it happened, so she had no clue what she was doing or how to raise an almost teenage boy, but she did the best she could.

The nightmares started shortly after their death. That day would haunt me almost every single night, and when I’d wake up covered in sweat, panicked, and unable to relax, Elena would put on a movie in her room, and we’d watch it until I was calm enough to fall back to sleep. It was almost always some old chick flick from the eighties that she would turn on. Her favorite. I used to grumble about them and demand something else—something moreboyish, like an action movie. Because in my pre-pubescent adolescent mind, surely, boys couldn’t enjoy movies with happily ever afters. I quickly got over that, though.

Then as I got older, the insomnia kicked in. I had too much on my mind; it couldn’t stop running through everything I needed to do, everything I haven’t been able to do, and the mile-long list of responsibilities on my plate. So, like I did when I was a teenager, I’d turn on movies, watching them until my mind was able to calm down enough to sleep.

Middle of the night eighties movies sort of became a comfort for me over the years. One I’ve never been able to get rid of. So, it’s really no surprise that I find myself in my media room at one in the morning, Dirty Dancing playing, a half empty glass of scotch resting on my knee, and sleep nowhere in sight.

My nerves are shot, and I can’t get the goddamn obscene noises out of my head that I heard earlier when I got home. Elias in his room with some fucking asshole. It’s clear as day what they were doing, if the hushed whispers and moans are any indication. I shouldn’t care. It shouldn’t bother me.

But it does.

And apparently, no amount of scotch is going to change that.

On the screen, Johnny is starting to teach Baby how to dance, his patience worn thin—something I can relate to—when I hear the distinct sound of the door opening and then closing.Shit.There’s only one person that could be. Valerie isn’t one to watch movies and Hilda has never stepped foot inside this room except to clean it, despite me telling her over and over that she is more than welcome to use anything in the house.

The other night, when Elias came in here and watched The Breakfast Club with me, I thought it was a one-off. It went okay… no major issues, but that was before I shoved him up against the damn front door after he got home from hisdate.Even the thought of that makes my blood boil.

His soft steps sound behind me, faltering only momentarily when he must notice I’m in here, before he quietly meanders his way to the other end of the couch where he sat the other night.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks, sitting down.

Without glancing at him, I mutter, “No,” before bringing the glass to my lips and emptying the contents into my mouth.

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