Page 85 of Worth the Wait
And he was falling.Fast.
His phone vibrated again, insistent. A second call. Urgent. Demanding.
Nathan growled and shoved it deeper into his pocket with one hand, never once breaking contact with Freddie’s mouth.
He wasn’t stopping.
Not for anyone.
Not when he had Freddie like this. On his knees, swallowing him down, owning every ragged, broken sound tearing from Nathan’s throat.
“Jesus fuck, Webb,” Nathan panted, thudding his head back against the wall.
Freddie hummed around him, a wicked, purposeful sound, and the vibration lanced fire straight through Nathan’s spine, low, intense and immediate. Then Freddie pulled off with a slick drag of lips, warm breath filtering over his cock as he gripped the shaft and worked him with slow, twisting strokes. Then he dipped lower, mouth hot and eager as he devoured his balls, sucking them in with obscene hunger, lapping his tongue over sensitive skin, driving Nathan to fall apart.
It wasn’t just a blowjob.
It was a performance.
Astatement.
It was Freddie showing him exactly what he’d learned. What Nathan had missed. What he could never forget again. And fuck, Nathan didn’t know whether he wanted to drag him up and curse him for it or grab him by the hair and fuck his throat.
Then Freddie slipped a hand into the waistband of his joggers, wrapping it around his own cock and fisted himself in rhythm, messy and rough, while his mouth sank back down onto Nathan’s length, fast, greedy, as if he couldn’t get enough. And Nathan was a slave to it.
He groaned, fisting Freddie’s hair. “Fuck, Freddie.Yeah.”
Freddie grunted in response, fluttering his eyes closed as his movements grew frantic, and Nathan watched, transfixed, as Freddie came first. Silently, face flushed, breath stuttering through his nose, mouth still stretched around Nathan’s cock.
Nathan lost it then. He snapped his hips forward, thrusting deep into Freddie’s mouth as pleasure tore through him, white-hot and unforgiving. He held him there, groaning, shuddering, eyes fixed on the way Freddie took it. Swallowing his release down as if it was the only thing he’d ever wanted.
Nathan spilled with a curse, chest heaving, sweat prickling down his back, as Freddie milked him for every drop of torment and memory and need.
He was wrecked.
Utterly ruined.
And he didn’t want to be anywhere else.
But whoever kept calling him clearlydid.
Freddie sank back on his heels, panting, lips swollen and slick. Nathan groaned, dragging himself off the wall, legs barely steady, and reached into his back pocket, swiping at his phone.
He answered, voice ragged. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute.”
“You fucking better be, son,”Ron barked down the line. “Three MOTs backed up, a Corsa with a seized clutch, and a Golfwith no spark on startup. That engine’s deader than disco and I’m not stripping it solo. Get your arse here.Now.”
Nathan scrubbed a hand through his hair.
Freddie rose from his crouch, eyes hooded, skin flushed, and leant in, mouth finding Nathan’s neck, planting kisses there, licking still-sensitive skin.
Nathan clenched his jaw, fighting a groan. He knew what Freddie was doing. The bastard.
“Alright,” he snapped, more at himself than at his dad. “I’ll be there.”
“You told me I could count on you.”
“I’m on my fucking way.”
