Page 93 of Bad Boy
“Please,” I moan, wanting it all. The thought of Remi sucking me off, then taking my hole again tonight makes my cock pulse.
My eyes roll into the back of my head when he swallows me down, bobbing his head quickly.
“Oh God,” I cry. He didn’t even give me a chance to work up to it. Just started sucking me hard.
He tightens the suction, pulling a long, drawn-out groan from me. My balls draw up and unload instantly. I don’t think he’s prepared for my cum to spurt into the back of his mouth, so he gags. His throat undulates against my cockhead as he swallows, and I come harder, load after load filling his mouth until it’s dribbling out.
He pulls off and swipes a finger across the corner of his mouth, scooping up my cum and holding it out for me. I lean in and suck his finger down to the knuckle, releasing it with a loud pop and swallowing my own spunk for him.
“Good boy,” he rumbles, making me whimper.
Why do I like that so much? What is wrong with me?
Remi stands, digging the heel of his palm into his erection, trying to adjust himself against his zipper.
“Let me take care of that for you.” My voice sounds low and husky and so unlike my normal tone that I giggle and clear my throat.
“Sorry. Um. Did you want me to help you with that?” I nod to the giant boner trying to escape his pants.
“Nah. It’ll keep me worked up. Angrier. Aggressive. Ready to kick Brandon’s ass so I can come home and fuck yours,” he teases andgah, his dirty words get me every time.
“Go get dressed,” he rumbles, and I jump out of the seat, semi-hard cock hanging between my legs as I scurry to grab a change of clothes for another fight night in the woods.
CHAPTERTHIRTY
REMI
“What? Don’t look at me like that, Preppy.” I lower my voice as I slip into the same side of the booth as Lincoln. “I can’t even touch you from all the way over there. It’s too far.”
I just finished the easiest fight of my fucking life, and now we’re grabbing a quick bite in Asheville before heading back to Lincoln’s place.
I had a sound strategy tonight. No hits to the face. Take Brandon down and make him submit MMA-style. I wasnotgoing to allow him to add another bruise to this handsome mug.
Clearly, he wasn’t expecting that. He was expecting a fistfight like they all do. I asked around. In Gus’s fight league, no one takes it to the ground. Most of these assholes are football players from Blue Ridge and one of the private schools here in Asheville Gus has a connection with. They may know how to punch and block, but their ground game is weak. Tonight proves that.
I had Brandon down in the dirt in the first five minutes and passed out in the next two. He refused to submit, so it’s his own fault he had to take a nap like a little bitch.
We didn't stick around for the fallout, the other fights, or the afterparty. It’s over. My winnings will be deposited into my bank account by Monday morning, and the only person I want to hang out with is sitting next to me.
“You know I have trouble keeping my hands to myself. And I’d rather enjoy my food than be miserable sitting all the way over there,” I tell Linc in a hushed whisper. “See? No one will even know if I do this.”
I slip my hand underneath the table and cup his junk lightly. He jerks and sputters, his eyes darting around the nearly empty diner.
“Remi,” he hisses under his breath. “W-what are you doin’?”
I remove my hand, and Linc visibly relaxes. “I’m just fucking with you.” I squeeze his thigh as our server comes over with a bright smile and big hair.
“Hey there, sugarplums. How y’all doin’ tonight?”
I glance from her nametag to her hot pink lips, bright blue eyeshadow, and bleach-blonde hair with bangs teased to heaven.
Jesus.Tammy Lynn isSouthern. And Tammy Lynn is stuck in the fucking eighties.
“We’re doing great, Miss Tammy. How’s your night been going?”
Even though she’s older than my mom, she blushes, straightening the little white apron tied around her waist.
“Oh. Well, it’s been alright, I suppose. Thanks for askin’. Now, what can I get for ya?” She smiles warmly, crinkling the skin around her eyes.
