Page 15 of Grave Misgivings
I swallow, following temptation.
Fantasy is just fantasy, right?
It doesn’t mean anything.
At least, that’s what I tell myself.
I open my eyes, catching sight of myself, and I watch the way my hips move, slow and deliberate, as I pump my cock.
I swallow hard, but I don’t stop.
I can’t stop.
From this angle, it looks like Icouldbe fucking someone.
“You like that?” I ask my reflection. He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t have to.
I close my eyes as I imagine sliding my cock into a wet, warm mouth.
My mind wanders to Hell.
Mateo said it was gorgeous downstairs, and I wonder what Rex would look like in the tight red shorts and black harnesses the devil attendants were wearing.
I look down at him in my psyche, at the way he kneels before me. Waiting.
I’m so close.
So fucking close.
My pace quickens, but it isn’t enough.
I groan, because this is how it always is.
Getting there isn’t easy, even when I want to. And I want to.
So fucking bad.
I miss you.
The voice that fills my head is familiar. Soft, but masculine.
Different than the voice I remember, but somehow similar still.
Sparkling green eyes gaze up at me, and Rex disappears.
Bright green eyes framed by black eyeliner and thick lashes. Eyes I knew very well, once.
I bite my lip, squeezing my eyes shut.
But it’s no use.
My alcohol-ridden brain chases the rabbit as my cock throbs and my rhythm starts to become a bit erratic.
“Show me how bad you missed me,” I grit between my teeth, chasing my elusive orgasm.
I come. Hard, and fast.
“Fuck!” I curse as the guilt settles. I open my eyes, my breath coming in rapid pants, my heart filling with panic and anxiety. I catch my flushed face in the mirror as I hold my hand over my pulsing cock.
