Page 42 of Two Guys One Puck
I give over and let him do what he wants, feeling how close he is. He swells in my mouth.
“I’m going to come, so if you don’t want it in your mouth…”
I refuse to pull off. He swallowed mine; I’m not letting him hold that over me for the rest of time. I double down, earning a grin from him.
Warmth floods my tongue. A lot, and I barely swallow it fast enough. He calls out, every part of his body tightening in a show. He’s vocal and sexy like I never knew a guy could be. Finally, he releases his hold, and I lick him a few times on the way off. He winces, clearly over sensitive, and I love it. I want to torture him through it, but I don’t.
“Christ.”
I lick my lips and grin. “Enjoy that?”
“Can’t be outdone. I love it.” He collapses back.
“Nope. I’ll never let you.” I flop down on the pillow next to him, staring at his mouth, still half wanting to hit him while the other half of me wants to flip on top of him and feed him my cock so he can’t say anything to piss me off.
“Well if it manifests like that, you can show me up any time you want.”
“I’m going to remind you that you said that.” I reach down to adjust my dick.
“Are you going to do it after all our games?” His brow ticks up.
“I might.”
He rolls on his side, bringing us closer. “Kiss me.”
“So fucking demanding.”
“Act like you don’t like it, sugar.”
I cup his face and barely kiss him. “Does it bother you, tasting your own cum?”
“Not at all. I licked it off your fingers, remember. Does it bother you?” His tone is sarcastic, but I ignore it, deepening the kiss.
I don’t know what I thought would happen, but I’m hard again. Rock fucking hard. And I don’t want to think about what that means either.
I have a lot of fucking questions, and at the top of that list: What the fuck is wrong with me?
“Stop using your brain.”
“What?” I say into his lips.
“Stop over thinking. You kiss like shit when you do.”
I shove his chest, rolling to my back. “Fuck off. You don’t know what’s in my head.”
“I know when your focus isn’t on me. Is not hard to know what you’re doing.” He rolls out of bed, walking to the bathroom.
“Are you seriously just going to leave me like this?” I gesture at my hard on.
He glances over his shoulder. “When your mind is elsewhere? Why not?” His tone is infuriating.
Rage churns in my chest. How can he just flip it on and off? “So you got off, and now you’re back to being an ass?” I get out of bed and shove into the bathroom behind him, turning on the shower.
“You want me to jack you off while you’re in your own head, and it’s probably about kissing a man? I’ll pass, buttercup.” He lifts his gaze to look at me in the mirror.
I scowl back because he’s right, but I refuse to admit it to him. “I’m allowed to have fucking feelings.”
“If you want to feel me, then you better actually feel me. You can spend time in your head questioning things later.” He uses the washcloth to wipe himself off, breaking eye contact.
