Page 71 of Puck Struck
Jesus, so much for my quest for control. I utter words that are completely uncharacteristic of me, but they’ve never been more honest. I can play it off all I want, but the truth is in my face, in my fantasies, and in my heart.
Without another word, I pull him by the hand and lead him up to the third floor where my master suite is located. It’s private, away from the rest of the house. Which is very fucking good because I want to hear Cam scream my name when I bury my dick deep inside of him.
Once my door is closed, I wrap my fingers around Can’s wrist and pull him close, my other hand reaching for the buttons on his shirt. I slide it off his shoulders, exposing his chiseled pecs and abs, the deep cuts of muscle adorned with intricate swirls of black ink. The designs snake around his shoulders and wind down his arms. My eyes lock onto the different artistic images that stare back at me. It’s almost a continuous loop of images, symbolizing a progression of sorts. My fingertips trace over them all, the pads tingling more as I progress over each design. I’ve seen them in the locker room, but to be this close, to touch them, to sweep my fingers over every intricate swirl of ink has my heart thrashing in my chest.
The images are artistic and camouflaged by thick thorned vines, which scream adversity. My heart thumps and thrums as I work my way through his life journey. His story, based on what I can tell, is one of survival and strength, but it wasn’t an easy one. He battled every step of the way. Hence, the thorns.
When I finally raise my eyes toward his, I can see the pain in his gaze, the shame, the regret.
“Do you think less of me for what I did?” he asks in a low voice.
Christ, I’ve never seen him so vulnerable, so raw and exposed. And suddenly, I feel like I’m looking beyond the façade of Cam Foster and seeing the scared young man who felt like he had no choices, no options. That his survival depended on doing something he loathed because nobody cared to give him the opportunities or the love he needed.
I wrap my arms around him, grazing his smooth skin as I bring my lips close to his. “No,” I say, my voice thick. “You were so strong and overcame so much. You were just a kid, and kids aren’t ever supposed to be put in positions like that. I could never think less of you. And fuck anyone who does. They don’t matter.”
He lets out the breath he’d been holding, like he needed that reassurance. My skin prickles with anger toward James and Keating for knocking him back into the darkness he’s tried so hard to escape.
I bring my lips to the side of his neck, gently nipping his skin and tracing every swirl of ink with my tongue. He relaxes into me with a low moan, his fingers fumbling with my belt buckle. And thank God for that because my cock is about to bust through my pants.
Cam brings the palm of his hand to his lips and licks it before grasping my throbbing dick. My teeth gently cling to his nipple, then travel back to his waiting mouth as I unzip his pants and reach inside his boxer briefs. The sensations coursing through me paralyze my movements for a second, stilling my hand. He knows just how to touch me, taunt me, drive me over the brink of sanity.
I shove his pants to the floor, my lips voraciously assaulting his as I stroke his thick shaft. Jerking into his hand, I feel mygroin tighten under his masterful grip, an eruption of tingles floating around deep in my core.
Our teeth crack together as our tongues engage in a delicious primal battle. I can’t get enough of him, I need to be closer, to feel him pull me tight and clench around me.
I need all of him.
“Fuck me, Logan,” he mutters against my mouth, again nipping my lip. “I want your cock deep inside of me. Make me feel everything.”
I kick off my pants and open my nightstand drawer to grab lube. I toss it onto the bed. We tumble onto the mattress, him on his back and me straddling him. I coat my fingers with the lube and slide them into his ass as I lean toward him. He loops an arm around my waist, digging his fingers into the small of my back. His other hand wraps tight around our cocks and he jerks them together, his eyes darkening with lust.
He writhes under me as I pump my fingers deeper into his heat. I crook them, angling them inside of him, and he cries out, trembling hard.
“I need a condom,” I whisper.
“Fuck the condom. We’re both clean. I need you now,” he whispers. “Oh fucking God,now.”
I don’t need any more of an invitation. I slide my fingers out and thrust my cock into him. “Fuck yes,” I breathe, his tight hole stretching around me. “You feel so good.”
He clamps down on my cock, pulling me deep, squeezing my dick as he does. Jesus Christ, I’m already about to lose it. I need to make this last. It’s too good, too perfect, like our bodies were made to be this connected.
I attack his lips again, harder this time, devouring him with desperation, like I need his breath to survive. I fuck him with long, deep strokes, our bodies slick with sweat. I grab his cock, precum spilling over the tops of my fingers as he guidesmy hips. He cries out again as I hit his spot. It takes every sliver of control for me to control my own orgasm, my entire body in flames, my blood burning a path through my veins.
With one last grunt, ropes of cum shoot at my chest and I can finally let go. Sparks ignite in my groin, shooting to the tip of my dick. After one more thrust, I explode inside of him, pumping him full of my hot cum.
I fall forward onto my elbows, boxing him in because I’m not ready to let him go. It takes me a few minutes to catch my breath, to even be able to form words because that orgasm completely short-circuited my brain.
“That was fucking crazy,” he murmurs a few seconds later, pushing back my hair. “You fuck like an eighteen-year-old. Color me shocked.”
I lift an eyebrow. “That’s your idea of pillow talk?”
He flashes a mischievous smirk. “No, it’s my idea of a compliment. Best sex of my fucking life.”
My face relaxes into a smile. “I guess I can’t be pissed at you for that.”
Cam lets out a low laugh and it lights me up. Maybe it’s the relaxed expression on his face, the deep pink flush coloring his cheeks, the bright smile that always makes my heart leap in my chest.
After I clean us both up, we collapse onto the bed. He rolls onto his side and slides against me. I hold him tight, dropping kisses on the back of his neck and shoulders. Not five minutes pass before his even breathing gives way to light snores.
