Page 89 of Whips and Chains
Whip pushed my head away, and I found myself staring up at him.
“What?” I narrowed my eyes. “If you tell me I’m doing it wrong, I swear I’m gonna punch you in the junk.”
He rolled his eyes. “You aren’t doing it wrong, dickhead. But you’re hard again.”
Heat rushed up the back of my neck, and I had no real idea why. “So? It’s a biological response.”
“Okay, sure, keeping telling yourself that. Let’s say it’s a biological response that I want to make you come again then.”
The heat in my neck flamed across the sides, up my throat and straight into my cheeks. It only blazed brighter when Whip leaned across the bed and found the promised bottle of lube from X’s top drawer.
I eyed it with my nose wrinkled. “You know that’s probably covered in—”
Whip shut me up with a glare. “Don’t say it.”
Fair call.
He lay out on the bed, the bottle of lube on the mattress between us.
Fuck, he looked good. All muscled legs and abs and biceps. He wasn’t as bulky as I was, but he wasn’t as slim as X was either. He had the solid body that came to a guy in his thirties, but he’d kept it.
And he had the sort of cock all guys wished for. Big and thick.
Suddenly, the thought of him fucking me with that thing jumped into my mind.
My dick kicked at the very thought, and it was like a damn magnet, drawing me down onto the bed next to him, even though the idea was also fucking terrifying.
There was no way I was taking that thing in the ass.
And yet I was lying down next to him.
It was him who reached for me, grabbing me by the back of the neck and drawing me onto my side so we were facing each other. I moved so stiffly I was practically robotic.
Whip noticed and only shifted in closer. “Stop fucking thinking.”
“I’m not.”
“Bullshit. Your every thought is written all over your face. I’m not gonna shove my cock in your ass, Levi. Calm down.”
The reassurance should have helped me relax.
And yet the feeling that rushed in was disappointment.
Yeah, wasn’t fucking going to admit that one to him either.
He studied me. “Do you want to talk about the prison? What happened to you there?”
Oh, fuck off. I was not doing that with him. He could go play therapist with Doc. “I’d rather bite off my own dick that talk about that with you.”
He sniggered. “Whatever, Levi.”
I hated that I found myself leaning in to kiss him again. Told myself it was just to shut him up because I hated that he could read me, while I still couldn’t read him. At least when we were kissing or I had my hand around his dick, I understood him. I felt the way he thrust into my lubed-up hand, and heard his moans and saw the sharp intake of breath when I rolled him onto his back and covered his body with mine. He didn’t need to say a word for me to know what he wanted. What he felt.
It was obvious.
Because I wanted it too.
I groaned, burying my face in his neck and sucking him there while he writhed beneath me.
