Page 37 of M.M. Scrooge
In the timesince we’ve dated, Ash has learned how to unbutton and unzip jeans with just his teeth. Could Daniel do that? It’s a sight to behold. Pink lips shining with spit, white teeth forcing the garment open, eyes darkened with lust glancing up to meet mine.
He’s got me shivering with need already, mouthing at my cock through the thin fabric of my briefs as I ponder what to do with my hands.
Can I dig them into his hair like Drake did? Or is that weird? Do only boyfriends get hair-tugging privileges?
His tongue is hot, even as the wet patch he leaves in his wake grows cold. Fuck it. I slide my fingers into his hair on either side of his head and lightly scratch his scalp with my nails. This earns me a spine-tingling moan that hits my ears first, then takes my whole body with it.
Drake’s gone to the kitchen, mumbling something about a drink. I’ve got to stop trying to figure them out. Especially since there’s every indication I’m about to receive a blow job right where I sit.
Mind, off. Dick, activate!
Ash grips my waistband and yanks. I lift my hips and draw my legs together so he can slide the jeans down my body. Then I rid myself of my T-shirt for good measure. Clothes discarded to the floor, I bask in my nakedness. My cock arches proudly toward me, leaking at the tip.Hello there, big boy. Ready for more?
Ash catches me preening and rolls his eyes. “Some things never change.”
“Why would you want them to?”
“Didn’t say that I did.”
I open my legs wider, making more room for him between them. To my delight, he settles back in and slurps my cockhead into his mouth.
God, that’s nice.
Drake returns, tumbler in hand. A dark liquid swirls within as ice clinks the glass. Doesn’t surprise me he’s a spirits sort of guy. He has that look about him.
He watches Ash suck me with an indifferent expression. I can’t read him. Drake is an enigma. He looks perfectly comfortable standing naked in the middle of his own living room, and why shouldn’t he?
I, on the other hand, am a storm of mixed emotions. My libido is screaming yes. I want to come down Ash’s throat more than I want my next breath. But I want to keep my ass parked exactly where it is. Butt down, cock up, that’s how I like it. I’m regretting agreeing to being spanked already.
Maybe they’ll forget.
Drake focuses on my face like he’s trying to read my mind. We’re locked in a weird staring contest while the slick sounds of an A-plus blow job fill the space between us. I run my hands over Ash’s shoulders. His arms are locked around my meaty thighs. Feels good. I thrust into his mouth, and he gags. All the while, I watch Drake for a reaction and get none.
Who is this guy?
I’ve had enough of him. I close my eyes. Drake can win our staring contest for all I care. I’m about to get off, so my attention is riveted to that.
Ash and I establish a decadent rhythm of push and pull. He lets me fuck his face like the good boy he is. I pet him and moan for him, writhing on the couch like a whore. The leather sticks to my skin, but I don’t care. Sweat gathers above my lip. I lick it off.
My balls draw gloriously tight, and I’m about to bust my load. But Drake says, “Stop,” and Ash pulls off my cock like it’s suddenly made of poison.
“Fucking what?” I’m literally wincing. I was so close. To be denied feels like punishment. I grab my dick.
“No, Max. Hands off. That’s mine tonight.”
I blink. Did I just hear that right? “Dude—”
“Both of you, up.”
Ash rises gracefully, but I stay where I am and pout. Fuck this. I should never have said yes to them.
“If you don’t get up, I’ll spank something other than your ass, and I guarantee you won’t like it.”
Threats? The urge to argue is about to win when Ash grabs my biceps and tugs. “You promised.”
Fine. I stand. Drake takes a slow swallow of his drink, sets the glass on a fancy carved wooden coaster, and steals my spot on the couch, sitting center, legs spread. He pats his thighs. “Right here, Max. It’s time.”
My guts flip in my stomach. Doubt rumbles like thunder through my veins, low and ominous.
