Page 50 of Catcher's Lock
I close my eyes, blocking him out, but that makes it worse. Without him filling my vision, my already uncertain dick immediately starts to deflate.
I start to shift my hips back, fumbling for an apology, but Gem abruptly closes the distance between us and grips Benji by the hair.
“Watch the teeth,” he orders, dragging the younger man to his feet. “We’re gonna try this another way.”
“You promised to stay out of it,” I hiss.Please help me.
Something fathomless flashes across his face before he shuts it down. He knocks back the rest of his drink and lets the cup fall to the floor, then leans in and puts his lips to the boy’s ear.
“He told you to choke on it. You ready to stop pussying around?”
Benji tries to nod, gasping when Gem jerks his head back.
“Good. Three taps to safe out. My wrists, not his. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.”
Gem flicks his gaze to mine, gauging my reaction, but my brain is stuck on his fingers tangled in the blond hair. My neck strains in jealous sympathy, and my dick is wide awake for the first time all night. I don’t even remember the question, let alone have the power to process a response. Whatever Gem sees on my face must satisfy him, because he shoves the boy back to his knees.
“Good. Now open.”
Benji obeys, and the next thing I know, wet heat engulfs my cock. Gem braces his other arm on the wall above my shoulder and stares down in fascination as he slowly pushes Benji’s head forward until the boy’s nose brushes against my pelvis.
“Fuck,” I gasp, as muscles constrict and fire races up my spine.
“You like that?” A dark smile plays at the corners of Gem’s mouth, at odds with the cold depths of his eyes.
Benji’s fingers dig into my hips, and his throat convulses as the demon who was once my best friend holds him trapped for another eternal second. When Gem finally lets him suck in a breath, my own chest heaves as cool air rushes in to replace the scorching pressure on my cock.
“Want more? Don’t look at him,” Gem says when I glance down. “He has his signal. I’m askingyou. Do you want me to use this mouth to get you off? You want to spill down his tight,slutty throat while I tell him exactly how to take you apart?”
Sparks lick over my skin at the salacious promise in his voice.
Everything about this is monumentally fucked up.
I should run. Gather my fractured wits and the shreds of my pride and retreat to the dubious safety of the motel to lick my wounds. But we’ve been hovering over this abyss foryears, the time and distance between us nothing but a paltry illusion of safety. Of control.
He’s a Molotov cocktail splashed across my insides, and I don’t even feel the glass shatter beneath the heat of the flames.
“Yes.” I breathe the confession into the night with a shiver of surrender. Gem swallows, his Adam’s apple tracing a rough path down his neck.
“Fine. Then hold on.”
I press one hand against the wall and slip the other into Benji’s hair, brushing against Gem’s rough grip.
“You’re touching me,” he grits out. “Isn’t that against the rules?”
“Fuck you.” But there’s no real force to the words, and when I start to pull my hand back, he traps it with his thumb and uses the movement to slide Benji’s mouth back down my cock.
“Maybe later.” With a devilish wink, he tugs on the blond head again, freeing my dick with a pop. “Stick out your tongue,” he commands, and when Benji complies, Gem drops a thick trail of saliva into his waiting mouth. “Now get him all wet and sloppy for me.”
I always imagined sex would be abouttouch. About hands and cocks and skin and ass. But the mouth on my dick is almost an afterthought—a conduit for all my other senses to fill withhim. I’m melting in the scent of leather and bourbon, the taste of orange Tic Tacs on his breath, the pure fucking filth that drips from his mouth into my ears.
“When it’s my turn, I’m gonna use this—” He flashes the barbell in his tongue. “—to drive you out of your fucking mind. It’s gonna be so good you won’t remember having any other mouth on your cock.”
It’s enough to shatter the last of my reserve. My hips stutter, and then I’m thrusting recklessly, chasing the rasp of his voice down through the furnace of fantasy.
Somewhere in the mess and the madness, my fingers have tangled with his, the rough texture more vital than the suction on my cock or the hot breath along my balls. His nails bite into my skin, possessive pricks of pleasure, and everything tightens, coils, threatens to burst.
