Page 7 of Uncharted Desires
The guys are now fucking feverishly, and it's nothing how I imagined it would be. Maybe that's because I've never imagined that in the first place. It’s both intimate and raw at the same time. Primal. Nothing like anything I'd ever experienced.
I close my eyes and try to put myself in their position. Just to try it for size. I have no idea which one I'd even be. The one on the top? Or the one on the bottom, taking the other's dick like he was made to do just that?
Fuck.
My cock throbs at the thought. I guess that's my answer. And before I can get my brain to squash my twisted urges and tell them to shut the fuck up before I can make better of it, I say, "But what if I'm not?"
It comes out almost like a whisper, and it's the slight shift in front of me, the tiny movement I have no business noticing, that lets me know Sawyer heard me. I swallow. He stares right back at me, face still close to mine. Fire dances in his eyes as he raises one brow. I almost hate myself for noticing.
"What if I'm not sure?"
My heart is about to jump out of my chest, and it's becoming difficult to breathe. He regards me for a moment before tilting his head to the side, the hair on his forehead shifting. I hate myself for noticing that, too. "Then I guess you better figure it out."
"How?" I don't know why I'm asking him that. Of all people. It's like I got dragged into some alternative dimension since we entered the room. A dimension in which it's Sawyer's answers I'm seeking.
And then I let out a bark of a moan, a chipped sound that shouldn't come out of a human as Sawyer doesn't answer verbally, and the hot palm he's been using to massage himself lands on my rigid shaft and gives me a strong, firm stroke over my clothes.
My ass is pressed to the wall, and it’s as though I’m simultaneously trying to get away and push into his touch. And now I’m sure I’m not only in an alternate dimension—I’m in an entirely alternate universe.
My cock leaks pre-cum as Sawyer moves his palm up and down, once, twice, three times. And it’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.
His grip on me is firm, sure. Magnetic and infuriating all at once. And I just can’t take it.
I stop breathing and grab his wrist. But I don’t move his hand away. I keep it still, firmly close to my body, while my eyes search his, looking for answers. How the fuck did I get here?
He doesn’t move or talk. He doesn’t step back or push forward, staring at me intently, and it’s like we have some bizarre, wordless conversation, and if I were to guess, I’m sure he’s telling me,You can deny it all you want, but the way your cock twitches under my palm right now says something else altogether.
Or maybe he doesn’t think that. Maybe it’s just me, thinking the words I know to be true.
Time ceases to exist as we stay like that, trapped in this twisted status quo, with my fingers digging into his wrist and his circling my weeping cock.
And the stare. Of all the things that go on, it’s the stare I can’t handle the most.
I’m the one to break eye contact first. I’m sure he’ll interpret it as some kind of victory, but frankly? I no longer give a fuck.
My gaze lands on the guys I find all too familiar at this point. It’s a giant room, with action going on in every corner. Yet somehow, they’re the ones I’m drawn to the most.
“Fuck,” I mutter at the sight.
The guy on the bottom is reclined on his elbows, his chest covered with cum, as the other half-stands, half-kneels before him, jerking his cock feverishly, ready to blow his load onto the other’s face.
It’s too much. I close my eyes and I still see them.
And then, there’s Sawyer.
Stone statute in front of me and the only indication he’s a living creature is the heat his body emits and the gentle puffs of air on my face as he breathes.
And then I give up.
I fucking give up as I let go of his wrist, flatten my palm over his and press, urging him to move, to give me more of what I know I will never forget and always try to forget at the same time.
I shudder as his fingers curl around the head of my cock, cursing the fabric separating his skin from mine. My eyes are shut, and my head drops back, bumping against the wall behind me, my mouth ajar, my staggered breaths escaping in irregular bursts as he squeezes my cock and twists his palm.
A string of incoherent curses escapes me as my balls draw close to my body. I don’t care where I am. I don’t care who’s watching. And I don’t even care who’s doing it to me. Or maybe that’s all I care about.
Everything stops then. My eyes snap open to Sawyer standing two feet away from me, his heat gone, his touch gone, my brain empty.
Breathing heavily, I open my mouth to ask what the fuck is going on, but nothing comes up.
