Page 76 of A Voice In Chains
His firm bare ass feels amazing in my hands, and I dig my fingers into the warm flesh until he juts his hips forward with a grunt. His shirt is in the way, so I pull it up before running my hands over every inch of smooth skin.
His muscles flex and ripple enticingly beneath my touch—I want to kiss every inch of him. But first, I need him to destroy me. Right here on the steps.
Arkin’s lips leave a tingling path of biting kisses down my stubbly chin and throat and across my chest. Then lower still.
When he finally takes me in his mouth, I groan deep in my chest, knowing there’s a real chance I might blow my load prematurely if he keeps sucking me this good.
His chest rumbles as I pull on his hair, squirming.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.Why is he so good at this? The last thing I want is to come too soon, but he makes it so damn hard. As he relaxes his throat around my throbbing length, my balls draw up tight.
Luckily, before I tip over the edge, he crawls up my body again, and I pull him closer by his firm ass.
We move as one, grinding our cocks together there on the steps until we’re both panting hard, equally aroused. I need him to take me upstairs and fuck me. I need him inside me. But I won’t let him stop now to grab lube.
“I’m close, baby,” I say, as my cock rolls against his.
He’s watching my face with heavy eyes while his big body crashes into mine again, and again, and again. My back will be bruised after this but fuck if I care. If anything, I want the proof of his animalistic desire. I want the proof of his claiming.
His chest rumbles again like an incoming storm, and he grabs hold of my chin.
Seconds later, hot pulsing cum sprays my chest and throat.
“Fuck, baby, that’s it. Come all over me,” I pant, and he turns my head to the side and bites my neck.
The sharp pain tips me over the edge, and as a wave of pleasure crashes into me, my vision blackens. No one fucks like Arkin. No one has ever made me come as hard as him.
Moaning, I arch my back while he swallows his name on my lips with maddening kisses—kisses that prolong my climax until I’m sure my empty nuts have shriveled up.
“Zachary?”
At the sound of my father’s weak voice, I jump ten feet into the air, shoving Arkin off me.
He falls back, but unlike me, he seems calm, and when he locks eyes with my father, his jaw hardens.
He tucks himself away while I struggle to do the same because my hands tremble too much. Suddenly sick with anxiety, I manage to get my jeans zipped and somehow stand up on wobbly legs.
My dad is here. What the hell is he doing back? He’s not supposed to be back until much later.
I can barely meet his eyes.
For long minutes, he bounces his gaze between us as though he can’t believe what he witnessed here. The surprise shifts to fury, and he sets his jaw. “Go upstairs and pack your bags,” he says to Arkin, and my eyes widen.
“What?” I blurt. “No…”
Dad’s furious expression lands on me, and in hindsight, I should have realized he’d never be okay with my sexuality. The way he looks at me now cuts me worse than I could have imagined.
He’s disgusted.
Without looking away from me, he addresses Arkin. “Pack your bags. You’re leaving tonight. I don’t want you anywhere near my family.”
I crack down the middle. A swinging machete to the chest would have hurt less.
When Arkin starts upstairs, panic fills me, and I hurry up after him, stumbling on the steps and knocking my knee. Sick with worry, the pain barely registers. Arkin can’t leave. I love him. I need him here.
Upstairs, I tear after him, darting ahead to block the door. “Don’t listen to him. You’re not leaving.”
Arkin slows to a stop with a careful expression on his face. I can see the mask he holds up to protect himself, but I won’t let him hide, so I grab his hand and place it over my heart.
