Page 73 of Filthy and the Beast

“Oh fuck,” I groan, leaning back against the armrest. “That feels so good. What the fuck?”

“I know what it’s like to be on your feet all day.” Chuckling, his thumb rolls across the bottom of my foot. “Just relax.”

I sink into the couch. “No more sex. We’re sticking to foot rubs from now on.”

He growls. “Hey.”

“Okay.” My laugh turns into a low moan. “Just more foot rubs with the sex, please.”

Enzo massages my toes. “Okay.”

I try to keep my eyes open to watch the nature documentary, but very quickly, Enzo’s strong, steady hands guide me to a deep, long sleep.

CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR

ENZO

“Oh fuck! Thatbeard.”

Damian’s sprawled face-down on the couch, his voice muffled in a pillow. One foot on the ground and the other knee on the cushions, with my hand snaking up his belly, I devour Damian’s asshole.

Thunder crashes. Rain's been pouring all day, and ever since he made a flirty comment, I’ve only been able to think about this.

I’ve got my mouth on his hole.

And fuck. He tastes so good.

Musky and sweet. Damian’s cheeks are soft, faintly shadowed with downy hair. I lick my tongue up his entrance, rubbing it fat and wet against his hole. His rim clenches, tight against my mouth, and Damian groans, stroking himself.

Never would have imagined how much I like this. How good burying my mouth there and driving him wild feels. The twitch of his rim is strange, but the longer I keep my tongue in place, the more I like the way his hole tugs me in.

Giving himself to me and taking charge at the same time, Damian thrust his hips back.

My dick throbs, painfully hard and leaking fat drops of precum. When I can’t take it any longer, I tear my lips away and crawl up on his back. Damian trembles as I rub my hands all over him. Once I shove my erection between his thighs, his lubed-up fist grips our shafts together.

“So fucking hot,” I growl. Desperate to feel every tremble, I grope his pecs and pull him to me. Our sweaty bodies slap together as he jerks us, and I groan at the relief of his touch.

I press my lips to his ear. “How do you want to come?”

Damian twists his head to kiss me. “Like this. Kissing you.”

I close my mouth over his, taking his lips deep and hard. Somehow, we find our way to face each other. Damian strokes the bottom of my erection, and I grab his fist in mine so we’re pumping and jerking together. Still kissing him and thrusting from my hips, my thumb works his sticky crown, and the couch creaks on the floor, the side table shaking.

Something cold hits the back of my neck.

It happens again. Cold and wet.

I growl, fighting to hold it together as an orgasm threatens to shatter me apart. My tongue thrusts against Damian’s, and I find his rhythm, losing my mind, needing him to climax. I hold out as long as I can. When I come undone and ejaculate, convulsing hard, Damian moans and shoots his load, too.

We fall to the couch together. Barely able to think, I’m gasping for breath and dizzy.

“What?” Damian sits up, wiping his forehead. “What was that?”

I sit up, too, and immediately, a fat drop of something wet lands on my head.

“Shit.” I stand, pulling Damian into my arms and lifting him from the couch. Laughing, he quickly gets his feet back on the ground.

“I thought you were sweating on me at first.” He wipes his head again. “And then I thought wait a second. Sweat isn’t cold.”

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