Page 97 of Finding Their Place

The same lust and longing coursing through me radiated from him, tangling with mine in the space between us.

“A long time,” I admitted, my voice ragged, “but I want it. Want you.”

A slow smirk lifted a corner of his lips, and holding my gaze, he sprawled out below me. He stuck his finger in his mouth, and I cursed, my insides coiling tight in readiness for his touch.

Spit-slickened, the pad of his index smeared over my hole—and the fucking brat shifted forward, taking my cock deep into his throat while breaching my body.

“Fuck!” I jolted upward, fighting to keep from fucking into his face. “Shit—Garrett. Fucking hell, man!”

He moaned, that smirk long gone from his lips stretched around my cock but still simmering in his eyes as he peered up over my torso.

Gorgeous. Absolutely fucking stunning…

A shift of his wrist twisted his finger up inside me, and I cursed again as he pressed against my prostate, shooting sparks, lightning sensations straight through the base of my spine ricocheting upward to short circuit my brain.

My head fell back, and I allowed Garrett to have control. To love on me—take care of me in a way no man had done before.

He held nothing back, sucking on my dick like a damn lollipop, making noises of appreciation over my pre-cum like my length was sweet, cherry flavored candy. Every deep reach of his finger into my body ramped up my need for more.

So. Much. More.

My groin throbbed, balls tight and high. I yanked his hair, pulling him off me before I shot down his tight throat.

He whined, and I chuckled through the haze of lust holding me captive.

“Need you,” I begged while holding his stare.

He flicked out his tongue, dragging it up my length.

My dick bobbed, more pre-cum oozing.

“Garrett…” A muscle ticked in my jaw—and he flashed a grin that bottomed my heart into my goddamn toes.

“Yes, Wyatt?” He licked again, suckling on just the head, tongue probing at my slit.

I groaned, searching beneath my pillow for the lube and condom I’d stashed earlier with the intention of having him.

This is better.

I handed them over, and he eyed the items while planting one last kiss on my cockhead.

He took both—and shifted his mouth lower, lathing over my asshole.

We groaned as one.

“Goddamnit, Garrett!” I cursed him out through clenched teeth, grabbing hold of the base of my dick to keep from coming.

He chuckled against my hole and rimmed me some more, not stopping until I writhed, begging for him to put me out of my misery. Too much need coursed through me—I couldn’t think. Couldn’t fucking breathe.

The snap of the cap and squirting of lube made my mouth dry, and I stared between my splayed thighs, watching Garrett sheath and lube up. He tossed aside the bottle and slid two fingers deep into my hole without preamble.

“Fuck.” My jaw clenched, neck arched. A delicious sting spread outward from where he invaded my body, and I panted as he spread his fingers, scissoring to open me up for him.

“You’re so fucking hot inside,” Garrett moaned the words.

He once more stared at my ass, his fingers probing deep, hitting my prostate and coiling my stomach up tight.

I hissed, and the brat chuckled again. “If you can’t handle two fingers, Wyatt, you’re in for a heap of discomfort when my dick fills you up.”

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