Page 30 of Beneath Cherry Blossom Memories

He moans loudly, banging his fist and then slamming his teeth over his lower lip. “Fuck,” he pants when I swallow around him.

His other hand holds the back of my head, guiding me up and down on his thick cock. I let him use my mouth, peeking up through my lashes while spit dribbles down his length. His musk fills my nose, and his taste burns my tongue.

Post-show Phoenix is dirty, and I’ve never wanted anything as badly as I want this.

I grab the backs of his thighs, stuffing him down my throat until it hurts. My gag reflex triggers, but I breathe through it.He tastes like sweat, salt, and all the good missing from my world.

“Suck my balls, Eli,” he orders, aggressively removing me from his dick. He shoves down his boxers and pushes my head to where he wants. I don’t ever remember him using me so roughly before. Probably because it was always the other way around. I latch onto one of his balls, and his head tosses back. “Harder.”

I suck harder.

“The other one.”

I move to the other, trying not to whimper. He's pissed but so needy he can't seem to stop himself. I savor every fucking second.

While I work his balls, he fists his cock and jerks himself. “Open,” he growls, angling his cockhead towards my lips. I part them, goosebumps exploding everywhere. “Don’t move.”

My lashes flutter, the need to rub my dick intensifying. He’s so hot like this. All dominant and in control. “Paint me, baby,” I rasp.

He grunts, fist gliding over his inflamed cock. Reaching up to roll his balls in my hand, my stomach swoops as I take in his pleasure, the tangled strands slipping free of his ponytail and the flex in his forearm. I want to lick him, press open-mouthed kisses to his dick, but he told me not to move. My tongue feels dry as I hold it out, holding his lust-drunk gaze.

“Fuck,” he moans, and his cock shoots off. Cum lands on my cheek, nose, and upper lip. I lean forward to clean him, eagerly lapping the rest that clings to the tip. His lashes flutter for a moment before he hisses—his face twists as his chest heaves.

“Shit,” he says, eyes wide, and backs up. “Fuck. Fuck.Fuck, Eli!” Quickly stuffing himself back in his boxers and looking horrified, he zips up his pants.

I lick my upper lip, so fucking happy that my eyes burn. “It’s okay,” I tell him, standing on wobbly legs, all the blood in my body rushing to my dick. I palm myself, wincing with how hard I am.

“It’s not okay! Nothing about this is okay. What about Leon? What about yourboyfriend?”

I remove my shirt, turn it inside out, and wipe my face. “Don’t worry about him. He doesn’t matter.”

My stomach clenches even as I say it. Phoenix matters more to me. I turn my shirt the correct way and put it back on, ignoring the wet spots from his cum sticking to my stomach. He glares at me like I just shot his cat.

“Nothing does matter, does it? Only getting high and fucking with people.”

I stalk over to him. “Don’t act so fucking noble, Phoenix. Not when you fucked my throat and used me like a whore.” And, like always, he’s silent. I guess he didn’t expect to be called out like that. “I’m a lot of things,” I say, voice low, “but I’m the one thing you won’t ever get rid of. And I truly believe that you’d hurt a lot of people just if it meant being able to keep me.”

“You’re wrong,” he says, shaking his head. “That’s a move only you would make.”

“Is it, though?”

Clenching his jaw, he twists the knob, the lock popping out, and drops his eyes to the floor. “This isn’t happening again.”

“It will. It'll keep happening because this is us, baby. We aren't living unless this continues.”

His throat bobs. Once. Twice. “No, Eli. That's just you.”

And then I watch him leave.

Phoenix

Nightmares

You know where this goes.

How could you let this happen?

He doesn’t fucking CARE!

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