Page 113 of Jaded

I can't breathe.

“Yes,” I groan. “Especially you.”

“Good,” he says. “Because I want you to watch.”

And then his fingers scoot beneath the elastic, and in one quick swoop, he pulls my underwear down.

Exposing my cock to his waiting mouth.

“Look at this beautiful cock,” he murmurs, and he licks down the length of it.

“Oh, fuck.” My head thumps against the door because the feel of him, the soft skate of his tongue down me, is like having my nerves lit on fire—an inferno of pleasure so strong it’s almost painful. My pulse thuds against my ears, my breaths ragged against my too-tight throat.

His tongue curls under the head, and his mouth closes over the top. Holy hell. It’s all I can do to keep breathing as he slides slowly over my length, because my body simultaneously wants to come and to never stop feeling this fucking bliss.

Watching Olli James bob on my cock might be the hottest thing I've ever seen. “Shit. Shit. More.”

He pulls back, just enough to put a hairsbreadth between my cock and his beautiful, beautiful fucking mouth. “Oh, there will be more.”

His hands slide from my upper thighs, drop down to the button of his jeans. And kneeling in front of me as I watch, Olli unbuttons.

Unzips.

Slides his underwear down his hips to expose his cock to my waiting gaze.

He’s bigger than me. Not that I’ve ever compared cock lengths, but I’m bigger than average, and he’s longer and thicker. But the thought—all thought—vanishes as he lifts his hand to spit into his palm, and his fingers close around the base of that thick length.

“Shit,” I murmur.

“You like that?” he asks, fingers sliding slowly up that fat cock, rendering me absolutely and utterly speechless. Which is hotter, watching him suck me or watching him stroke himself?

When his mouth closes over the head of my cock again, I'm spared having to decide. That warm, wet mouth, the press of his tongue. The soft suction around me—shit. Hell. Fuck.

I don’t know where to fucking look—at his mouth on my skin, his head bobbing gently up and down, taking a little more of my length each time, or his fingers shuffling over the entirety of his massive cock. Both are beautiful, erotic, have me turned on to the point of bursting.

“Fuck, fuck,” I murmur, and I tangle my fingers into his hair, because I need to feel him under my hands even as I feel him along my cock, sending tingling needles of pleasure through my body. “Oh, fuck, that’s so good.”

Without warning, he takes me all the way down. So I hit the back of his throat, feel the squeeze of his swallow, and I lose control.

One moment, groaning, the next, coming. Just like that. My head hits the door behind me, my body seizing as the pleasure climbs through me in a roaring wave, a waterfall, a torrent of sensation. I don’t know if I cry out his name or simply moan, don’t even feel him swallowing down my release.

“Oh shit, oh my God,” I manage through heaved breaths. My fingers still tangle in his hair as he swallows and sucks, pulling every last drop of the orgasm from me with a brutal force that leaves me cleaned out, hollow.

Sated.

Suddenly, he jerks back, scrambling for his shirt. “Oh, fuck.”

His fist gives one final pump, and his head tilts backwards, mouth rounding into an O of bliss. His face shatters as he comes—and it’s that I’m watching, not him spilling into his discarded shirt. The way all his reservations, all his masks, vanish into the ether and I’m looking at the real Oliver James, Olli laid bare.

I think it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.

I’d tell him so if I could breathe, move, think, find any kind of muscle response in any part of my boneless body.

“Holy hell.” Olli shifts from his knees to his ass, leans against the wall. His breaths escape in ragged pants. “I think . . . I need . . . a nap. Can you carry me to bed?”

“No way,” I finally manage, and I slide down against the door until my own ass hits the floor. My pants are still undone, underwear still down, half-limp cock hanging. My jeans-clad knee taps against his. “I’m dead. That was . . .”

“Don’t tell me if it was bad,” Olli lays his head against the wall, eyes fluttering closed, and I can’t look away from the splay of his lashes against his cheeks. “Let me pretend like it was as good for you as it was for me.”

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