Page 115 of Cloudy With a Chance of Bad Decisions

“Ohmygod.” Another flex of his hips.

“I like to feel it when I sit down the next day—” It was impossible not to egg him on when he was like this. Even if the filth coming out of my mouthwas as foreign as the cock in my hand. It wasn’t a lie though. It was the truth—a truth I’d never felt safe to tell anyone else.

“You would, wouldn’t you? Jesus with those legs and that ass—you’re made to be pounded into.” I squeezed Alex’s dick in reply and he made another pitiful sound, bucking into my grip. He’d been under the impression he had the upper hand when he really did not.

My hand slipped lower, cupping his sac overtop of fabric. Alex made a sound like he was dying. I’d never felt more powerful in all my life than I did then, holding Alex by the balls, literally.

“I like to be bred, Alex,” I added, voice shaking—because I’d never admitted this out loud. “Like to be fucked full and leaking.”

“I’d put a baby in you so fucking fast,” Alex blurted. “Jesus, I’d keep you pregnant twenty-four-seven if I could.”

Now it was my turn to whine.

Apparently, Alex and I shared kinks as easily as we shared wine bottles. My own hips canted up, and Alex made a hungry sound as my hand tightened on his sac. “If we’re not having sex, I need to know likerightnow,” Alex gasped out. “I didn’t mean to initiate this—I meant to respect your boundaries. But holy fuck, Georgie. You’re like goddamn ecstasy or something.”

“Again with the talk of drugs.”

“George.” Alex’s voice snapped. It wasn’t angry so much as it was a warning. I’d never heard Alex do that and it was shocking to say the least. Maybe it should have upset me, or scared me—because Brendon had been dominant that way too, but it didn’t. Instead, a little thrill zinged through my body.

“Alex,” I drawled, softening my grip on his dick.

His nostrils flared, and our gazes met.

A beat passed as a silent war waged between us—and then Alex’s lips were on mine, somehow even hungrier than before. I slipped my hand inside his pants, fumbling beneath the elastic as he swore against my mouth.

“Condom?” I croaked.

“I’m good. Are you?”

“I am.”

When my fingers finally wrapped around his bare dick it took everything I had not to cum. He was just so…fuckinghuge. Jesus Christ. Easily the biggest I’d ever been with. Now I knew why he always spread his legs when he sat down. This thing was a goddamn monster. Thick and throbbing and sticky at the tip. Like he’d been leaking the last hour, leaving a wet patch in his underwear.

“Ohmygod,” Alex gasped, spreading his legs before flexing his hips into my grip. It was a bit dry. Of course it was. Neither of us had brought lube up here, but Alex didn’t seem to mind. His precum slicked the way enough, if the grunts against my mouth were any indicator. He enjoyed the snug scrape of my hand as I stroked him from root to tip, doing my best to smear the precum around.

The damp patch on his boxers where his cock had touched kept brushing my hand. Normally, that was something that would bother me. At least, with anyone else. With him, I found I didn’t mind, so engrossed in getting him off that the only thoughts in my head revolved around how fast, and how soon I could get this fucking monster inside my ass.

Alex’s hips bucked forward, grinding into my grip as he dropped his head, his breath puffing against my throat. “I’m not going to last,” he managed, riding my hand. The drag of his velvety skin tickled the pads of my fingers, making me feel frenzied. I wanted to see him. Didn’t want to simply touch. “Jesus Christ, you’re perfect.”

No one else had ever called meperfectbefore.

And I would’ve basked in it if I weren’t so eager to make him come.Snap, snap, snap,went Alex’s hips, fucking into me with a brutal grace that belonged in the wild—not here, in the relative safety of the campgrounds. He snarled, head tossing back, teeth bared.

I tightened my grip, his crown nudging against my palm—and then hewas coming, spilling all over my fist and the inside of his pants. Alex losing control was a sight to behold. His head tossed back, big chest quaking with every desperate breath. His eyes, normally so full of mischief, were a flat, hungry black.

He rode my hand a few more times, slippery crown rubbing at my skin before I pulled my hand free of his boxers with a grimace. My wrist kind of hurt from the angle. And my palm was messy—not at all pleasant. Especially as his cum began to cool.

Alex caught my wrist before I could wipe myself clean on the grass. “No,” he said, voice like gravel.

“Alex,” I said, glaring at him. “My hand is?—”

“You’re going to lick it up.” Alex sounded so sure of himself I automatically wanted to argue.

“No, I’m not,” I huffed. But I didn’t protest whatsoever as he forced my hand toward my mouth. There was a question in his gaze. It was clear he didn’t want me to actually follow through if it bothered me. But… Christ.

It didn’t.

Grimacing, I flattened my tongue along my palm, scooping up the ribbons of cum.

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