Page 2 of Wreck Me

My hips jerk as his hands slide between my legs, cupping my sack just how I would do it to myself. The head of my cockslides into his warm throat as he swallows around it. I can’t help but moan into her, pulling her body down further to drown out the noises flowing from me, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of hearing how good this feels.

Goddamn, he sucks me down like he’s trying to suck my soul through my cock, like I’m the best fucking thing he’s ever put in his mouth. He pulls back, lapping and sucking at my head before diving back down and repeating the process.

Fucking shiiit.

He pulls away just as I feel the first signs of my orgasm, my balls drawing up tight, the tingling at the base of my spine, my thighs twitching. Figuring he had enough playtime with my cock, I put a little more effort into the pussy I’m feasting on, eager to slip her over my cock to finish myself off as soon as she comes, as long as she’s okay with it.

I don’t notice that the stranger hadn’t walked away until my pants are roughly shoved down to my ankles, a pair of thick thighs straddling my own, the wiry hair of his bare legs rubbing against mine and catching me off guard, reminding me that it’s definitely a man touching me right now.

He fists my cock in his big palm again, stroking it brutally, still slick with his saliva. But then there’s a completely foreign sensation. What the hell is that? That’s not a hand or mouth. Holy shit. That’s a dick. On my dick. He has both of our cocks in one hand and is stroking them together.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

What the fuck is happening and why the fuck am I so into this? I’d blame it on alcohol, but Temptations has a firm two-drink policy, and I don’t drink more than one anyway. I never want to be anything less than clear-headed in sexual situations, consent being my number one priority—especially with my job. The last thing I need is someone falsely accusing me of misconduct.

The woman on me starts to shake, her pussy quivering as her orgasm moves through her, my mouth flooding with her cum. Her body slumps slightly forward as she slips off of me, having had her fill, and then I’m no longer blind to what’s happening in front of me. There’s no denying it. No ignoring it. I’m face-to-face with reality, unable to pretend something else is happening.

The man’s striking blue eyes are set on my own, heavily lidded and aroused as he pumps our cocks together. My heart trips over itself, a foreign sensation moving through my body that I don’t recognize.

I shift my eyes away, refusing to look into his while he jerks us both off, but not wanting it to stop.What the fuck is happening?Our partner saunters away and I’m left lying on the chaise as he fucks the life out of our dicks. His uncut cock is thicker than my own, but I’m slightly longer, my head red and angry as they glide against each other. He pumps his hand over our smooth flesh tightly, our balls lying together, nearly having me seeing stars.

“You gonna come for me?”

The fuck?

“Areyougonna come forme?” I hiss.

“I’ll do whatever you want me to do, lover.”

“I’m not your fucking lover,” I snap through clenched teeth, desperately trying to hang on to a shred of control.

He looks down at our cocks, letting spit fall from his mouth as his hands work it in as lube. His shirt is unbuttoned, revealing washboard abs that clench as he straddles me, his hips undulating, legs spread wide over my thighs. My balls start to draw up against his and I know he’s fucking got me. I’m going to come for this motherfucker.

His hands tighten around us as if he knows, squeezing our heads together brutally and twisting on every pass. It’sone of the hottest things I’ve ever seen, and I can’t explain why.

“Fuuuuck, I’m coming,” I moan as my vision fades to black, my abs tightening as I slightly lift my back off the lounge, my fingernails digging into the soft fabric cushion.

And do I fucking come. Ropes of it spurt out of the tip of my cock like a goddamn volcano erupting after being dormant for a century. My cum covers our dicks, my legs shaking under him as my orgasm takes over. He doesn’t stop his movements, jerking us easier now, using my cum as lube, but it doesn’t last much longer. Within a few more strokes, he’s following me over the edge of bliss, coming all over us, our milky white seed mingling together in a sticky mess over his hand and my abdomen. He groans as he unloads, a deep, masculine sound that is so rich and intriguing as it hits my ears.

The post-orgasm haze clears almost immediately and I realize what the fuck just happened as I scramble to get out from under him on the awkward surface of the chaise. The stranger’s hands grip my bare hips, strong, warm fingertips pinning me down below him. Fuck that shit.

“Time to get off, or I’ll move you,” I grunt.

This motherfucker just fucking smirks at me, the corner of his lip tipping up in a partial smile, an eyebrow raising.

I move quickly, thanks to years of professional boxing and MMA training with my brothers. I flip us so that he’s on his back and I’m out from under him. Releasing him and pulling up my pants quickly, I tuck my still-hard dick away and take a step back from the stranger without taking a second look at his reaction.

Just as I’m about to hit the front doors, ready to get the hell out of here before the panic gets to be too much, a large hand grips my bicep, pulling me into an alcove and shoving me against the wall. I could fight him off if I wanted to, but thisis the only damn place that I have to decompress and clear my head, and if I lose my membership because of this dick, we’re gonna have more problems than this one.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” I hiss quietly enough for him to hear me but not loud enough that it would alert anyone to a possible altercation.

“I don’t want to be done with you yet,” he states almost pleadingly. I laugh under my breath as his hands fall on either side of my head, caging me in. He starts to descend in the direction of my mouth but he’s reading this situation all damn wrong. Placing my hand on his chest, I give him a gentle shove back a step—not wanting to offend him per the rules of rejection at the club—but making damn sure my point is loud and clear.

“Yeah, well, we’re done here. I’m calling it a night. That was a one-and-done, man.”

“Doesn’t have to be.”

Fuck, he’s not making this easy. He’s definitely not supposed to be pushing so hard. How did this guy get a membership?

---