Page 34 of Egg Me On

I wondered if Leo had really driven all the way from Kansas just to confront me about the photo. Probably. It would be just like him—impulsive when it came to protecting the family image, calculating in everything else. But as I stood there, surrounded by the familiar smells of motor oil and metal, Aiden's hand warm in mine, I realized something profound.

I didn't care. I just needed to thank him. For every single thing he’d said.

Chapter 13

Aiden

Cash's fingers circled mywrist like a vise, his grip just shy of painful as he dragged me across the shop floor. His face was carved from stone, jaw clenched, eyes burning with something I couldn't name—anger, desire, fear, all of it swirling together in a storm I wanted no part of. Or maybe I wanted all of it. I was suddenly certain Cash blamed me for the confrontation that had just unfolded in front of his coworkers.

"Cash, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—" I started, stumbling over my words as he shoved open the bathroom door.

He didn't respond, just pulled me inside and kicked the door shut behind us, the heavy metal thudding with finality, then reached out and turned the deadbolt.

The overhead fluorescents flickered and buzzed, casting harsh shadows across the angles of his face, making him look dangerous in a way that sent a forbidden thrill through me despite my fear. The bathroom was all industrial concrete and metal, the cold efficiency of it amplifying the echo of our breathing—mine quick and shallow, his deep and controlled.

When the lock clicked into place, I braced myself for the explosion, for harsh words, for blame. Instead, Cash turned to me, his eyes dark with an emotion I couldn't read, and dropped to his knees on the hard concrete floor.

"What are you—" The question died in my throat as his hands went straight to my belt, fingers working the buckle. Understanding crashed over me in a wave of heat that left me dizzy. "Oh. I mean, yeah, I feel a bit fired up, too. But do you want to talk?"

He didn't look up, didn't speak, just tugged my jeans and boxers down in one rough motion. My cock sprang free, already hardening from the mere proximity of him, from the shocking reality of Cash Upton on his knees before me. He finally looked up, holding my gaze for one breath-stealing moment before leaning forward and taking me into his mouth without hesitation.

"Fuck," I gasped, my head falling back against the tile wall with a thud I barely registered. The wet heat of his mouth engulfed me, inexpert but eager in a way that made my knees weak. His technique was clumsy—too much suction, then not enough, teeth occasionally scraping in a way that walked the knife's edgebetween pleasure and pain—but what he lacked in skill he made up for in raw enthusiasm.

His hands gripped my hips, pinning me against the wall, thumbs digging into the hollows beside my hip bones with bruising force. The slight pain only heightened the pleasure, grounding me in the moment, in the impossible reality of Cash Upton sucking my cock in the FRMC bathroom.

"Jesus, Cash," I breathed, one hand finding his hair, fingers threading through the dark strands. He made a sound—not quite a moan, something deeper, more primal—that vibrated around my length, sending shocks of pleasure up my spine. “You could just say thank you.”

He started to pull back, and I grabbed his hair, keeping him on my cock.

“This works too. Will never complain about this,” I said with a breathy laugh that dissolved into a moan as his tongue swirled through my slit.

I tugged gently, trying to guide him, to slow the frantic pace that threatened to end things embarrassingly quickly. "Like this," I murmured, showing him with slight pressure how to bob his head, how to use his tongue along the underside. He was a fast learner, adjusting his approach immediately, finding a rhythm that had me biting my lip to keep from crying out, hoping no one could hear us.

They probably guessed what we were doing.

Cash hollowed his cheeks, sucking harder as his hand wrapped around the base of my cock, working what he couldn't fit in his mouth. His eyes flicked up to mine, dark with determination and something that looked almost like reverence. The sight of him like this—this man who barely strung three words together, communicating everything he couldn't say with his mouth and hands—pushed me dangerously close to the edge.

"I'm gonna come if you don't stop," I warned, voice strained.

He pulled off with an obscene pop, lips slick and swollen, chin wet. "Not yet.”

He stood in one fluid motion, shoving my jeans down and lifting me so my thighs wrapped around his. He pressed me into the wall as he reached into his pocket for a small packet of lube, ripping it open with his teeth.

"You came prepared," I observed, breathless with want and the realization that he'd planned this—or at least hoped for it.

His lips brushed the shell of my ear, breath hot against my ear as he nibbled at my throat. Then his slick fingers were probing between my cheeks, circling my entrance with surprising gentleness given the urgency thrumming through both our bodies. One thick finger pressed inside, stretching me with careful precision.

He moaned, adding a second finger alongside the first, working me open with efficient strokes that made my cock jump and leak against my stomach.

I pushed back against his hand, greedy for more, for all of him. "Please," I gasped, beyond pride or pretense. "Need you inside me."

Cash nipped at the junction of my neck and shoulder, the slight pain drawing a whimper from my throat.

A third finger joined the others, stretching me wider, brushing against that spot inside that made stars explode behind my eyelids. My legs trembled, threatening to give out entirely as pleasure coursed through me in hot waves.

"Now," I demanded, pushing back against his hand. "Cash, please, now."

He withdrew his fingers, and I heard the rustle of another lube packet being opened, the rasp of his zipper lowering. Then the blunt head of his cock pressed against my entrance, hot and insistent. He pinned my legs high and wide as he drove slowly up into me from below, breaching me in one long, slow thrust that burned and stretched and filled me so completely I forgot how to breathe.

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