Page 9 of Don't Say You're Sorry

Fuck. Fuck…

My breathing picks up, and I dig my nails into my palms so hard I’m sure I’m leaving marks. Just like the marks he used to leave on me. On my hips, my thighs, my ass…

My dick hardens against him as our warm breaths mingle, our mouths almost touching. We used to be the same size, but he’s bigger than me now, more muscular and defined, thanks to three years of playing college basketball. We’re still the same height though. Eye to eye, chest to chest,hips to hips, so I know he feels exactly what he’s doing to me.

His grip on my waist tightens as he rolls his hips into me, taunting me,daringme, and I snap like a rubber band, just like he wants me to. My hand finds the back of his neck, and I pull him the rest of the way in, but just before my lips find his, he jerks back, laughing under his breath as he sidesteps me.

I drag a hand over my face as he unzips his trousers and strips the rest of his clothes, stepping backward into the shower. He turns the water on and waits for it to heat up. “I think about that sometimes. The way it didn’t matter to you that we werebrotherswhen you had your dick in my ass.”

Pain slices through me. “Easton.”

“Forget it.” He shakes his head, tipping it back under the large rainfall showerhead to get his hair wet. “Say what you came here to say, or get the fuck out.”

“I…I don’t know what to say to you,” I admit. “Except that I’m s?—”

“Don’t,” he cuts me off, spitting the words through his teeth. “Don’t you dare.”

Nodding, I watch helplessly as he showers, unsure what else to do. My dick softened after he pulled away from me, but now it’s getting hard again, my hands clutching the edge of the counter behind me as he lathers his body with soap. He’s hard too, his hands roaming over his wet chest and stomach as he stares at mine. My jacket and shirt are still on but unbuttoned, and I make no move to cover myself back up, knowing he wouldn’t like it if I did. I arch my back a little instead, letting him look his fill. Anything he wants, he can have it.

Pleased with me, he puts me out of my misery and moves down to his dick, using both hands to wash it. I groan under my breath as he slowly begins to work it between his fists, making it even harder. A bead of precum glistens on the tip, and I want it. I want it more than I want my next breath. He knows it too, his tongue between his teeth as he rinses himself and shuts the water off.

“You sure about this?”

I nod without thinking.

“You might not like me very much after,” he warns.

“I don’t care.”

Smirking, he steps out of the shower and stops in front of me, dripping wet and sexy as hell. His knuckles brush my jaw, and I sigh contentedly, leaning into his touch.

“I really did miss y?—”

“On your knees,” he says quietly.

I drop to the bathroom floor, eagerly looking up at him as he fists the base of his cock, guiding it to my parted lips. He doesn’t put it in right away, so I lean forward, trying to suck the tip into my mouth, trying to taste him?—

He pushes my head back, pressing it into the counter with his palm on my forehead, and I smile like a damn fool. I love him like this. Bossy. Dominant.Mine.

“Don’t suck,” he warns. “Open your mouth so I can fuck it.”

Jesus. This isn’t the way I planned our reunion in my head. I wasn’t supposed to let him get me on my knees within less than a fucking hour of seeing him again. Deep down, I know this’ll only make things worse between us. We shouldn’t be doing this…

I stick my tongue out and stretch my lips as far as they’ll go to make room for him. His eyes darken as he shifts forward, rubbing the tip of his cock over my tongue. I groan at the taste and feel of him, resisting the urge to wrap my lips around him andsuckuntil I get what I want. The fingers of his free hand glide through my hair, making me shiver as he begins rocking in and out of me.

“Can I touch you?” I mumble around his cock, my hands hovering near his hips.

He shakes his head, taking my wrists and pinning them to the counter above my head. I whine at the loss of his hand in my hair, but my disappointment is forgotten when he slides his fingers through mine, his nails biting into my knuckles as he fucks my mouth.

I gag the first time he hits the back of my throat—and the second, and the third—and his eyes darken even more until they look almost completely black. He eases back a little, slowing his pace and letting me work myself up to it. By the time he’s in my throat again, I’m taking it like the champ he trained me to be, and he’s smiling down at me, lighting me up with pride.

But then his smile falls, and he curses under his breath. “Tell me to stop again.”

I make a noise of protest and shake my head.

“Fuck.” He keeps rocking into my mouth. “Adam, baby…”

Closing my eyes, I dig my nails intohispalms, giving him a defiant little tug. I know what he’s thinking, but I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want or deserve his pity. All I want right now is his cum.

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