Page 38 of Pucked Up

And neither would I.

Stepping up behind him, I gripped him aroundthe waist, pressing him harder against the door as I took my own dick out. It was fat and heavy, throbbing from not being touched in so long, and I grazed the tip up the crack of his ass.

“Oh fuck. Fuck,” he gasped. His cheek was squished against the wood as he tried to turn his head. “Do you have condoms?”

I didn’t. Not yet. “A failure on my part,” I told him. “I’ll remedy that soon. For now, be good and take what I give you.”

“Take what—oh.” A single nudge of my dick against his hole, and then I spit on my hand, slicked myself up, and slid it between the crack of his ass. I began to pump my hips as I used my hands to squeeze him around me.

The sight of it was wholly erotic in ways I had never experienced before. My entire body felt like it had caught fire. I was going to end up ash when this was all done, but I would have no regrets. Boden was…hell, he was perfect.

And I wasted no time telling him that in our shared mother tongue.

“Can’t get enough of this, of you. So good for me, so perfect, so gorgeous. Mon petit feu, falling apart just from the slide of my cock against your ass. Tell me you want my come.”

“I want it,” he sobbed, and he banged his fist against the wall. I knew what those words must have cost him. I knew the price he was paying for admitting the one thing he wanted to keep to himself. “Please, please come.”

My vision went white at the edges, and I closed my eyes, humping faster, squeezing harder until I felt my orgasm crest and then crash. I let go with a heavy groan, thrusting my hips against him as I spilled all over the small of his back.

His hips moved back against me as best as he could, trying to milk me clean of every drop.

Letting my head fall forward, I grazed my teeth over his shoulder, then pulled back and spun him around to face me. I could feel him falling, his knees weak, so I shoved my thigh between his legs so he could rest his weight on me.

“What—” he started, but the rest of his sentence died when I grabbed his cock. His big doe eyes locked on mine.

I gave a single stroke from root to tip, and he tried to chase more, but I wouldn’t let him. “What did I tell you?”

“I—I don’t…what do you mean?”

“Before,” I said. I stroked him again, and his eyes rolled up in his head for a second. “When you know your smart little mouth is going to get the best of you, what are you supposed to do?”

He sneered. “Find you?”

“Yes.” I stroked him harder, faster, and the flush on his throat began to creep into his cheeks. “Find me, ask me to help you vent.” He groaned, and his head started to tip back, but I caught him by the jaw and held him. “Boden.”

“I hate you.”

“I don’t think you do.” Licking my lips, I staredat his. They were begging to be kissed. “I think you want this. I think you hate that I’m the only one who has ever been able to give you what you need.”

His jaw clenched. “No one fucking gets it. No one fucking gets me.”

“But I do.”

He breathed out through his nose. “I know.”

Leaning in, I ghosted a kiss over his jaw. “And here I am. So ask me, Boden. Ask me to make it feel better.”

There was a long pause, another test. And then I heard his voice beg so softly, “Make it better.”

“Mon petit feu,” I said, and his pupils blew wide. Tilting his jaw just a little, I leaned in and offered a kiss as my hand sped up. I thought he might reject me for a moment, that he might spit in my face and tell me to fuck off.

But then he surged against my chest, his lips crashing into mine. It was as rough as I stroked him, but as his orgasm began to build, he softened. His lips and tongue turned tender, no longer fighting me, instead letting me in.

I tasted his tongue, sliding my own against his, and he moaned deep in his chest as his hips rocked into my hand, and then he thickened and spilled. His foreskin slid wetly as he chased his pleasure against my palm.

“Fuck, fuck,” he gasped, shuddering as he started to come down.

Moving my hand away from him, I wrapped botharms around him and pulled him to my chest. “Do you need to sit down?”

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