Page 40 of Insatiable Hunger

Forearm muscles corded and bulging, his fist flies up and down his length as he holds me in place. He grunts and groans as he inches himself closer, and I can do nothing more than sit here and wait. Beg for it.

“Ready?” he asks. When I nod feverishly, he groans, “Open up. Stick that pretty pink tongue out for me.”

Doing as he says, I also grab my cock again, jacking as I watch him in anticipation. His grip on my hair tightens, tears springing to my eyes as he erupts. Thick ropes decorate my tongue, chin, and shirt as he groans through his release. His wild, heated eyes bore into mine as he marks me.

As soon as he’s finished, he instructs me onto my bed. Sitting beside me, spent cock still out, he gathers the cum from my face, using it to smear around my length.

“Do you want me to make you come?”

Nodding, I can only mumble, “Mmhm.” His palm closes around me, tight and rough, and a hiss escapes me.

Zeke dips his head down, lips hovering a hairsbreadth away from mine. “What do you say, my little slut?”

Whimpering, I wrap my hand around his nape and say, “Please make me come, daddy,” before sealing his lips to mine in what is probably the most explosive kiss I’ve ever experienced. Hand working me expertly, using his own cum as lube, his tongue thrusts into my mouth, licking and tasting every crevice as fireworks and stars explode behind my eyelids.

The pressure builds at the base of my spine, my entire body tingling and trembling as he shoots me into outer space. Kisses muffle the cries as my release barrels through me, pelting my abs.

Breaking my lips away from his, my head drops back. “Oh,fuck,” I moan a little too loudly, and I hiss when he sinks his teeth into the sensitive flesh of my neck.

“Cállate,” he thunders. “Your mother is down the hall. Wouldn’t want her to wake up and see the predicament her son is in, now, would we? Dried cum on his face, a filthy mess on his chest.Used.”

My cock twitches, an aftershock taking over as I shake my head because, no, that most certainly isn’t what I want right now. After I come down from the high he took me to, my eyes droop, eyelids heavy, and my body sleepy. In the far back of my mind, as far back as I can push it, a thick sense of dread makes itself known. Dread for what’s to come after tonight because, surely, things can never go back to normal—or whatever our version of normal was before.

Zeke’s awoken an insatiable hunger inside of me.

“C’mon, let’s get you laid down,” he murmurs softly in my ear, moving me until my head is resting on the pillow. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

Wouldn’t dream of moving right now.

He comes back a few minutes later, a washcloth and a bottle of water in hand. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he first wipes my face, with what I now know is a warm, wet washcloth, before moving to clean my stomach. Once he seems satisfied with that, he sets it on my nightstand before grabbing the water bottle and bringing it to my lips.

His actions and the way he’s handling me now is so tender. A vast difference from how he was a few minutes ago. I almost don’t know how to process it.

Reaching behind him, he pulls my covers over my body, basically tucking me in. “We’ll talk tomorrow, but for now, I want you to get some rest.”

Zeke then raises off the bed and leaves. Without a single backwards glance.

I flop over, flat on my back, as I stare up at the ceiling.

How the fuck is this how my night ended?

Chapter Twenty

Zeke Alvarez

Two and a Half Years Ago—Rehearsal Dinner

My eyes track their movement. Every laugh, every small touch of the arm, every whisper in the ear, every move they make as their bodies are plastered to one another on the dance floor.

I watch. Then I watch some more. I can’t fucking seem to stop watching.

He’s been drinking all evening. One shot after another after another, only to be traded out for a cocktail, then a beer. It’s a goddamn miracle he hasn’t hurled yet. But no… he’s not sick. He sure is flirtier the more he drinks, though.

Not that I have any room to talk when it comes to drinking. I’ve been pounding tequila like a fish out of water too.

“Zeke.” A hand slaps my upper arm, pulling my attention from the dance floor to my soon-to-bebride. “Is everything okay? You’ve been completely silent for the last twenty minutes.”

“Fine,” I lie. Pointing to the middle of the room, I ask, “Who’s that guy Elias brought?”

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