Page 34 of Manhattan Tormentor

Just like we’re giving to each other.

We moan together.

“Fuck. Yes.Please.” I feel like a snowflake by begging, but it comes out of me in a wheeze and then there’s no turning back.

He tastes like beer and spice, and there’s no stopping when I tangle around his tongue. He bites and nips and when he exposes his thick throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing, I attack that area with my mouth.

“Fuck, I’m close.” He chokes out.

So am I.

There’s no way we won’t make a mess and if he doesn’t care then I don’t either.

His mouth finds mine again. It’s less frantic, more forceful, his stubble rubbing up against my face.

I can’t believe he’s letting me do this. Not only is Finn more than participating. He’s theaggressor.

We’re both leaking into each other’s hands, making the slide-pump the slickest fuck of all. The groans are ripped from me. “Now. Now.Now.” I chant like a horny bastard.

When the climax comes, it feels like a volcano erupting. I grunt like an animal and shudder while he rips the pleasure out of me.

He’s wrecked me. This guy has fucked me up in ways I know I won’t untangle from for the rest of my life. Every man now will be measured up against Maverick and the mind-blowing hand-fuck he’s just given me.

Nothing will ever compare. How can it, when I feelwrecked.

My balls have seized up into my body, my cock kicks in his hand as he slows. I didn’t realize my fist had strangled around his shaft until Finn groans and tells me he’s close too.

I pull from his mouth because I need to watch this. He pushes his head back on the headrest, eyes closed. Is he pretending it’s not a guy giving him a handie?

I don’t care.

But I kind of do, and I growl a little and go at him like it’s my only vocation in life to get the come out of him.

He curses and trembles and bites his bottom lip.

He’s so gorgeous, I could watch him forever in this state. Hanging on by a thread, ready to be pushed over the edge of the world.

He comes all too soon.

And I watch it happen.

His lips part, he sucks in a breath, lets out soundless words and shunts his hips into my fist as streams of his pleasure pour over my jerking fingers. I only roll to a stop when he hisses the same time as I thumb over his soaked crown. So plump and deep pink.

Unable to catch air. Unprepared for his pleasure to kill me too, even more than my own did. I’m a heavy breathing mess, but I grab his wet t-shirt from the back and I scrub my hands first. Then I clean our shafts before getting his hands clean too.

He watches me do it through his lowered eyelids.

I feel the change coming through the car. It’s as if a blast of chilly air has entered through a gap in the window.

I’ve wanted no one the way I want him. It’s a craving like no other, clawing animal nails through my skin until I feel sore. But the way he’s looking at me now, it’s in no doubt he’s trying to reason with himself why this happened.

“Shit,” he curses to himself, “fuck.”

Yeah. That doesn’t hurt at all.

It’s expected and still I feel raw at his rejection when my hand touches his thigh and he flinches.

“Fierro…”

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