Page 70 of A Match Made In Evan
I squeeze his backside before I smack it this time, and he arches his back and lets out an emphatic, “Yes!”
He clenches around my cock with the same movement and I can’t smack him anymore because I’m practically going cross-eyed with pleasure. “Fuck, Ev. Fuck,” I grunt, reaching the point of no return, “fuck, you feel so good. I’m coming. I’m —nnnnghh.” I grind into him, coming as deeply inside him as I possibly can, wanting him to feel me for days.
Then, once the initial buzz fades and my brain kicks back into gear, I spin him around, drop back to my knees, and finish him off with my mouth.
It doesn’t take long for him to come, not with three of my fingers finding their way back inside him, using my cum for additional lube as I seek out his prostate and rub it over and over again.
With one hand yanking at the hair on my head and the other scrabbling for purchase on the slippery tiles behind him, he howls my name as he comes, pouring his hot release down my throat in a thick, rewarding wave of bliss.
Once he slips from my mouth, he slides down the wall to rest on the shower floor beside me.
We catch our breaths, and he swipes wet hair off my forehead, grinning. “I demand a reward like this for every game I win.”
I snicker and lean forward for a sweet kiss, allowing him to taste himself on my tongue. “Mmm,” I hum happily. “Seems reasonable to me.”
It’s not like I’m losing anything with that deal.
In fact, ever since he agreed to be my fake fiancé, it feels like all I’ve done since then is win.
The End.
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