Page 88 of For the Fans
Kyran groans quietly and I groan back, my fingers releasing his shirt to slide up into his hair. He presses me into the wall harder, but I press back, fighting him for control, which he seems to give up easily for me, slipping under the spell of these intoxicating kisses.
I bite his lip and he whines, squeezing my chest, touching me with twitching fingers as the sounds of wet suction fill the small room.
“Close the door,” he whimpers while we maul each other’s mouths.
“Itisclosed,” I grunt, one hand sliding down his back while the other holds his jaw.
It’ssosharp and chiseled, feeling it move while he kisses me has my cock stiff as a pole, jammed in between our bodies. I yank his lower back to feel… and yea, he’s hard too. So,sohard.
God-fucking-damn, why does his dick feel so good??
“Lock it,” he demands, sliding his tongue into my mouth to pet mine. “The door, Avi… Please lock it.”
Fuck… his tongue. I really like his tongue in my mouth…
This is so bad.
Reaching behind him, I manage to lock the door, my hand immediately coming back to him, gripping his ass and kneading it hard in my fingers until he mewls.
“Is it locked??” he breathes in between wild, fevered kisses.
“Yes, Kyran, it’s fucking locked,” I grumble at his control-freakishness, tugging his hair in my fist and sucking hard enough to bruise his annoying mouth.
“Then barricade it,” he whines, shuddering against me.
I chuckle into his mouth. “With what?”
“I don’t care, just do it,” he croaks, rumbly, pleading desperation in his tone. “No one can find out about this.No one, Avi, do you fucking hear me??”
I nod while licking his lip and pulling it between my teeth. “Yes, baby, I hear you.”
“Don’t fucking call me that,” he hisses, and I shove him against the door.
“Sorry… I thought you were someone else,” I tease, biting him until he purrs again. My cock is fuckingpulsingthis is so good. “Use your big, sexy body to block the door.”
“Shut up,” he growls. “This changes nothing. I still hate you…”
“Mhm.” I nod, fiercely grinding my cock against his through our pants.
“And this is still just for the money…”
“But we’re not recording.” I brush my palm over his nipple through his shirt. He whines, and Iswear to God, I’m falling apart right now.
“Then fuckingrecord,” he pants, trailing a hand down my front, eager fingers playing with the buttons on my shirt.
I don’t think I need to record right now, a thought that brings a sliver of awareness to my mind. I have no idea what we’re doing, but I’m certain it has nothing to do with the fans.
Still, I need to use my head here; keep us in line, and most importantly, keep Kyran from freaking out.If he wants to record, then we record.
And I won’t say the idea of capturing this surreal moment isn’t an alluring one.
So I pull my phone out of my pocket, attempting to kiss him while opening up my camera. I press record and hold the phone up as best I can as we devour one another’s lips like they’re some sort of insanely delicious snack. Writhing our bodies together, I rub my erection on his, feeling it rock-hard and throbbing through his jeans.
“That feel good?” I whisper, sucking possessively on his lower lip.
He nods and whines, “Yea…Yes. It feels… really good.”
“What about if I kiss you here?” My mouth trails down his jaw, onto his throat, tongue peeking out to swipe his Adam’s apple. It bobs, and I bite it, to which he rumbles a sweet, choked sound. “Shh… Quiet, beautiful.”
