Page 71 of Hot Mess Express
What else would I want to try on him?
What else would he let me do?
“You haven’t touched your sandwich,” Juni notices, sad.
Maybe it’s not the sandwich I want to touch right now.
It’s that thought two long, agonizing hours later when Juni is asleep hogging the bed and I’m out on the couch in the dark that makes me move my hand to the crotch of my tight briefs.
I’m hard. Achingly hard.
You wanna try stuff out on me?
Bridger’s voice. Bridger’s burning blue eyes. Bridger’s cocky, insufferable fucking face.
Kiss me again?
My hand slips into my underwear, grabs hold of my dick, and squeezes it. I gasp into the silent air of the living room.
Have me hold you like I did by the side of the road the other night?
When my face was buried in his chest, in the blue denim ofhis jacket, and his arms enclosed around me, pinning my body against him with no chance of breaking free.
My hand’s started to move.
I’m not a flavor of beverage.
Why does it drive me crazy even when he gives me that hard, indignant look? He gets pissed so quickly. And when he does, the way his eyes shine with irritation looks the same as I’d imagine he gets in the bedroom when fucking someone senseless.
Biting his lip, gripping his partner, and reaming them.
Sweaty bodies after working out, after some military drill, all slick with sweat, as he slams himself again and again into his man.
That irritated, hungry, nothing-is-enough glint in his eyes.
I’m not even jerking my cock all that fast inside my briefs, but it’s coming, and it’s coming fast, the edge, rushing toward me with the intensity I’m imagining in Bridger’s eyes.
Want me to try stuff out on you?I hear his voice again, but the words have reversed.
“Yeah,” I grunt into the darkness of the room, into the silence that’s filled only by the swishing noise of my fist inside my tight underwear, and the cock slowly being choked to death. “I want you to … t-try stuff out on me. Gimme your worst.”
Want me to fuck you senseless, Anthony?
Whenever he says my name. Even when it’s said angrily. Even when I could put money down that he hates my guts from here to the ends of every country road leading outta this dusty town.
His sweaty body tensing with every pump of his dick into that poor guy he’s got bent over his bed, clutching him tight, fucking him without relent.
It’s not just his strength. It’s his rule-abiding discipline. His unwavering commitment. His current charge: fucking. His current mission: fucking. His entire world and everything he isdoggone worth is doggone fucking.
And he will perform his duty perfectly.
The guy he’s fucking senseless suppresses a whimper, claws at the sheets, then turns his sweat-drenched head.
It’s me.
I shoot my load so hard that I stop jerking entirely, and while my eyes and mouth fly open, I squeeze my dick and feel it ejecting every last ounce of my frustration inside my briefs, sticky and warm and gushing with no end in sight.
Every single shot is his kiss again.
