Page 86 of Catch
My balls draw up painfully tight as I unleash down Jett’s throat, shouting his name as the orgasm annihilates me. He’s swallowing my dick so good I can barely breathe.
Can Jett?
Concerned, I pull out of his mouth and watch my cum drip down his face. Jett’s panting hard as he moves his hand frantically over his dick.
“It’s all for me,” I urge. “Come for me.”
He jerks hard and shoots cum all over the ground. I don’t know if anyone sees or hears us, but I don’t care. What a freaking rush.
When I start to come down from my high, I offer Jett my hand to help him stand up.
“I hope you didn’t hurt your knees. Or that I didn’t hurt you.”
“I’m fine, thanks to the grass. And because we both came in record time,” he quips. “And no, you didn’t hurt me. I loved every second of it.”
I haul him into my arms and kiss him, tasting myself on his tongue. He goes rigid for a moment and then melts into me.
“Didn’t think you’d want to do that.”
“What?”
“Kiss me after, you know.”
“I want to kiss you all the time. And now we’re going to do just that. We’re going up to my room and no one’s disturbing us. Your friends can hang out with Marshall if they want, but you and I need a bed and forty-eight hours of naked time so we can fuck until we can’t move.”
“What if I can’t—” He looks down. “I mean, I want to, but?—”
“I mean ‘fuck’ in a general sense. I don’t need anal. I want to, hell yes, I want to do that with you, but only if we’re both into it,” I explain. “Promise me, Jett, that you’ll tell me if there’s anything you don’t want to do. Don’t hide. Not from me.”
He meets my gaze with a shy smile that ruins me.
“I won’t.”
CHAPTER 20
JETT
Before we head inside the frat house, we clean up as best we can. I use my shirt to wipe off my face, but it’s a mess, and everyone will be able to see exactly what we’ve been up to. For once, I don’t care. Ethan runs a hand through my hair, and I don’t think he’s trying to fix it because he’s too busy massaging my scalp. I don’t even think he realizes he’s doing it, but the man is incredibly tactile, and he’s always touching me.
“You ready?” I ask him.
Ethan nods and takes hold of my hand, interlocking our fingers tightly. I more than like it, but I remind myself that it’s temporary. He’s affectionate now because we’re fucking. That’s all.
We step into the house, and I can hear the voices of my friends and laughter from the kitchen. I think back to the night of the soccer game when we were all gathered here, and when I glance at Ethan, his smile tells me he’s thinking the same.
“I’m getting used to the short hair,” he remarks. “Think I should keep it?”
“Only if you want to.”
“I kind of miss the shaggy mess.”
“You’re stunning either way.”
“Stunning?” Ethan pauses. “Sugar, are you saying you think I’m hot?”
“Do you need me to be more specific?” I quip.
“I prefer show over tell.”
