Page 10 of Holiday Scars
That nearly makes me come. God, this is too good. Energy surges through me. My hips jerk as I drag my tight fist up and down the length and over the sensitive crown.
I turn around to feel the water on my back while I jerk off. The steam and droplets dripping into my ass feel like Blade’s tongue swiping my hole.
After a few more full strokes, root to tip, I groan, “Fuck, Blade, suck my cock.”
God, this is wrong, but it feels so damn good. Like he’d work my dick into a sexy lather and then drink down my cum when I climaxed in his mouth.
I’m so damn close. Teetering on the edge. Stroke, stroke, stroke. I lick my lips and feel Blade kissing me. His tongue is in my mouth, and I know it would be someplace dirty next. My balls are so tight, so sore, they might stay swollen unless I find a human hole to fuck.
I keep stroking, bringing these crazy, unrealistic thoughts to their inevitable conclusion.
“Blade, I’m coming,” I cry out as my ropes of cum spray all over the shower wall.
He’d groan as I fill his mouth with my cum. His throat would tighten around my length, his blue eyes getting darker the more I come.
“Blade, yeah,” I growl, his name slipping off my lips quiet, intentional, and raw.
I’m in so much trouble. Whatever this is, it isn’t going away.
Lost in my climax, my knees buckle from the loss of oxygen to the brain. Again. My vision goes blurry as the sound of the water overtakes the blood roaring in my ears. My heart crashes wildly in my chest.
I drop my cock, catching my breath. A surge of terror crashes over me at what I did. What I imagined. What I want.
“Fuck, fuck, and fuck,” I grind out.
Curled into a ball on the shower floor, I shiver against the cold until I find the strength to rise and look at myself in the mirror.
CHAPTER SIX
Blade
I’m already dressed when I hear it. My name groaning from Jett’s voice. Rough. In the shower.
“Blade, suck my cock.”
It rolls over me like a crane. Like I jammed my finger in the electrical socket, and it short-circuited my thoughts.
For a second, I don’t move.Can’tmove. I just stand there, staring at the closed bathroom door, the sound of water still running.
Jett isn’t yelling. It isn’t a painful moan. But it hits me so hard, I reach for my pulse because I think I’ve coded.
A sharp knock at the bedroom door pulls me out of my stupor.
“Yo, you dudes decent?” Dirk jokes.
I scrub a hand over my face, grounding myself before opening the door. “Of course,” I say, forcing a smile on my lips.
Dirk stands there looking guilty. “Hey, man. I’m sorry about Hana showing up and kicking you out of my bedroom. She decided at the last minute.”
“No problem.” I grip his shoulder, trying to get out of my fucking head. This is a big step in their relationship.
“Are you good in here with Jett?” he asks, looking at the bed over my shoulder.
Theonebed. My stomach twists as his expression shifts. A small twitch furrows in his bushy brows. Is it suspicion? Guilt? Mistrust. Of me? I don’t blame him. If I were him, I’d probably be questioning my gay best friend sleeping in the same bed with my abused brother, who’s not gay.
Unless Dirk knows something about Jett that he’s refusing to admit to me.
I clear my throat to move him along. “Of course, we share rooms all the time on stakeouts. And in a lot worse places. Smaller beds, if that’s possible.”
