Wrath: A Sinful Secrets Romance, page 19
He nods, stuffing his hands into the sweatshirt’s pocket.
“There’s a brick wall back there. If you climb up onto one of the crypts—see the really tall one, shaped like a big dick? You can climb from that to the top of the brick wall and look out at the water.” It’s a long way down, I realize suddenly. The view from up there would be so much like the one from the trestle bridge.
Fuck, did he really say he jumped to die? I didn’t let myself go there before right now, and now the thought makes my stomach drop.
His hand brushes mine. “Mills.” He smiles, looking tired and fucking gorgeous with his lake eyes and his lush lips. “It’s okay.”
“You asked me why,” I manage, “but I didn’t ask you. Why you—”
“Don’t.” He lifts his brows and stops walking for half a second.
I don’t know what to say to that, so I just nod, and we start walking again.
“I think I see it,” he says, pointing to the brick wall.
“Yeah, and see the dick crypt, right by the really mossy oak with those low branches? I know it’s fucked that we climb on it, but kids here have been doing it forever. When I was little, we were scared of who’s inside it, so we used to bring our favorite rocks or sticks to leave. You know, as an offering.”
We get to the crypt—it’s made of what looks like pearly cement, its crevices stained dark by time—and I climb up. As I’m reaching for the top of the brick wall so I can hoist myself up, Ezra’s hand comes to my ankle. “Hey, man. Are you sure about this?”
“This?” I tap the crypt.
“Sitting up there,” he says. He looks worried.
“It’s all good.”
He shakes his head. “I’ve got an idea,” he says. “Come back down.”
I do, and I watch as he climbs up ahead of me. He straddles the wall, which is about a foot wide, and then scoots back a little, giving me a crooked grin as he points at the space in front of him.
“We gonna ride this like a horse?”
“Yeah,” he says. “So you don’t fall off.”
I feel his hand at my back as I settle in front of him. The trees are so thick here, leaves are all around us, so it feels like we’re in a kaleidoscope.
“I forgot how overgrown this is,” I say. “Sorry it’s a little dense.”
“I like it.”
We can see the lake below, with its red mud cliffs.
“I used to think of jumping off when I was a kid.” As soon as I say it, I regret it. What a fucking moron, Miller. But there’s no awkward silence. He says, “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Just swimming, you know. Like this swan dive and…” I swallow hard.
His hand touches on my back. “You learn to swim when you were really little?” he asks, sounding casual.
“Yeah. Most people do here. Because of the lake.”
His finger draws on my back; it feels like a wave shape.
“What about you?” I manage.
“Could I swim as a kid?” he asks. “Yes.”
He draws more waves, and I can feel him draw an umbrella. “Was that a beach umbrella?” I smile.
I can hear him smile back as he says, “Maybe.” In an almost whisper, he says, “You feel okay?”
“Yep, all good here.”
“Can you tell before it happens?”
Ezra. I have this weird flash of memory—of me standing in the shower, thinking his name. “Sort of,” I tell him. “But I think not always.”
He draws a star on my back.
“Starfish?” I manage, even though my lungs are tight from our proximity.
“Maybe.”
He draws a rectangle.
“Rectangle?”
“Square.”
Then he writes, “DG.”
My fucking traitor body does this little shiver. He scoots closer, wraps an arm around my waist. “Still okay?” he murmurs.
“You made me do that,” I whisper.
“My finger?”
“Yeah.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.”
He rests his cheek against my shoulder blade, and right away, he moves to straighten up.
I put my hand over his—over the one that’s at my waist. After a moment’s hesitation, he lays his cheek against me again.
“I can hear your heart,” he says after a second.
“What does it sound like?” I whisper.
“Like music. Boom. Boom. Boom.” His head on me is heavy. “Good and steady.”
“You sleep okay last night?” I ask.
“I’m good.”
His head is still leaned on me. Shit. I fucking love it. “Did you sleep?”
He nuzzles his cheek against me, pressing it against a new spot on my upper back. “Don’t worry about me. I still remember your burger order, too. I’m gonna get it for you.”
“I don’t need it.”
He tips his forehead against me, and I can feel him inhaling.
“Are you smelling me, Masters? Oh I forgot, you don’t like to be called Masters. Ez.”
“Ez,” he rasps.
I nod. I put my hand over his, even as sweat prickles my body.
His hand below mine doesn’t move. I think he’s quit breathing.
“I like your hands,” I tell him. God, my heart is beating so hard.
“You do?”
“Yeah. They’re nice.” I clasp my hand around his wrist.
His hand tries to grasp mine. I can’t help laughing softly. I put my hand over his and thread my fingers through his, squeezing for a second.
“Never jump,” I whisper.
“Never fall.” His lips brush my back.
He hugs me tight, wrapping himself around me. “You gotta be careful, Millsy. Don’t come here without me.”
I let my head hang, shutting my eyes just to feel him. I want to see him, to touch him more, but I can’t turn around on top of the wall.
His lips brush my back through my shirt. “Smells like you,” he whispers.
“Makes sense.” I smile.
He presses his face to my nape. I can feel his ribcage expanding against my back.
He lifts the weight of his head off my back, and with one hand still snugly around my waist, he scrawls something on my side.
“D…G…D…G.” And then: “GOOD.”
He straightens up and draws himself away from me. His arm, around my waist, loosens, his hand curling. I can feel him take a deep breath. Then another one.
I murmur, “Hang on.”
Then I shift onto my knees, holding onto the top of the wall as I dangle my legs off on the cemetery side. I hear Ezra’s murmur, but I don’t look up at him; I need to focus. It’s a little harder than I thought it would be, because my muscles are still sapped, but I pull myself back up, climbing onto the wall so that I’m facing him.
He looks amused—and confused. Fuck, he’s so close. Right in front of me. My cheeks sting with heat as I’m consumed by a near-crushing wave of shyness. I swallow, and his lips quirk as he reaches out to touch…a leaf on my shirt. He picks it off and holds it in his palm. It’s star-shaped. He looks at it for a long moment before his eyes return to mine.
There’s nothing on his face. His eyes aren’t hard or soft. It’s like they’re seeking something—from me.
“What are you doing?” His voice is a low rasp.
I swallow, but when I try to speak, it’s just a whisper. “Looking at you.”
His mouth twitches again, but it’s a sad thing. Not a smile. “What do you see?” His nostrils flare a little, his eyes round on my eyes.
Sweat prickles around my hairline, and my heart starts to pound. The trees bend around us, as if we’re underneath a blanket. His shoulders rise as he breathes deeply again.
I reach out. My hand cups his throat.
“Ezra,” I whisper. My fingers move to where I know I’ll feel his pulse. The jugular. His eyes close and his head tips back a little, giving it to me. If I were a vampire, I would strike right now and drain him dry.
As it is, I trail my fingertips over his smooth throat, feeling the gentle ridge of his Adam’s apple. Warm skin. So soft. Just when I start to doubt it, start to wonder if he likes this, he starts breathing harder. Shallow.
I put my left hand on his shoulder, look at his closed eyes, and ask them to open. And they do. Somehow, he hears me.
I hold his gaze and let my fingers run along his jaw. His shoulders jerk with a small shudder. His eyes are changing…getting wider…pupils larger. His lips part, and I think he looks panicked. He jerks a breath in. "Get down!"
"What do you—"
"Get down, Miller."
He sounds so urgent, I do it without question. His feet hit the ground first, and he starts striding between tombstones.
When I turn around, I see him running.
Ten
Josh
"Ezra!"
I feel sick, then pissed, as I take off behind him. "Ezra!"
When he doesn't slow, it kick-starts my adrenaline. I jog faster, speeding up enough so that I’m close enough to catch his arm. I grab him at an angle that makes him whirl partway toward me.
"Damn, dude! What did I do?"
His eyes flash like lightning.
"You don't want me touching you?" My fucking voice cracks on the words as I look down at the ground. I squeeze my eyes shut as tears throb behind them. "Sorry."
His hand comes under my chin, squeezing so my body freezes.
"No." He lifts my face so our eyes meet. "I knew if you touched me one more time, I would do this."
And then he steps in closer, wraps a hand around the back of my head, and kisses me so hard and deep I nearly slide to the ground.
The first thought I have, as he makes my limbs go weak and my heart swell up twice its size, is I don’t know how. I don’t know how to kiss him back. I try…as he attacks my mouth—over and over in a gentle, hot, slick rhythm. God, I hope I’m doing this right.
I'm scared till I feel him shaking; his lips pull off mine so he can pant like he’s been running. Then he comes back to me. Hands and mouth…his hips, his pecs pressed to mine. Who’s shaking? It’s both of us. We kiss till my head spins. Until my lips feel bruised and sore and my tongue stings a little from the tangle with his. His teeth nip at my lip, and my whole body does this little tremor.
He pulls back with wide eyes. "Did I hurt you?"
His lips are red. I huff a soft laugh, and his face relaxes. "No." I touch his mouth. "Your lips are swollen."
He looks down. "That's not all."
There's a bulge in his pants. Not a bulge. A rock-hard boner trying to get out. It makes my aching-hard erection throb.
"Fuck," he murmurs as he reaches down to cup me. "Now we've gotta walk home," he rasps, covering a smile with his hand.
"Let me jerk you."
He kisses my lips gently. “Miller, Miller… Who knew you were such an exhibitionist?”
“I can’t walk like this.”
His palm cups me as he grins a wicked grin.
"Let's go over there behind the crypt,” I whisper. “Between it and the brick wall. I'll pull down your pants and—"
"You'll pull down your pants and let me suck you off." He grabs my wrist and starts to lead me that way. Then he cuts his eyes over his shoulder at me, gentling his grip on my arm. He stops walking and steps closer to me, holding my hip as his lips find my neck.
"Can you take your pants down outside and let me blow you? I won't smear it on your abs. I'll swallow every…fucking…drop." He kisses me between each word.
I can barely speak for what he's doing to my throat now.
"What do you say?" He drops a kiss over the spot he just bruised and cups my elbow with his hand.
"I want you," I manage. "Before."
He nibbles at my lower lip, rubbing me through my pants. He rubs so good, my eyes sag shut. I start to press myself against his hand.
"What do you want to do to me?" his low voice murmurs.
"Suck you. Suck your balls and your dick." I'm rubbing him again now. I can feel how hard he is. He's hard for me.
"Let's go," he says. This time, he takes my hand. He leads me into the trees, behind some of the taller crypts, and motions to a soft-looking spot between two saplings.
"You first,” I rasp. My heart's pounding and my cock's throbbing; all I want is to touch him.
"I've got an idea. Lie down. Take your pants down.” I do what he asks, lying on my back in the leaves, and he's pulling his pants down, too. I blink up at him.
Oh fuck...he’s so big. It looks like a living thing under his dark green boxers. I push myself up on an elbow, wanting to pet him through the fabric, but he crouches in front of me, pushing my shoulders down. And then he’s crawling over me. Jesus H., he’s getting into sixty-nine position.
"Suck my balls,” he says, pulling his boxers down so I can see his thick dickhead, “and let me get you off. Then you can...do more if you want to,” he breathes.
Holy shit, his dick is insane. Long and thick and…shit, it’s damn near perfect. There’s no way it’s smaller than eight inches. His balls are big and round and low-hanging.
I’m starstruck for a second. Then the only thing I want is just to touch it. I cup his balls in one sweaty hand, huffing out a laugh as I can barely fit them in my palm. My other hand finds his base, stroking the soft, silky skin over his thick shaft. I’m tightening my abs so I can lean up, wanting to flick my tongue over his sac, when his mouth seals around my cockhead.
"Aghhhh." My hips buck, and he moves his mouth off me. "You okay?"
"Yeah. Please. Fuck."
He chuckles, but his lower body’s trembling just like I am. I can't get his dick into my mouth from this angle, lying under it, but I can run my hand over his long, thick boner, teasing as he wraps his lips around my cock again, sucking me deeper than he has before. My whole body glows with good feels, but I want him more than I want to relax and enjoy. I go for his taint with my tongue, licking once—making him groan and shift his hips away.
"I can’t suck you if you do that."
"Then don't suck."
He does, though. He rolls his tongue around me before swallowing my dick so deep it makes him choke. I stroke the inside of his muscular thigh, then shut my eyes as I pump him with my hand.
He tries to deepthroat me again, groaning around me as I play with his balls—rolling them in my hand, cupping them. When I try to stroke behind them, he lifts himself off me again. Fucker. I grab his dick, squeezing lightly, and I feel him hum around my cock.
He thrusts his hips in time with my stroking, and his mouth swallows me deeper.
“God, Ezra…”
Chills pop out all over my body as my cock’s encased in velvet warmth. His tongue’s thrashing near my base as his throat spasms around my cockhead.
"I'm close…"
His head starts bobbing as he eases some of me out, sucking my head, teasing the tip with his tongue before deepthroating me again. I want to fuck with him, with that huge dick that’s bobbing up above me, but his finger prods behind my balls…finds my hole. I’m moaning as he pulls his mouth off my cock, spits into his hand, and takes me back in, sucking my cock with his cheeks as he smears his saliva around my hole.
As he's sucking me so fucking good my stomach aches from the force, Ezra pushes with his pinkie, working just the tip into me.
"God..." My body bucks all on its own. I'm thrusting into his throat. He sucks me once and then pulls back off.
"Let me get in deeper..." His low voice is shaking.
"Okay,” I moan.
He pushes in more, and I can't help it. I'm filled with his finger—something's in me—and I blow.
It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt from my own hand: a whole-body spasm that rocks me so hard it’s like blacking out as bliss moves through me in a tight, hot, wave that loosens and tingles and then rolls back over again. I don’t even realize that I’m coming in his mouth until I feel him swallowing, and then I open my eyes.
He’s got an arm wrapped under my thigh, and I can see his ribcage moving as he sucks air in through his nose. After a minute, he eases me out of his mouth. His lips brush my tip and then I hear him panting.
Above me, his dick is looking longer, stiffer, pointing almost parallel with his abs despite the tug of gravity. His balls are drawn up nice and taut. I reach up and cup them, and he lets out a loud groan.
“Let me make you come now…”
He doesn’t move, so I tease the inside of his thigh with just a fingertip, and his whole body shudders.
“Miller,” he groans.
He kisses my shaft and then rolls off me, lying on his back in the grass. With his dick jutting up and his cheeks flushed and his lips all swollen red, and this one strand of hair falling over his brow, he looks like the patron saint of secret fucks. He looks young as he peers up at me with dazed eyes. I’m grinning as I crawl atop him, cupping his face.
“Hey angel.” I drag my palm over his throat. I kiss his throat, and then his chin and jaw and then his lips. I kiss him with tongue and taste myself, which makes my stomach do a weird twist.
He likes it. He seems to like my kissing, so I must be doing okay. He grabs onto my head, holding me in place gently, taking it deeper. It’s like last time: fast and hard and desperate, like he knows that one of us will die in half an hour and he’s going to use every second.
When he’s breathing so hard and fast that he can only cup my cheek and lean his forehead against my jaw, he whispers, “It hurts.”
“Your dick hurts?”
I can feel him reaching down to hold himself.
“I can jerk off,” he says in a voice that trembles.
“Fuck no. Are you kidding me?” I kiss his cheek, his lips, and look into his glassy, heavy-lidded eyes. “I want nothing more. I want to suck you off, angel. Make you feel good.”
I reach down between us, wrap my hand around his thick tip.
“I’m not…an angel.” The words are little shivers as I smear his precum around.
“Fuck, that’s so hot.” I drop a kiss on his pec and then crawl down him, settling atop his thick quads.
“Someone’s looking cut as fuck,” I murmur, tracing a line of muscle.
He’s so amped up, the light touch makes him shiver. He moans, and I lean down to lap at his cockhead. Before I start, I look up at him. “Just gonna do a little licking here… Popsicle style.”
“There’s a brick wall back there. If you climb up onto one of the crypts—see the really tall one, shaped like a big dick? You can climb from that to the top of the brick wall and look out at the water.” It’s a long way down, I realize suddenly. The view from up there would be so much like the one from the trestle bridge.
Fuck, did he really say he jumped to die? I didn’t let myself go there before right now, and now the thought makes my stomach drop.
His hand brushes mine. “Mills.” He smiles, looking tired and fucking gorgeous with his lake eyes and his lush lips. “It’s okay.”
“You asked me why,” I manage, “but I didn’t ask you. Why you—”
“Don’t.” He lifts his brows and stops walking for half a second.
I don’t know what to say to that, so I just nod, and we start walking again.
“I think I see it,” he says, pointing to the brick wall.
“Yeah, and see the dick crypt, right by the really mossy oak with those low branches? I know it’s fucked that we climb on it, but kids here have been doing it forever. When I was little, we were scared of who’s inside it, so we used to bring our favorite rocks or sticks to leave. You know, as an offering.”
We get to the crypt—it’s made of what looks like pearly cement, its crevices stained dark by time—and I climb up. As I’m reaching for the top of the brick wall so I can hoist myself up, Ezra’s hand comes to my ankle. “Hey, man. Are you sure about this?”
“This?” I tap the crypt.
“Sitting up there,” he says. He looks worried.
“It’s all good.”
He shakes his head. “I’ve got an idea,” he says. “Come back down.”
I do, and I watch as he climbs up ahead of me. He straddles the wall, which is about a foot wide, and then scoots back a little, giving me a crooked grin as he points at the space in front of him.
“We gonna ride this like a horse?”
“Yeah,” he says. “So you don’t fall off.”
I feel his hand at my back as I settle in front of him. The trees are so thick here, leaves are all around us, so it feels like we’re in a kaleidoscope.
“I forgot how overgrown this is,” I say. “Sorry it’s a little dense.”
“I like it.”
We can see the lake below, with its red mud cliffs.
“I used to think of jumping off when I was a kid.” As soon as I say it, I regret it. What a fucking moron, Miller. But there’s no awkward silence. He says, “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Just swimming, you know. Like this swan dive and…” I swallow hard.
His hand touches on my back. “You learn to swim when you were really little?” he asks, sounding casual.
“Yeah. Most people do here. Because of the lake.”
His finger draws on my back; it feels like a wave shape.
“What about you?” I manage.
“Could I swim as a kid?” he asks. “Yes.”
He draws more waves, and I can feel him draw an umbrella. “Was that a beach umbrella?” I smile.
I can hear him smile back as he says, “Maybe.” In an almost whisper, he says, “You feel okay?”
“Yep, all good here.”
“Can you tell before it happens?”
Ezra. I have this weird flash of memory—of me standing in the shower, thinking his name. “Sort of,” I tell him. “But I think not always.”
He draws a star on my back.
“Starfish?” I manage, even though my lungs are tight from our proximity.
“Maybe.”
He draws a rectangle.
“Rectangle?”
“Square.”
Then he writes, “DG.”
My fucking traitor body does this little shiver. He scoots closer, wraps an arm around my waist. “Still okay?” he murmurs.
“You made me do that,” I whisper.
“My finger?”
“Yeah.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.”
He rests his cheek against my shoulder blade, and right away, he moves to straighten up.
I put my hand over his—over the one that’s at my waist. After a moment’s hesitation, he lays his cheek against me again.
“I can hear your heart,” he says after a second.
“What does it sound like?” I whisper.
“Like music. Boom. Boom. Boom.” His head on me is heavy. “Good and steady.”
“You sleep okay last night?” I ask.
“I’m good.”
His head is still leaned on me. Shit. I fucking love it. “Did you sleep?”
He nuzzles his cheek against me, pressing it against a new spot on my upper back. “Don’t worry about me. I still remember your burger order, too. I’m gonna get it for you.”
“I don’t need it.”
He tips his forehead against me, and I can feel him inhaling.
“Are you smelling me, Masters? Oh I forgot, you don’t like to be called Masters. Ez.”
“Ez,” he rasps.
I nod. I put my hand over his, even as sweat prickles my body.
His hand below mine doesn’t move. I think he’s quit breathing.
“I like your hands,” I tell him. God, my heart is beating so hard.
“You do?”
“Yeah. They’re nice.” I clasp my hand around his wrist.
His hand tries to grasp mine. I can’t help laughing softly. I put my hand over his and thread my fingers through his, squeezing for a second.
“Never jump,” I whisper.
“Never fall.” His lips brush my back.
He hugs me tight, wrapping himself around me. “You gotta be careful, Millsy. Don’t come here without me.”
I let my head hang, shutting my eyes just to feel him. I want to see him, to touch him more, but I can’t turn around on top of the wall.
His lips brush my back through my shirt. “Smells like you,” he whispers.
“Makes sense.” I smile.
He presses his face to my nape. I can feel his ribcage expanding against my back.
He lifts the weight of his head off my back, and with one hand still snugly around my waist, he scrawls something on my side.
“D…G…D…G.” And then: “GOOD.”
He straightens up and draws himself away from me. His arm, around my waist, loosens, his hand curling. I can feel him take a deep breath. Then another one.
I murmur, “Hang on.”
Then I shift onto my knees, holding onto the top of the wall as I dangle my legs off on the cemetery side. I hear Ezra’s murmur, but I don’t look up at him; I need to focus. It’s a little harder than I thought it would be, because my muscles are still sapped, but I pull myself back up, climbing onto the wall so that I’m facing him.
He looks amused—and confused. Fuck, he’s so close. Right in front of me. My cheeks sting with heat as I’m consumed by a near-crushing wave of shyness. I swallow, and his lips quirk as he reaches out to touch…a leaf on my shirt. He picks it off and holds it in his palm. It’s star-shaped. He looks at it for a long moment before his eyes return to mine.
There’s nothing on his face. His eyes aren’t hard or soft. It’s like they’re seeking something—from me.
“What are you doing?” His voice is a low rasp.
I swallow, but when I try to speak, it’s just a whisper. “Looking at you.”
His mouth twitches again, but it’s a sad thing. Not a smile. “What do you see?” His nostrils flare a little, his eyes round on my eyes.
Sweat prickles around my hairline, and my heart starts to pound. The trees bend around us, as if we’re underneath a blanket. His shoulders rise as he breathes deeply again.
I reach out. My hand cups his throat.
“Ezra,” I whisper. My fingers move to where I know I’ll feel his pulse. The jugular. His eyes close and his head tips back a little, giving it to me. If I were a vampire, I would strike right now and drain him dry.
As it is, I trail my fingertips over his smooth throat, feeling the gentle ridge of his Adam’s apple. Warm skin. So soft. Just when I start to doubt it, start to wonder if he likes this, he starts breathing harder. Shallow.
I put my left hand on his shoulder, look at his closed eyes, and ask them to open. And they do. Somehow, he hears me.
I hold his gaze and let my fingers run along his jaw. His shoulders jerk with a small shudder. His eyes are changing…getting wider…pupils larger. His lips part, and I think he looks panicked. He jerks a breath in. "Get down!"
"What do you—"
"Get down, Miller."
He sounds so urgent, I do it without question. His feet hit the ground first, and he starts striding between tombstones.
When I turn around, I see him running.
Ten
Josh
"Ezra!"
I feel sick, then pissed, as I take off behind him. "Ezra!"
When he doesn't slow, it kick-starts my adrenaline. I jog faster, speeding up enough so that I’m close enough to catch his arm. I grab him at an angle that makes him whirl partway toward me.
"Damn, dude! What did I do?"
His eyes flash like lightning.
"You don't want me touching you?" My fucking voice cracks on the words as I look down at the ground. I squeeze my eyes shut as tears throb behind them. "Sorry."
His hand comes under my chin, squeezing so my body freezes.
"No." He lifts my face so our eyes meet. "I knew if you touched me one more time, I would do this."
And then he steps in closer, wraps a hand around the back of my head, and kisses me so hard and deep I nearly slide to the ground.
The first thought I have, as he makes my limbs go weak and my heart swell up twice its size, is I don’t know how. I don’t know how to kiss him back. I try…as he attacks my mouth—over and over in a gentle, hot, slick rhythm. God, I hope I’m doing this right.
I'm scared till I feel him shaking; his lips pull off mine so he can pant like he’s been running. Then he comes back to me. Hands and mouth…his hips, his pecs pressed to mine. Who’s shaking? It’s both of us. We kiss till my head spins. Until my lips feel bruised and sore and my tongue stings a little from the tangle with his. His teeth nip at my lip, and my whole body does this little tremor.
He pulls back with wide eyes. "Did I hurt you?"
His lips are red. I huff a soft laugh, and his face relaxes. "No." I touch his mouth. "Your lips are swollen."
He looks down. "That's not all."
There's a bulge in his pants. Not a bulge. A rock-hard boner trying to get out. It makes my aching-hard erection throb.
"Fuck," he murmurs as he reaches down to cup me. "Now we've gotta walk home," he rasps, covering a smile with his hand.
"Let me jerk you."
He kisses my lips gently. “Miller, Miller… Who knew you were such an exhibitionist?”
“I can’t walk like this.”
His palm cups me as he grins a wicked grin.
"Let's go over there behind the crypt,” I whisper. “Between it and the brick wall. I'll pull down your pants and—"
"You'll pull down your pants and let me suck you off." He grabs my wrist and starts to lead me that way. Then he cuts his eyes over his shoulder at me, gentling his grip on my arm. He stops walking and steps closer to me, holding my hip as his lips find my neck.
"Can you take your pants down outside and let me blow you? I won't smear it on your abs. I'll swallow every…fucking…drop." He kisses me between each word.
I can barely speak for what he's doing to my throat now.
"What do you say?" He drops a kiss over the spot he just bruised and cups my elbow with his hand.
"I want you," I manage. "Before."
He nibbles at my lower lip, rubbing me through my pants. He rubs so good, my eyes sag shut. I start to press myself against his hand.
"What do you want to do to me?" his low voice murmurs.
"Suck you. Suck your balls and your dick." I'm rubbing him again now. I can feel how hard he is. He's hard for me.
"Let's go," he says. This time, he takes my hand. He leads me into the trees, behind some of the taller crypts, and motions to a soft-looking spot between two saplings.
"You first,” I rasp. My heart's pounding and my cock's throbbing; all I want is to touch him.
"I've got an idea. Lie down. Take your pants down.” I do what he asks, lying on my back in the leaves, and he's pulling his pants down, too. I blink up at him.
Oh fuck...he’s so big. It looks like a living thing under his dark green boxers. I push myself up on an elbow, wanting to pet him through the fabric, but he crouches in front of me, pushing my shoulders down. And then he’s crawling over me. Jesus H., he’s getting into sixty-nine position.
"Suck my balls,” he says, pulling his boxers down so I can see his thick dickhead, “and let me get you off. Then you can...do more if you want to,” he breathes.
Holy shit, his dick is insane. Long and thick and…shit, it’s damn near perfect. There’s no way it’s smaller than eight inches. His balls are big and round and low-hanging.
I’m starstruck for a second. Then the only thing I want is just to touch it. I cup his balls in one sweaty hand, huffing out a laugh as I can barely fit them in my palm. My other hand finds his base, stroking the soft, silky skin over his thick shaft. I’m tightening my abs so I can lean up, wanting to flick my tongue over his sac, when his mouth seals around my cockhead.
"Aghhhh." My hips buck, and he moves his mouth off me. "You okay?"
"Yeah. Please. Fuck."
He chuckles, but his lower body’s trembling just like I am. I can't get his dick into my mouth from this angle, lying under it, but I can run my hand over his long, thick boner, teasing as he wraps his lips around my cock again, sucking me deeper than he has before. My whole body glows with good feels, but I want him more than I want to relax and enjoy. I go for his taint with my tongue, licking once—making him groan and shift his hips away.
"I can’t suck you if you do that."
"Then don't suck."
He does, though. He rolls his tongue around me before swallowing my dick so deep it makes him choke. I stroke the inside of his muscular thigh, then shut my eyes as I pump him with my hand.
He tries to deepthroat me again, groaning around me as I play with his balls—rolling them in my hand, cupping them. When I try to stroke behind them, he lifts himself off me again. Fucker. I grab his dick, squeezing lightly, and I feel him hum around my cock.
He thrusts his hips in time with my stroking, and his mouth swallows me deeper.
“God, Ezra…”
Chills pop out all over my body as my cock’s encased in velvet warmth. His tongue’s thrashing near my base as his throat spasms around my cockhead.
"I'm close…"
His head starts bobbing as he eases some of me out, sucking my head, teasing the tip with his tongue before deepthroating me again. I want to fuck with him, with that huge dick that’s bobbing up above me, but his finger prods behind my balls…finds my hole. I’m moaning as he pulls his mouth off my cock, spits into his hand, and takes me back in, sucking my cock with his cheeks as he smears his saliva around my hole.
As he's sucking me so fucking good my stomach aches from the force, Ezra pushes with his pinkie, working just the tip into me.
"God..." My body bucks all on its own. I'm thrusting into his throat. He sucks me once and then pulls back off.
"Let me get in deeper..." His low voice is shaking.
"Okay,” I moan.
He pushes in more, and I can't help it. I'm filled with his finger—something's in me—and I blow.
It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt from my own hand: a whole-body spasm that rocks me so hard it’s like blacking out as bliss moves through me in a tight, hot, wave that loosens and tingles and then rolls back over again. I don’t even realize that I’m coming in his mouth until I feel him swallowing, and then I open my eyes.
He’s got an arm wrapped under my thigh, and I can see his ribcage moving as he sucks air in through his nose. After a minute, he eases me out of his mouth. His lips brush my tip and then I hear him panting.
Above me, his dick is looking longer, stiffer, pointing almost parallel with his abs despite the tug of gravity. His balls are drawn up nice and taut. I reach up and cup them, and he lets out a loud groan.
“Let me make you come now…”
He doesn’t move, so I tease the inside of his thigh with just a fingertip, and his whole body shudders.
“Miller,” he groans.
He kisses my shaft and then rolls off me, lying on his back in the grass. With his dick jutting up and his cheeks flushed and his lips all swollen red, and this one strand of hair falling over his brow, he looks like the patron saint of secret fucks. He looks young as he peers up at me with dazed eyes. I’m grinning as I crawl atop him, cupping his face.
“Hey angel.” I drag my palm over his throat. I kiss his throat, and then his chin and jaw and then his lips. I kiss him with tongue and taste myself, which makes my stomach do a weird twist.
He likes it. He seems to like my kissing, so I must be doing okay. He grabs onto my head, holding me in place gently, taking it deeper. It’s like last time: fast and hard and desperate, like he knows that one of us will die in half an hour and he’s going to use every second.
When he’s breathing so hard and fast that he can only cup my cheek and lean his forehead against my jaw, he whispers, “It hurts.”
“Your dick hurts?”
I can feel him reaching down to hold himself.
“I can jerk off,” he says in a voice that trembles.
“Fuck no. Are you kidding me?” I kiss his cheek, his lips, and look into his glassy, heavy-lidded eyes. “I want nothing more. I want to suck you off, angel. Make you feel good.”
I reach down between us, wrap my hand around his thick tip.
“I’m not…an angel.” The words are little shivers as I smear his precum around.
“Fuck, that’s so hot.” I drop a kiss on his pec and then crawl down him, settling atop his thick quads.
“Someone’s looking cut as fuck,” I murmur, tracing a line of muscle.
He’s so amped up, the light touch makes him shiver. He moans, and I lean down to lap at his cockhead. Before I start, I look up at him. “Just gonna do a little licking here… Popsicle style.”
