Wrath: A Sinful Secrets Romance, page 21
“Just because I let you fuck with me doesn’t mean you get to be in charge.” He bites at my neck—hard—and rubs the bulge in my pants. “I liked what you did. You’re good, and it felt great. And it was worth it, like you said. But now you’re out and I’m out, to each other at least. Now we’re getting pizza and we’re gonna watch a movie and the time for games is over, angel.”
I want to say I’m sorry for what I did to him. For making everything hurt. But as his lips find mine, I realize I’m not. It’s the only way I could have done it…and it led to this.
Miller kisses deep but gentle, rubbing on me as he does. My hands are going at him too.
He pulls his mouth off mine with a laugh. “We can’t come before pizza.”
“Why not?” I breathe, giving his lower lip a suck.
“I’m not driving thru with cum in my pants.”
That makes me laugh. “Fair enough.” He pulls away, and I rub my sore mouth.
We get the pizza—Hawaiian, which apparently we both like—and eat it in the car as I drive us back. Miller ends up sort of feeding me as we talk about music. I like more classic rock, and he likes that and pop, too. By the time I pull into the driveway, I feel so good. Warm and fed, with my dick hard, wanting to get in and fuck around with him on the couch.
I carry the pizza box and he opens the door. I set it in the fridge as he scrolls the TV for something we can watch. When I get to the couch, he’s got the show True Detective locked and loaded. He’s sitting with his back against one of the couch’s arms and his legs out in front of him. Instead of moving for me, he spreads his legs.
Twelve
Josh
Ezra eases himself down on my left leg, smirking as he rubs his dick against me. Just when I’m reaching to touch it, he leans forward and wraps his arms around my neck.
“Miller,” he rasps just under my ear. “What are you doing to me?”
Our cheeks brush as his lips find mine, his tongue gliding firm but gentle into my mouth as his arm settles around my shoulders. He holds me so close our pecs press together, both our chests pumping as we breathe heavy. His free hand finds my cock through my jeans, cupping it and teasing, trying to stroke through the fabric. He’s rubbing his stiff dick against my leg, but sometimes we get so lost in kissing that he stops moving his hips, putting all his focus on our joined mouths and his hand on my cock.
This is what it’s like to kiss a boy. My head reels.
This is making out. Feels so good.
I love his dick so much it makes me dizzy, but the kissing—fuck. The way he can’t stop even when we both can’t breathe; he goes for little kisses at those moments: soft and quick, no tongue, and once, when we’re both really panting, he presses his cheek to mine, his hand trailing up into my hair.
“You’re so perfect.” Muffled words. His mouth against my neck. I stroke my fingers through his hair, too, tickling down his nape.
“You are.” He feels good atop me. Warm and heavy.
“Is this okay?” His words are soft and raspy. I lean back, to look up into his eyes. I find them glazed and stretched wide, his cheeks pink, lips parted. So I kiss them. We kiss like we’re going for the damn Olympics. When we pull apart to pant again, I whisper near his ear, “You’re a great kisser.”
Then we’re at it again—so gentle it makes me shiver. Little kisses…deeper kisses… His hand’s wrapped around my nape. His other one is rubbing my cock. I’m rubbing him, too. I urge his pants down, giving me more access once he’s only covered by his boxers. Every time my fingers trace the rim of his cockhead through the cotton, his hips jerk a little and he moans into my mouth. We find a rhythm with our hands and mouths, going at it until I’m so close I can’t stop groaning. Both our bodies are strung lust-tight and shaking.
I reach around behind him, urging him to straddle me higher so we can hump each other. He complies, which gives me a rush. But instead of pushing our cocks together and going for the cum explosion, he just peers down at me.
“Whatcha doing?” I ask, smiling.
He blinks, holding his cock with one big hand.
“Taking a breather?”
“You’re fucking me up,” he whispers.
“We’re making each other feel good.”
He nods slowly, holding my gaze.
“You good, dude?”
He nods again, still looking wide-eyed.
I reach out and rub his chest through his shirt, feeling for his nipple. When I squeeze, he sucks a sharp breath in. I sit up so I can kiss him better.
“Gay is the way, amirite?” We both laugh.
Goddamn, this is everything I’ve wanted and more. He’s so fucked up, his kisses are now open-mouthed and sloppy. I can feel a sheen of sweat through his shirt, feel his muscles trembling. Pretty sure I am, too.
The next time we pull apart, I get off the couch and kneel down on my knees beside it.
“Lie down, angel.”
His eyes hold mine for a second before he lies on his back, closes them, and lays his hand over his dick.
“Let it out.” I’m grinning. “Look how thin the boxers are. They’re gonna rip.”
He keeps his eyes closed as he slowly works the boxers down his ass—there’s a moment where his dick goes boiinngg—before pulling them down his hair-dusted quads.
“Oh, fuck me. Dude, you’re beautiful. You know that?” I ask.
I grab hold of him, feeling my cock throb hard at the sight of his monster erection. I drag my palm over his thick tip, stunned by how perfect he is.
“You could be a model, angel. Every single inch of this is gorgeous.”
I cup under his balls, squeezing gently. He lets out a loud moan.
“Tell me that feels good and that I didn’t hurt you,” I whisper.
His hand comes on top of mine, fingers encircling my wrist. He pushes my hand over his dick. He groans, “Good.”
“You wanna get off again? Right here on the family couch?”
I rise up on my knees a little more and try to suck him from the side. I can’t get the angle right, but I don’t think he notices. Ezra’s panting harder, lifting his hips up to try to help me. I hold his balls, which are feeling tauter, fuller.
“You need to get off, huh?”
He lifts his eyes open and blinks up at me, his lips parted as he pants. I give his cock a long suck.
“Do you know how much I fucking love it when you look at me that way?”
He smiles—just a twitch of his lips.
I decide to climb up on his legs to suck him off from a better angle, but when I’m on the couch, he sits up and goes at my pants.
“Got an idea,” he says roughly.
He frees my dick and wraps a hand around it, pulling me toward him by my cock and scooting closer at the same time with his knees spread. I realize with a flash of need through my cock that he wants us pressed together.
“Fuck yeah.”
The position is a little awkward, but so worth it. Ezra grabs us both and rubs our long, thick shafts together.
“Feels so good,” I rasp.
He wraps both of his hands around us, and my hips start fucking moving. Both of us are thrusting, groaning. He leans up and kisses my chin. Then his hands tighten around the two of us, and we start working toward a rhythm.
Every time he grips our cockheads, rubbing them together, I see stars. His hand works both of our shafts, his dick rubbing against mine a millisecond out of time with his hand’s stroking in a way that nearly blows my damn mind.
He’s only been jerking us for a minute or two when I feel my balls draw up. My junk gets that tight, full, about-to-blow sensation, and I grip his shoulder, bow my head down. His hand comes below my balls and holds them.
“Hey, DG,” he whispers. “You’re about to come for me.”
Then he presses our cockheads together, grips just underneath them, and does something with his two squeezing hands that makes his words come true like magic. I come so hard I’m not aware of anything but so much pleasure that it makes my abs clench and my throat tighten. It moves through me in tight, golden cum waves, leaving me tired enough to fall asleep on top of him. I’m vaguely aware that I came all over his stomach, but I’m too spent to move.
By the time I open my eyes, I realize I’m probably crushing him. I laugh, trying to find words, and he leans up so he can kiss my throat.
I look down and find his hand still loosely around us. We’re both covered in cum. Our dicks look good together. So good that mine twitches like it wants round two.
Ezra laughs, and his firms up a little bit, too.
“This is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” I confess.
“Hard same.”
We both laugh at that. I pull off my shirt and clean us up as he leans his head back on the couch and closes his eyes.
When I’m finished wiping our jizz up, I trace a hand over his six-pack.
“Perfect angel,” I whisper.
“You.” He grips my hip with his damp hand, moving backward to the curve of my ass. “Fuck.” He grits his teeth, looking like he’s in pain.
“You okay?”
Ezra laughs, dragging his eyes open. “This is fucking nuts. When I’m with you, I come like—”
“Like what?” I whisper, grinning.
“It’s like a drug. Like my dick’s fucking pumped on something. Even now” —he reaches down to palm himself— “I bet I could get off again. Like, five minutes.”
He runs his hand over my abs just above my cock.
“I want to suck you again,” he says. “All the time.” He sounds so enthusiastic, even as he looks fucking exhausted. It makes me laugh.
“I’m surprised to hear this,” I say, smiling into his eyes.
“I know,” Ezra whisper-moans. His eyes shut. “Cause I’m a liar.” He looks up at me again, not speaking for a moment. “You’re the only one I could have done this for. With,” he murmurs.
He puts his arm around my shoulders, pulling me down on him. He wraps his leg over mine and locks an arm around my lower back.
“Dude, just looking at you makes me wanna come.” He kisses my hair. “Even how you fucking smell. It gets into me.” His words are soft moans. “I knew…”
“What did you know, angel?”
“I knew when I let you touch me. If I tasted you—”
He sounds breathless as his hand goes in between us. “Look.” I look down. He’s clutching a full-on boner. “I could go again,” he whispers.
“Feel me,” I laugh.
I got wood again a second ago, when his lips tickled my hair.
“Jesus. Let’s go upstairs. I’ve got another idea, but I think we need a bed.”
Up in my room, Ezra shows me side-lying sixty-nine. When he’s sucking my dick, he pushes a finger into me, and it’s mind-bendingly amazing. We come at almost the same time, both swallowing, and I feel weak and dizzy and incredible when I lift my head.
“How ya feel?” he whispers, looking tired but sleepy.
“Amazing,” I manage. “You?”
“Too good,” he murmurs.
I shift so we’re facing one another. So I can look into his eyes and push his hair back off his forehead.
“There’s no such thing as too good, Ezra.” On a whim, I wrap an arm around him, pulling him up against my chest.
“Only with you,” he whispers, with a heavy-lidded smile. He looks happy. He looks sated. He looks like mine—for just the smallest moment.
Then his body gives a little twitch, and he’s asleep.
Thirteen
Ezra
“Hey…” Something soft plays in my hair. “We have to go soon.”
DG.
“Already got a shower, tried to let you sleep,” he murmurs.
Oh shit! The hospital! I grab his hand, bring his palm to my mouth, brush my lips against it.
Then I let his hand go, make myself sit up. Shit, I’m sore—like I’ve been in the same position for the whole damn weekend.
“Did I sleep all night?” I frown around his room, as if it knows the answers.
“Just about,” Mills says. “You stirred a time or two, but no real waking up.”
“Damn. I don’t remember waking up.” Is that possible?
“That’s good,” he says softly.
I allow myself to look up at Mills. Blue eyes under a mop of wavy, dark brown hair…freckles on his cheeks…those soft lips that I like to lick and nip. My dick twitches, which makes me laugh—an awkward, husky sound.
Is this shit real?
Mills drops down beside me, wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulls my face against his shoulder. Warm Miller. I wait for him to say something, or do something, but he doesn’t. He’s just holding me against him. Letting me wake up.
“You smell good,” I whisper.
“It’s just soap.” I hear him smiling.
I kiss his throat. He kisses my lips—a little brush of his mouth on mine. I kiss him back and deepen it, because I love the way his tongue feels. Kissing him is so much better than I ever knew it would be.
He pulls away to smile at me and whisper, “You’re an amazing kisser.”
I feel my ears burn. “You are.” I get up fast, before this goes too far. “Be back.”
I shower quick and throw on black jeans and an old Johnny Cash T-shirt with some black chucks. My hair is still damp when I walk into his room, finding him lying on his back on the little brown love seat beside his dresser.
He sits up when he sees me, giving me a small smile.
“Ready, Millsy?”
He gives me a funny little narrowed-eyed look, like he’s jokingly objecting to the nickname.
“What? I can’t call you Millsy?”
“I don’t know.” He gives a quiet sigh as he gets up. “I guess I’ll accept it.” He means to tease, but his energy is too downbeat for that. He’s quiet as he gets his keys and wallet off his dresser, scoops his phone off the duvet.
Shit, I guess he must be feeling down.
Of course he is. Fuck.
“Let’s get some lunch on the way,” I say as we start down the stairs. “What do you like?”
“No lunch.”
I look back at him. “How come?”
“I have to get an MRI…or I might? My mom forgot to tell me, or maybe she didn’t know. I got an automated text last night, though. Telling me don’t eat.”
Well, shit. “You ever had one?” I ask.
“Yeah. It’s been a long time, though. I don’t remember it well.”
I should tell him I’ve had one. That they’re not so bad.
“I think they’re not too bad,” I say as the sunlight from the skylight slats over my face. “My mom had one once. It’s just lying down on a table, and the table slides into this machine. It’s loud, but you wear headphones. Then it’s over.”
“Seems like they might put me to sleep for it,” he says. “If they don’t want me to eat.”
I look back at him, trying to fight the somersaulting feeling in my stomach. “You ever done that? Gone to sleep?”
He nods as I open the front door for him.
“Broke my ankle when I was a kid,” he says.
“They had to surgerize it?”
“Surgerize?” That makes him laugh, which makes my chest feel less tight. As we approach my car, I really want to fucking hug him before we get in. But I can’t bring myself to do it. Even when he’s sad and pensive, DG is so fucking good. He’s way too good for me, in every way. I can fuck around with him for a while, ease us both for right now, but he’ll never really be mine.
Something hits me as I reach for the passenger’s side door. “Hey, you wanna go in your car instead? So it feels like home?”
He gives me a cute, squinty-eyed smile with his nose scrunched. “I don’t think so. Your car smells like Bubble Yum.”
“Bubble Yum it is.” I open the door, and DG climbs into my Jeep. For a second, my Chucks are pasted to the ground as I drink in the way his body moves. How bulky he is. Sturdy. Still somehow elegant. He’s beautiful and so fuck hot it nearly kills me.
Last night we sucked each other’s cocks and fell asleep together…
I rip my thoughts away from that and blink at him here in the moment. He’s got on a lime green Polo and khaki cargo shorts with white Jordans. He’s looking sharp as shit.
I can’t help telling him that, even though it’s better if I don’t act like a boyfriend. “Lookin’ good, man.”
I walk around the Jeep before he has a chance to answer. It hits me: I wonder if he’s dressing for the doctors. A lot of them are judgmental as fuck, and they have a whole damn lot of power. I feel sick at that thought as I slide behind the wheel. Mills should never have to see a doctor. All the pain that people go through—it should skip right over him. I’d take some of it if I could. Fix that karma for us.
I crank the Jeep and try to give him what I hope is a reassuring smile. He smiles back. It’s strained, though.
We start off the drive with gum, which helps with the tight-chest feeling I get when I don’t smoke right after waking up. I notice Mills is mostly looking out the window. Shifting around in his seat like he’s not comfy. He’s nervous. I can feel it. I don’t know what to say about it. Probably don’t need to mention it directly.
I could always suck his dick on the way. Just pull over somewhere…
I’m sort of zoned out, driving local roads toward the highway that will take us down to Birmingham, when DG lets out a laugh.
“Dude! What’s going on there?”
I blink, and I realize I’ve got my hand on my dick. And I’ve got serious wood. I cut a wide-eyed look at him and try to tuck the thing between my legs.
He snickers. “You’re like…driving, dude.”
