Wrath: A Sinful Secrets Romance, page 28
Pretty soon, he’s got me milked dry. My dick’s still buzzing, my balls pulsing with bliss as I run my hands down Miller’s shirt-clad shoulders. I shift my hips so I can rub between his legs with my knee, and I find his cock hard as all hell.
I run my fingers through his hair. “Somebody wants it.”
“Need it,” he rasps. “But you might be sore from the floor.” His eyes search mine, looking concerned, even as they’re glazed and sagging shut.
“Shut the fuck up, Millsy.”
I laugh and pull off my shirt, ball it up and hand it to him. “Lie on your back. Pants down, knees up like a good boy.”
I’m surprised to find he’s wrong—despite the screaming post-game soreness in every fucking muscle I have, my dick and brain have never felt so good. I want to help him feel this good, too.
I feel my dick perk up again as he pulls his cock out, works his briefs and his shorts down to his quads. Goddamn, those balls. That whole fucking package.
“You’re hung like a horse, Josh Miller.” I get on my knees between his legs, pulling my boxers and my shorts back up over my boner.
“Don’t do that,” he says.
“It got its turn.” I smile. Then I run my hands over his long legs—such thick muscle, such soft skin…his little fine hairs, gold from being in the sun…and when I trace a finger up beside his heavy ball sac, Miller fucking shudders, and he makes this soft gasp sound.
Nearly makes me come again the way his cock juts higher as his balls draw up before my damn eyes.
“Oh, baby. I’m about to suck you dry. You’re gonna come so hard you can’t see straight. I can give you a finger, too.”
His cum-buzzed face stills, as if he’s thinking on that, and I start to lick my middle finger. “Only if you want it.”
He nods, holding my gaze, and this warm burst spreads through my chest—because he’s mine. This perfect boy is all mine. His cheeks flush, and I realize he looks almost guilty.
“Do you want it?” I murmur, and he nods.
“Before us, did you ever practice with something?” I whisper.
His cheeks flame up so damn red. My dick throbs and my balls tighten as he rasps, “My finger. A time or two.”
“Oh Jesus, Mills. You wanna do it yourself?” I would fucking love to see him fill his bottom with one of those nice, thick fingers.
“You,” he whispers. He’s shut his eyes and now he’s stroking his cock slowly. “Fuck, Ez—it’s like I’m buzzing…”
“Yeah, you’ve got a cum buzz. Lemme in here…” I scoot closer, urging his knees wider. I cup his balls, tickle my fingertips over his big sac. That makes him shudder again.
“Fuck,” he whimpers.
“Sensitive, are we?”
“They got sore.”
“You get hard blowing me?”
“So hard.” He flexes his legs, which makes that round ass flex. I lean down and gobble back his fat erection. I suck him in deep, until my throat hurts like hell, and he moans and his hips buck.
“I’m sorry,” he slurs.
I suck my cheeks in around him as I lift his balls out of the way. I let my finger tease his crack as I swallow him past the point that I think I can take him, deep enough so that I’m almost choking and saliva’s flowing. Then I close my eyes and really focus, blowing him the way I think would feel good to me.
I’m proud of how fast I’m able to get him close—too close. He’s writhing around and gripping the back of my head, saying, “oh fuck” over and over like a drunken sing-song.
I suck once more, gentle, and ease him out of my mouth.
“Not yet,” I rasp. I wet my finger again, and when it’s dripping and he’s started rubbing his own dick, peeking his eyes open to find out why I stopped the party, I pull his cheeks apart. I trace around his hole, just teasing, making an effort to jostle his balls around.
Then I bring my finger up to my mouth and spit one more time, to be sure it’s nice and slick.
“I didn’t—”
I glance at him.
“I didn’t do…whatever people do,” he says. “To clean out.”
I smile at how red his face is. “Just one finger, Millsy. I’ll get to your sweet spot but I can’t get too deep. We’re okay. You ready?”
I’m gonna fucking come from this, I swear—I’m so close.
He nods, spreading his knees wider for me. My balls ache like I just got kicked.
“Okay, good boy. Relax for me.”
I prod at him, pushing gently, and I can feel him loosen up to take me. I push straight in, firm but careful. I don’t know what happens, but I guess I get his prostate the second my finger’s all the way in.
Miller groans and twitches. I see cum spill from his cockhead. Then his body shudders, he barks out a moan, and he comes so damn hard—a cum eruption all over himself and my wrist.
When his eyes flip open, he looks startled, wowed, amused, then wowed again. I laugh and he laughs, and then I lean down and lap some off his dick.
He jerks, and I realize maybe it’s too sensitive for me to do that. I lick a little off his hip, and then I stand up, drop my shorts and boxers, take the boxers off, then pull my shorts back up and crouch back down so I can clean him with my boxers.
“Fucking porn star shit,” I grin, wiping damn near all the real estate between his navel and his quads.
He looks almost frightened as he peers up at me. “Dude. What did you do?”
His alarmed face—the blue eyes and the freckles, and this little curl of hair on his forehead. I can’t help a soft laugh. “I think I got your prostate. On the first try.”
“You just…touched it with your finger like that?”
I laugh again, because I honestly don’t know. “I guess. What did it feel like?” I swallow as his face transforms again, this time into reverence.
“It was like…a bullet out of…heaven. Like this hot, flushed, supercharged good feeling, going all down through me. Even up. Like magic. Not like jerking off. It was good the other times you messed with me, but this.” He widens his eyes. “Have you done it to yourself? This isn’t like the time I used my finger,” he confesses softly.
“Your eyes are so wide.” I lean back down and kiss the soft skin of his inner thigh. Then I lift my head so he can see me. “You’re such a prize. You know that?” I rub my hand over his leg, gripping it lightly just so he knows whose he is. “That’s why Arnie wants you. Everyone who knows you is gonna want you. You’re the perfect package, Miller.” I smirk, but my throat aches as I look down at him. “I worry I messed you up,” I manage hoarsely.
He pushes up on his elbow. “Why? What do you mean?”
I pull his underwear up for him. I don’t know if I can look at him right now, so I need something to keep busy.
Miller lifts his backside to draw the briefs over his ass, and I grab his shorts from around his knees, tugging them up, too.
“You know,” I say, soon as I can find my fucking raspy voice. “That shit I said…back when I was being a prick.” I swallow hard and make myself look back up at him. “I hate that I said that dumb shit to you. I was…scared.” I cover my eyes with my hand, in case a rogue tear slips out. I feel sick with regret when I think about that. I’d do anything to take it back.
I uncover my eyes, biting on the inside of my cheek to keep my voice from cracking. “Anyone who acts like that because they’re scared is selfish and a coward. And not good enough for you, dude.”
This one stupid tear spills. I wipe it and start to get to my feet, but Miller’s on me. His arms lock around my waist.
“Ez,” he whispers, hugging me tight. “Even after everything, you still think I need to be warned off? Like a damsel at the ball or something?”
I laugh. “No.” More tears leak out and drip. “Not like a damsel. Like a prince.”
Miller scoots in closer, hugging me so damn tight.
“You saying I’m a prince? I can’t be the prince, Ezra. Because you are. I’m a freckled farm boy, best case.” He lifts his head. He’s close enough to kiss. His blue eyes seem to burn right through me.
“Listen to me,” he says. I feel like I’m falling into his eyes, even as I’m held in his arms. “You’re not the bad guy, angel. I can feel it. Whatever happened…to—” He swallows, his eyes widening and his face looking nervous as he struggles to avoid poking my sore spots. “That shit’s not real now. Not while we’re together. You feel me?” His hand rubs over my tight chest. “Right now, all that’s real is you and me. And we’re here together.”
His eyes are so blue. I fucking swear, they’re seeing right through mine. Emotions flicker over his face as if he’s watching a movie. Then he blinks, breaking the spell, and leans a fraction away.
“All that shit is in the past now.” His hand cups my shoulder. “I’m your person. And you’re my guy. Don’t you wanna be my guy, Ez?”
I nod. My throat stings so bad that I can’t even say it.
“All I want is you to be honest with me,” he says softly.
I want to say I don’t know how. But I hear myself say, “Okay.”
His lips brush kisses over my eyelids, my temple. “Let’s go outside, angel. Sit in the grass.”
I nod and manage to stand up first, so I can give him a hand. For a second after he’s on his feet, we stand there smiling. I kiss his cheek, even though I still feel cringey and embarrassed.
His hand comes around the back of my head, and he presses my cheek against his. “You want to go home? Take a hot shower and watch a movie or something?”
I shake my head, closing my eyes. “I want the grass.”
“You want a blow job in the grass?” I feel his cheek smiling against mine.
“I want to hold you in the grass,” I whisper. “Just for a little while.”
So that’s what we do. Miller leads me to the house’s ancient-looking cemetery, crypts rising like spires under tall, moss-draped trees. There’s a brick wall around the ornate-looking markers. I look around the grassy acreage, which runs all the way to the cliffside overlooking the lake, and all the way back in the other direction to the train tracks. I didn’t even notice the beauty last time I was here.
Miller leads me to a tree that’s got a rope-and-wood-plank swing on one side. He walks around the other side and sinks down with his back against the trunk, the way he said he would. The tree is big and mossy. The grass is thick and bright green—a lot of clovers. Everything smells like the river.
I sit by him, feeling hot and sore and good and weird, and he urges me down into his lap, draping an arm over my back. I wrap my arms around his waist, and his hand comes up under my shirt, stroking chills onto my skin.
“A long time ago, this was a spot for Creek Natives. You know what they called it?” he asks.
I shake my head against him, and his fingers draw a line on my back.
“The point of beginning. Before some of the cliffs fell down into the water, it was an easy access point onto the Chattahoochee River.”
I feel him go still. Just as I notice his body feels tense, he blows a long breath out.
“Ez.” My name’s a whispered groan. “Is this where you parked?”
I nod, feeling grateful that my face is pressed against his lap.
“Shit. I didn’t even think about it.” His hand caresses my back as he blows another breath out. “I didn’t mean to bring back…”
“Nah, dude, don’t be sorry.”
His hand, gentle, rubbing circles…moving up to stroke my shoulders.
“I can’t stand to think about it,” I whisper.
His hand plays in my hair. “It had to be so fucking scary. I’m so sorry, angel.”
My eyes sting and my throat aches as I say, “Not because of that.” I hug him harder, drawing my knees up toward my chest. “What I hate is that I left you there…in your boat.” Miller’s hand cups my head. “I left you twice,” I choke out. “Two times when you needed me there.”
I’m not a good person. I’m not a good lover—even though I want to love him so good. A tear drips onto his shorts, and I feel like a broken child…always hungering for Miller. His warmth, his gentle hands, his steadiness.
“You’re with me every night now,” he whispers after a moment. “Every night, I’m just as happy as the last one. Did you know that? It’s not wearing off.” He gives a soft laugh as his arm locks tight around me. “Everything about this shit with us makes me so happy. It’s like drugs or something. I’m addicted to you.” He laughs again, stroking my back. “I only need one thing.”
“What?” I force myself to whisper.
His arm tightens on me, and I feel him inhale. He blows the breath out, and when he speaks, his voice is raspy. “Don’t leave me again.”
I nod, and for a second I can’t find my voice. When I do, I sit up, so I can look at him when I promise, “I won’t.”
Half Time
One
Josh
“Holy hell!” Jenna’s stomping her feet on the cement bleachers beside me. My hand’s pressed over my mouth. Then Ezra runs into the end zone, and the whole damn stadium jumps up screaming.
“Oh my God!” Jenna’s tugging on my elbow, jumping up and down.
“I’m going home,” somebody laughs in front of us.
My eyes are locked on Ezra as he runs back toward the sideline. Coach Nix claps his back. Someone—Brennan—hugs him.
I watch as he talks to two others who have their backs facing away from us and then sits on the bleachers. Coach Nix puts a towel on his neck and something weird twists in my stomach.
“I have never seen a high school game with numbers like this,” Jenna says.
Scoreboard’s 72 v. 27 — Fairplay. Ezra ran the ball and scored three touchdowns all on his own. I don’t know how many yards he passed for, but it had to be a ton. Three or four times, he threw almost the length of the field.
Now he’s standing again, swiping a hand back through his damp hair. I can see his shoulders rising and falling. Marcel comes to stand beside him, clapping him on the shoulder. He sits back down. Someone passes him a water bottle.
“Josh...” Jenna grabs my elbow. “You can sit back down now.”
I blink at her, and she sings the first two lines of Pink Floyd’s “Comfortably Numb.”
“Hello...is there anybody in there? Just nod if you can hear me...”
I laugh—it sounds fake—and she gives me a deep frown. “I said, I bet they’re gonna run the clock down.” She claps her hands. “That’s the game. Your stepbrother is a superstar!” Her eyes narrow. “Why do you look like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like someone kicked your puppy. Is this gonna make his ego too big?” Her mouth rounds into a little “o,” and she nods. She mouths, “Your dad.”
I roll my eyes. My dad’s sitting on the first row, right behind the home team’s setup. He’s been cheering like a maniac the whole time.
“I don’t give a fuck about him. He should be happy. We won.”
She gives me a look that says she’s not sure she believes me, but she lets it drop. “The party after this...” She laughs. “It’s going to be crazy.”
“Where are people going?”
“You’re living in a bubble, Joshua. We’re all going to Sunny’s land.”
Ahh. Sunny Gardner.
“Josh.” Jenna laughs, and I rip my eyes away from Ezra. “What are you doing?” Again with the searching look.
“Fuck off,” I laugh.
She leans in and whisper-hisses, “You’re watching someone. Who is it?”
“I’m watching my dad, dude.”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re a shitty liar.”
Then the game is over, and I’m saved by all the chaos. Getting off the bleachers, saying “hey” to everyone we know, from Sunday school teachers to the manager at Winn-Dixie. I bump into my mom and Carl at ground-level, and Carl looks like he just watched a rocket launch. Honestly, so does my mom.
“Josh!” My mom hugs me. “Wasn’t that amazing?”
I nod, and then start walking with them so everyone bottle-necking behind us doesn’t get pissed off.
“We’re going to see him. Do you want to come?” My mom says. “Hello, Jenna.”
It’s decided that we’ll all go to greet Ezra as he walks out of the locker room.
“I hope it won’t embarrass him,” my mom says. “I didn’t even think to do this after the first few games.”
I snort. “Never worried about that with me.”
She gives me a mock outraged look, and I shoot her a grin.
It takes about five minutes to get to the locker room exit. My stomach twists into a pretzel, wondering if he’ll look at me first, and if he’ll guard his face around them. I don’t know how he used to give me poker faces, but it turns out he’s not that smooth. Today when we passed each other in the hall, his whole damn gorgeous Ezra face went soft and focused on me, which made me feel so weird. Good weird.
I blink as he comes through the big, metal door. As soon as my gaze sweeps him, I get a gut-punched feeling and rip my eyes away. A millisecond later, I’m drinking him in—the sleeveless white T-shirt and purple gym shorts. His face—he looks tired—and then his eyes are on mine but I look down, and everybody’s talking at once.
Carl’s really sweet with him. I don’t know what he says, but when I look up, he’s hugging Ezra really hard, and Ezra’s eyes flicker to mine, and I can see him looking happy even though he’s not smiling. I can feel it.
Mom says stuff to him, and he seems embarrassed. I bet his ears are red, but it’s too dark here in the dim light to be sure. And then it’s my turn.
“Dude, that was amazing,” I manage. “How’d you run it so much?” I try to sound like it’s shop talk.
He gives me this little sideways smile. “I’m a runner,” he says.
Motherfucker lets his eyes do this little smolder thing, like he’s sex-camming and he’s being coy with me. It gets my dick up, and my fucking heartrate. And when I look at Jenna, I can tell she saw it, too.
