Chapter 16
Avery
I was in trouble.
Pulling in a deep lungful of Brandon’s intoxicating smell wasn’t enough. I wanted to taste him, to drag my tongue up his neck and make my way to those pouty lips of his and see just how soft they were pinched between my teeth.
I couldn’t stop the slow thrusts, letting my eyes fall closed with each press of my dick against his, hardening until it was almost painful. Some primitive part of my brain was overtaking the rational side of me, the one screamed to take a step back and let Brandon go.
His fingers were wrapped around the front of my shirt in a death-like grip, another delicious sounding gasp falling from his lips the moment I gave in and let my tongue swipe at the skin right below his ear.
Oh, fuck.
What would happen if I reached down between us and pulled both of our cocks out and began rubbing them together?
How many more sounds would come tumbling out of Brandon’s mouth?
What other noises was he capable of making while being turned on?
Hands shoved at my chest hard enough to knock me back. I stumbled, just barely catching my own footing before I ended up ass-backward on the floor. Panting, I swallowed thickly while trying to blink the cloudiness out of my vision.
The tent in the front of my pants was obvious, there was no way to get around that. Even if I wanted to try and explain it away, what was no point. Not when I’d just been grinding up against Brandon like that.
Fuck, he was going to tell me to go to hell.
I’d be lucky if I didn’t get a good fist to the face before he ran out of here and never saw me again.
His eyes were pinballing between my own, searching for something that I wasn’t too sure he’d end up finding no matter how hard he looked. There was no rational explanation to any of this—none that I could articulate, at least.
Whatever happened to my brain the morning after going out with Marlow and Silas had caused some fundamental change in me. One where getting turned on by my childhood best friend’s soft moans and the smell of his sweat-soaked skin was completely normal.
The first step Brandon took toward me had some hesitation behind it. A tentativeness that wasn’t lost on me, nor would be questioned. Clearly, we were walking on a thin tightrope here with neither of us knowing what the fuck we were doing. Where the fuck any of this was going.
He took another, and then another until he was close enough to me again to shove me backward. “On the bed.”
My heart thumped in my chest.
Obediently, I stepped back until the back of my knees hit the side of my bed, tipping back until my ass was planted firmly on the edge of it. His hands clenched and unclenched into fists at his sides, an unsure expression passing over his face while he scoped down the length of me.
A part of me wanted to ask if he liked what he saw. The other didn’t want to know. Rejection from him would sting like a bullet blasting through my body, mowing down everything in the path of its trajectory.
His clothes were slightly wrinkled from where I’d had a hold of him, the impression of my handprints just visible enough to me to stir up some weird psychologically possessive part of my brain that relished in the thought of marking him.
“Lie down.” His voice was soft, barely above a whisper.
I scooted back onto the bed, doing as I was told, my arm coming up to prop my upper half up from the mattress to keep my eyes on him.
My cock throbbed painfully in my pants, begging for attention. Being this turned on was new to me. Hooking up with women was usually a one-and-done kind of situation. A get in and get out while making sure both parties got their rocks off by the end.
There was never any of this build up. The tight tug in my gut that only grew worse the longer I neglected touching myself or reaching out and grabbing at the person currently making it hard to breathe in here.
Was this just Brandon’s doing?
Or something else entirely?
I’d never once questioned my sexuality in all of my years on this god-forsaken planet. Had never once felt the burning desire to pin him down and see how far both of us could take things until we called chicken and scrambled off each other.
So what the hell was any of this?
Some weird mistranslation in my brain that was converting my missing him into sexual need?
I held my breath when he climbed onto the bed, his hand resting against my chest and giving it a gentle push to make me collapse completely onto the mattress. My heart was beating so hard in my chest that it had to be audible.
Once he was settled next to me, Brandon moved his palm back down my chest to my abs, leaving a fiery line in its wake. Two fingers were then hooked under the band of my sweats, freezing there the moment my dick twitched under the fabric.
Fuck, this was actually torturing me.
Grabbing onto his wrist, I forced him to drag the band down past my hips, kicking myself up just enough to get it past the length of me and free my poor dick. It slapped against my belly, the head of it already oozing precum and wetting my t-shirt where it rested.
“Jesus,” he huffed.
I had half a mind to be embarrassed. To apologize and tuck myself away and pretend none of this ever happened. But that naked hunger in his eyes stopped me from moving at all, keeping me still while he smoothed his hand down the length of me and then gripped me at my base.
He squeezed lightly, drawing another painful squeeze of my balls as more precum drooled from my slit.
A pitiful noise escaped me. I’d had plenty of blowjobs in my life. Some good, some bad. Some in between that bordered on indifference. All of them were a means to an end.
None of them had ever made me feel like this.
Brandon lowered his mouth until his lips were hovering over the crown of my cock, his eyes darting up to meet mine briefly before he slipped it into his mouth.
I nearly came then, the grandiose effort to keep myself from jacking my hips to drive myself deeper into his mouth was barely registering in my mind.
“Fuck.” That hot, wet heat was going to kill me.
Obviously, Brandon would be good at this. He had the practice under his belt and however many notches that accompanied it. Anything involving a dick would be his area of expertise and I was the poor, unfortunate soul at his mercy.
He treated my cock like a precious thing, opening his mouth up just enough to curl his tongue around under the head and clean up the mess that had collected there.
Tilting his head to the side, he dragged his lips down to where his hand was holding me up, leaving a wet trail behind that he used as a kind of lube while stroking me.
The friction from his hand, coupled with his mouth, was too much and not enough at the same time. I wanted more—didn’t know if I could handle it, either.
Belatedly, I realized how hard I was gripping my sheets when my hands were starting to cramp up. But letting go meant that I’d be tangling my fingers into Brandon’s hair and forcing that talented mouth back down onto my cock until my balls were shooting cum down his throat.
Fuck, that image in my mind was hot.
Why was it so hot?
He worked his way back up to the head, sealing his lips around it and then working me deeper into his mouth. He bobbed his head slowly, his cheeks a flushed red that matched the rosy color of his slightly swollen lips.
The second he snuck his other hand into my pants to cup my balls and roll them gently, I was done for.
My hips jacked up, nearly choking him while I spilled into his mouth.
My body strained from the effort, coming hard enough to have me gasping for air like I’d been held under water for ten minutes.
When it was finally over, I slumped back down onto the mattress.
“Holy shit...” was all I could think to say.
The last thing I heard while my eyes slid shut was Brandon’s soft laughter.