Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
KERIAN
I don’t remember what food I ordered, but I can’t get the taste of Zander out of my mouth.
I meant to tease him, to drive him wild until he either came in his pants or gave in to what I wanted. I wasn’t sure when I lost the plot and made him stick his hand between my legs, but it did a damn good job of fucking me up.
It doesn’t matter, though. In the end, I got what I wanted. Zander is a nervous mess in the passenger seat of my car, and we’re driving toward my apartment.
My empty apartment.
I hope the neighbors are ready to stay up all night, because I have no intention of telling him to be quiet—I want every scream, every moan. I want to hear him say my name like it’s the only fucking word he knows.
“Listen, Kerian. I—” I slide my hand across the console of the car and grab him through his shorts. His words cut off in a sharp gasp, and I know I’m not exactly easy when I squeeze his cock. I can see it, though, the way he’s already spinning this a dozen ways in his head.
“Don’t think too much, Dimples. You’ll hurt yourself.” I’m full of shit—Zander has never come off as one of those stereotypical dumb jocks any time I’ve heard him speak. Sure, his blood has been pumping to the wrong head most of the time we’ve interacted, but I’ve been sure to make that happen.
I’m doing it now when I stroke him rough and fast through his shorts, and he throws his head back with a shudder, spreading his legs even though his eyes are still wide.
He looks…
Nervous.
My mind tries to drift to my first time.
Was I nervous?
Fuck, was I even sober? My teenage years were a blur of football, getting drunk with my friends, and doing everything I could to stay out of my house as much as possible. Everything else was a memory I didn’t want to think of.
So I’m not sure.
But his eyes are just a little wide, and I heard the way he’d started to say my name.
I keep my hand between his legs, alternating between squeezing roughly enough to make him gasp and stroking him until he’s squirming in the seat. I only let him go when I’m in my parking spot at my apartment.
When I turn to open the door, Zander catches my wrist. “Fuck going inside. We can just do it here.”
There’s something new in his eyes now, hot and curling and snaking its way from his expression along the length of my spine in tingling zips that make me light up.
Desire .
“Oh, no. I don’t think so, Braithe. We’re going up to the apartment, and you’re going to take a shower. Trust me.” I open my door and step out, throwing my words over my shoulder to lure him out of the vehicle as I grab our to-go boxes. “You’re going to want to be clean for what I plan on doing to you.”
There’s a beat of silence, then the sound of the car door slamming and heavy footsteps. “What do you mean?”
I just throw a look at him, knowing my eyes probably reflect the same fire as his, because I know what I meant.
“You’ll see.”
He’s silent for a few seconds, until I get to my door and unlock it. “No, but like… really. What do you mean?”
I grab him by his shirt instead of answering, half pulling, half throwing him into the apartment, locking the door behind me. I’ve barely thrown the pizza boxes onto the table when he tries to press into me—fucking eager slut—but I push him down the hall and to the bathroom.
“Now… I want you to go in there and get yourself really clean, Dimples. Don’t miss any spots, or I’ll bring you back and do it myself.” I shove him inside the room, relishing the sight of his wide eyes and the flush crossing his cheeks.
There’s a few more seconds of silence, then a low curse before I hear shuffling. When the water comes on a few minutes later, a smug smile crosses my lips. He might try to resist, but Zander Braithe seems like he really wants to be good for me.
I have to admit, I like the thought of it.
I go to my room, leaving the door open and the light on so he knows where to come, and fish around for a few supplies.
I take my time, making sure the bedspread is smooth and the lube and condoms are in full sight for when he walks through the door. By the time I think to flip on some music, to at least slightly mask the sounds I plan on drawing out of Zander from my neighbors, I hear the bathroom door open.
The sound of footsteps makes me turn, and I have to stop myself from staring. He’s standing there in nothing but my towel, his hands fidgeting at the edges of it and his eyes roaming around anxiously.
“Nice room,” he says faintly. I’m fascinated with the way his eyes bounce to the condoms and lube on the bed and instantly away, like they’re going to reach out and bite him. It’s too late for him to say he wants to take it back… and even if he did, it’s not like he’s trying to run away.
He’s just standing there and staring at me like he’s waiting for instructions.
I stand up and yank my shirt over my head, then crook my finger at him. “Come here, you fucking puppy. Get on the bed.”
His mouth opens and snaps shut like he wants to protest, but the flush that crosses his chest betrays the defiance he’s trying to summon. The shuddery breath he draws in doesn’t really seem to brace him, but he still stumbles across the room and sits down on the edge of my sheets. Zander’s fingers stroke the fabric, and he blows out a breath.
“Of course they’re expensive.”
The jab seems to make him feel better, to give him some kind of balance. I don’t want that, so I step forward and crowd between his legs, pushing him back and watching with satisfaction as his shoulders hit the black fabric.
Fuck, he looks good in my bed, doesn’t he?
When I slide my knee forward, he wriggles back reflexively, and by the time I’ve finished moving, he’s lying back across the king-sized mattress and the towel has dipped so low I can see the perfect V-line trailing across his hips. I drink down the way he takes such good care of his body, so that each muscle stands out and begs for my tongue to trace every inch, to memorize them like a map to some forbidden place I’m about to take him.
Zander glances up at me, and I see it on his face again—the nerves, the anxiety. And beneath that, how fucking turned on and brave he is for being here and leaving himself open to someone who he’s spent his entire college career hating.
Hm. He’s kind of beautiful.
I’d had plans. I wanted to slick my fingers and prep him just enough that he wouldn’t scream abuse the next day, then I wanted to fuck him all night long until he couldn’t walk when I kicked him out.
Plans.
Plans…
Plans, and I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to keep them, because when I pull the towel from his hips and he catches my wrists, glancing down the length of his nude body to his fingers that slightly tremble, I realize I’m not going to make this rough and fast.
“Don’t worry, Braithe. I plan on making you come so hard you’re shouting my name every time you have an orgasm for the rest of your life.”
Zander snorts at how cocky I sound, but he releases my wrists and shifts himself on the bed so he’s lying against my pillows and I can crawl after him. I settle between his legs again, and he braces himself like I’m going to shove my dick right in with no warning.
It actually makes me roll my eyes before I pull the towel away and toss it to the side.
He’s nude while I’m still here in my jeans, and I have to admit there’s something about the imbalance that sizzles through me. I like the feel of having him at my mercy… and I like it even more that a low whimper spills from his chest when I drop my hand and skate my fingers teasingly down the swell of his thigh before hooking the digits behind his knee. When I pull his leg up and press it to the side, he lets out another low sound.
He’s just full of them, isn’t he? A fucking symphony of whimpers and moans playing a song just for me.
My favorite song.
Fuck, I’m not even sure I liked music before this.
A shocked sound spills from his lips when I drop to my stomach on the bed between his hips, but it breaks off into a mixture of a shout and a moan when I set my teeth into his inner thigh and bite down hard enough that I know there’s going to be a bruise the next day.
The thought makes me smirk—is he going to try to hide it? Skip out on showers around his team, hope no one asks what’s going on? Or maybe he’ll make up some kind of lie about the wild night he had with a hot chick he picked up at the club.
The thought drives me just a little wild, and I drift my lips across his skin and bite him again.
“What the fuuummf. ” The curse catches in his chest when I raise my hand and gently roll his balls in my palm. His back arches, and it gives me space to shoulder in further, so I can skim my nose along his ass and take the meat of it between my teeth. This time I suck hard, and it draws another little noise from his throat.
When I pull back to see the bruise already forming on his skin, satisfaction roars through me like a monster. I want this. I want him so marked up that he won’t be able to look at himself in the mirror without knowing I was here.
This is… different. I don’t fuck with intentions .
“K-Kerian?” Zander’s voice comes out in a soft question, and I realize I’ve stopped moving. He’s glancing down his body, and I can see it in his eyes again—desperation, burning white hot, but beneath it a gentle brush of anxiety. Unsureness. Nerves.
“Is something…” He trails off when I suddenly push both his thighs back and spread him wide. He’s all warm and smells like my soap—and he tastes clean when I swipe my tongue against his hole. “Oh, fuck .”
I’ve barely touched him and his thighs are trembling beneath my hands. When my eyes roll up to glance at him as I flatten my tongue and drag it in slow circles around his rim, all I see in his gaze is a cloud of lust, blown out pupils. Want. Desire. Need.
All his attention on me.
Better.
More than better, it’s everything.
My dick is painfully hard in my jeans, but I ignore the sensation and focus on the feast in front of me… because if I’m honest, that’s exactly what Zander Braithe is. I’ve never cared enough to pay attention before. I always make sure my partner orgasms, because I’m not going to let it be said I’m a bad lay, but I’ve never taken the time to truly take someone apart.
I don’t just want to take Zander apart—for some reason, I want to touch every little piece of him to see how it feels.
My hands are greedy when they wrap around his hips, dragging him closer to me while I use my upper-body strength to lift him so I have full access. I’m not neat about it. I’m ravenous when I lick into him, and the low catch of pleasure that hums through his chest is like a drug I know I could get addicted to.
I circle around his rim again and he starts babbling, incoherent and interspersed with little moans.
“Look, Slade, I, mffuck. I’m not—” He gasps when I stiffen my tongue and dip it into the tightness of his entrance, just the slightest bit of a nudge, but enough to bring his back off the bed. “I don’t want… I’m… oh, god, how the fuck are you doing that?” he whines in near protest, actually shoving his forearms beneath him so he can glare down at me.
It gives me the perfect view of the flush creeping up along his chest, the way his lower lip is slightly swollen where he must have bitten it.
It lets me see how much he wants this, though my vision is half obstructed by how hard his cock is, standing at attention like it’s begging me to touch it.
I just arch a brow without answering him and go back to what I was doing, flattening my tongue and applying pressure. I’ve never taken the time to pay this much attention to someone before, but fuck if I don’t love the way his body feels as his ass slowly unclenches and his thighs shake harder. I’m high on the knowledge that I could probably make him come from my tongue alone, drowning in how satisfying it is when the muscles of his hole give so I can press deeper inside him and lick him until he nearly bucks out of my grasp. He’s squirming on me, and my hips rock against the sheets, the uncomfortable friction doing nothing to alleviate how heady this is making me feel. How much I want more.
I squeeze his thighs until he whimpers again and pull my tongue back with a low groan, spreading his cheeks wide so I can see the way he’s open just a bit from my insistence, how his ass looks so hungry for me.
How good it’s going to be when I can feel those tight muscles squeezing around my cock instead of my tongue.
I’m not sure how much more I can take. I move, shifting to nose at his balls until he writhes again as I reach for the lube. When his hand reaches for his cock, I drop his hips and grab hold of his wrist, pulling back just enough to speak.
“Did I fucking say you could touch yourself?”
His eyes go wide, and his dick twitches in front of my face. Even as he tries to mutter something about how I’m not his boss , I can see how much he likes it by the little droplet of precum that spills from his tip.
I’m deliberate when I lean up and swipe my tongue across his slit to taste him.
His shoulders drop, his body rocking back from that simple touch alone. He acts like I took his entire length into my mouth.
“Fuck, you’re such a slut for it, aren’t you, Dimples? You want me to fuck you any way you can get it? You’d probably roll over and beg like a whore if I told you to.”
His eyes widen, and he rises up to glare at me again. It’s nice, seeing that spark of defiance instead of the nerves from earlier. “Fuck you.”
My smile is probably a little mean, but my cock is so hard I feel like I might come in my pants just from the look on his face and the promise of what’s about to happen.
“If that’s the way you want to play it, fine.” I sit up and dribble lube all over my fingers, then come at his spit-slicked ass and drive one in to the knuckle. He jerks like he’s been electrocuted, but I’ve worked him enough that I can see it isn’t from pain.
Zander’s flushed and panting as I slowly drive my finger deeper, then flex it to stroke against his prostate as I pull back.
“Oh… oh shit .” he whispers again, jerking in my hold when I use one hand to pin his wrists to his stomach. “Fuck, Kerian.” He whines my name and my body nearly shudders at the way it sounds.
I fuck him with one finger until he’s rocking against my touch and the wet slip and slide of the lube tells me he’s ready for me. When I add two, he jerks again, his cock giving another twitch as more precum spills out.
It’s easy to shift up so I can use my weight to keep him pinned—it’s intoxicating to get close enough that I can watch his lashes flutter, his lips part. I can see the way his pupils contract and blow wide when I crook my fingers and hit that sweet spot again.
He leans up, gravitating toward me, lost in the sensation of me finger fucking him. His entire body is trembling beneath me, and I can tell he’s about to blow his load without his cock even being touched. I’m getting almost drunk on the way he’s watching my face, on the way he’s staring at me like he’s never seen me before.
No one has ever looked at me like that, like they’re helpless and caught in the gravity of everything I am, everything I can give them.
I want more.
I need him to look at me like that until the universe around him explodes in a wash of obsession—until he admits how much he wants this. How much he needs me.
I need to hear him choking on my name, on sobs, on pleasure.
I need him to belong to me.
So I do the only thing I can do.
I stop, keeping my fingers buried in him to the knuckle. For a second, he’s still writhing, trying to fuck my hand. When he realizes I’m not moving, his mouth drops open.
“W-what are you doing?” His voice is as shaky as his body, and I lean down, running my nose along his jawline so I can whisper in his ear.
“I told you, Dimples. You’re going to beg for it… and when you’re a good boy, I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll be ruined. I’m going to fuck you until you’re wrecked for anybody but me.”