Chapter 5 #4
“This is ridiculous,” I muttered, yanking my T-shirt over my head with more force than necessary. “You’re making this way more complicated than it needs to be.”
“I’m being practical.” He propped himself up on one elbow, watching me with open amusement as I kicked off my jeans, underwear, and socks.
My face burned as I finished stripping, trying not to look as awkward as I felt. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Guilty.” His gaze dragged over me with shameless appreciation. “But you’re the one who stripped in under thirty seconds, so who’s really enjoying it?”
“Shut up,” I grumbled.
He patted the space beside him. “Come here.”
I hesitated for half a second before scooting closer to him, hyperaware of every place our bare skin touched. The heat of his body against mine made my brain screech like a hyperactive banshee.
“Much better,” Harley murmured. He didn’t give me any time to second-guess my life choices.
He reached over and took my hard-on in hand, working it like a seasoned pro.
My brain went fully offline at how good it felt to have him touching me, which made it easier for me to return the favor.
It was awkward from my angle, forcing me to move closer to him to get a better grip.
Wrapping my hand around him was like trying to hold a roll of jumbo paper towels when I was accustomed to a toilet paper tube.
Holy shit, my fingers could barely meet around his girth.
What the hell was I supposed to do with that beast?
Why hadn’t I been given an instruction manual or at least a safety briefing before attempting to handle such a genetic marvel?
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, genuinely astounded by what I was holding.
It was less a dick and more a work of art that belonged in a gallery.
I had to adjust my entire approach, feeling like I’d only ever driven automatic cars, and suddenly, I had to be an expert on driving a stick shift.
There were clearly techniques involved that I was woefully unprepared for.
I gripped Harley’s impressive length harder when he swiped his thumb over my sensitive head, making me shudder.
It was downright unfair how skilled he was.
A simple hand job from him was already better than the actual sex I’d had with most of my exes.
He knew when to squeeze tighter, when to slow down, and how to draw out the pleasure.
Meanwhile, I was grappling with what felt like an industrial-sized version of a regular dick.
With mine, I could easily cover the whole thing from base to tip in one smooth stroke.
With Harley’s, I had to pick which third to focus on.
It was like the difference between admiring a grand masterpiece in a museum and settling for a postcard version.
I could only hope it didn’t feel as awkward for him as it did for me.
“Harley,” I gasped as he twisted his wrist on the upstroke in a way that made my toes curl.
“I love hearing my name on your lips,” he murmured against my ear, his hot breath sending shivers racing through me.
I tried to focus on pleasuring him in return, but concentrating was like trying to do calculus while skydiving.
My strokes were clumsy and uncoordinated compared to his practiced movements.
It was strange touching another guy’s dick, but not as weird as I would have expected.
The competitive side of me wanted to return the favor and make him feel as good as he was making me feel, but I was working with significantly more surface area than I was accustomed to.
If he didn’t come soon, I’d have to call in my other hand for backup.
“You’re thinking too much.” Harley’s voice was sultry, dripping with desire. “Just do what feels right.”
Taking his advice, I attempted to mimic his movements, twisting my wrist and varying my pressure.
I made a mental note to start doing those forearm exercises that rock climbers swear by because I’d need to build up my endurance for any encore performances.
But his appreciative groan sent a thrill through me that hit harder than a triple espresso.
“That’s it,” he encouraged, his hips bucking into my grip. “God, you’re a natural. It’s no wonder when you jerk off all the time.”
Pride swelled in my chest at his praise, which was ridiculous. I shouldn’t care about being good at jerking off another guy, but Harley’s approval mattered more than it should. Especially since I felt like a one-man firefighter brigade trying to extinguish a five-alarm blaze with a thimble.
He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against my neck as he continued stroking me. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to touch you like this.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“Am I?” His teeth grazed my earlobe, drawing an embarrassing high-pitched whimper from me. “I’ve jerked off fantasizing about you more times than I can count.”
That revelation should have shut things down, but instead, it sent a pulse of arousal straight to my dick. The image of Harley getting off while thinking of me was unexpectedly hot, especially since I had a vivid mental image of him climaxing while moaning my name from last week.
“Still think you’re straight?” Harley taunted.
I was close enough to the edge of orgasm that plausible deniability had packed its bags and left. “I think I’m fucked.”
He cupped his free hand against the back of my neck and pulled me closer. The show of domination was such a shocking turn-on that my head felt like it was spinning faster than a tilt-a-whirl at a carnival.
“Oh, we’ll get to that, snookums.” He sealed his promise with another scorching kiss that made me whimper with confused need.
My reaction baffled me, but with his lips on mine, the “why” felt as irrelevant as last week’s leftovers. All I knew was that I craved more of him. Desperately.
Oh, well. Being straight was overrated, anyway.
His tongue slid against mine as his hand sped up, pushing me closer to the edge. My hips jerked, seeking more friction. I was embarrassingly close already, my body trembling with the effort to hold back.
“Don’t fight it,” Harley whispered against my lips. “Let go for me.”
His command broke something inside me. With a strangled cry I muffled against his shoulder, I came harder than I ever had in my life, my cum spurting up to my chest as evidence of how much I enjoyed the experience.
My vision blurred at the edges as pleasure crashed into me like a car through a brick wall.
Harley worked me through it, his strokes gentling as I shuddered in the aftermath.
“Holy shit,” I panted, my forehead resting against his shoulder as I tried to remember how to breathe.
Harley chuckled, the sound reverberating through his chest. “Well worth the wait.”
I became acutely aware I was still holding his dick, which remained hard and insistent in my grip. Guilt and determination surged through me. I couldn’t leave him hanging after he gave me an incredible orgasm.
“Your turn,” I said, pulling back enough to meet his gaze. His pupils were blown wide with desire, leaving only a thin ring of blue around the edges.
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” I interrupted, surprising myself with how true it was.
Focusing entirely on him, I stroked him with renewed purpose. My hand, which had always seemed perfectly adequate for my own equipment, suddenly felt like I was trying to wrap my fingers around a water bottle after a lifetime of using a marker.
His breathing hitched as I swiped my thumb over his tip, spreading the precum that had gathered there. The way he responded to my touch was intoxicating, his substantial girth requiring me to adjust my grip in ways I’d never considered for myself.
“Like this?” I asked, mimicking the twist he’d used on me, though it felt like using bonsai techniques on a redwood.
“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, his head falling back. “Just like that.”
Emboldened by his reaction, I pressed my lips to his neck to savor the salt on his skin. His pulse raced beneath my mouth as I sucked lightly, careful not to leave a mark that would raise eyebrows and earn relentless teasing at dinner.
Meanwhile, my wrist was getting the workout of its life. I’d probably wake up tomorrow with forearm muscles I didn’t know existed. If jerking him off counted as strength training, I’d be bench-pressing cars by next week.
“Ryker,” he gasped, his hand gripping my shoulder tightly. “I’m close.”
Something primal and possessive surged through me at his words. I wanted to be the one to make him lose control, even if handling his impressive endowment made me feel like I was working a hefty rolling pin compared to my usual wooden spoon.