6 Eric #2
My hands find their way to his lower back, fisting his shirt and tugging him closer.
His smell is heightened by his sweat, and I’m surrounded by the masculine, woody scent.
For the second time in my life, I experience the roughness of his stubble grazing my cheek, the strength of his grip, and the sheer magnitude of his presence confirming without a doubt that this is a man in my arms.
Not just a man.
Dmitri.
Everything about it screams right, and that pisses me off even more.
I suck on his bottom lip and bite down, sinking my teeth into him until he calls out and pushes away.
He only gets a few inches between us because of my grip on him, and I watch in the dim lighting as he lifts his hand to his mouth and wipes.
His tongue darts over his swollen lip as he glances at the smear of blood on his fingers, and then his eyes slam back into mine.
Anger, coupled with undeniable lust, blazes inside them.
Before he can make another move, I spin us both around and throw him backwards.
His grunt is stunned as his body hits the wall with a thud.
One of my hands weaves through his sweaty hair and yanks him back to my mouth.
Coppery blood joins the taste of his lips as he moans, pushing his tongue into my mouth while giving mine a gentle suck.
The hand that clutches his shirt tugs him closer, and I groan at the sensation of him hard against me.
Both his hands land on my ass, and he uses them to guide me until we’re lined up, cocks sliding against each other through the denim of our jeans.
Pleasure like I’ve never known jettisons through my body, and I double down.
Another loud, desperate sound leaves me as I throw my weight into him, pinning him in place.
“Damn it, Eric,” he moans, tearing his mouth from mine. “Wait.”
“No,” I growl, slipping my hand under his shirt to the overheated skin of his back. He releases a noise that makes my hair stand up on end—a helpless whimper that escapes his lips as he thrusts his hips forward, completely lost in the moment.
“Goddamnit, Eric, wait… talk to me,” he manages to get out, but I just shake my head and tighten my grip in his hair. I pull until I know it burns, urging his lips back to mine. Another desperate groan passes between our mouths, then his fingers clamp onto my chin and force my lips off his.
“That fucking hurt,” he growls, his fingertips digging in until his nails push into my flesh.
I yank on his hair again as his lip rips up in a snarl. “Good,” I spit back at him, and then it’s my turn to shout as his fingernails scrape down the sides of my chin, leaving angry marks in their wake. He uses his grip to pull me to him, kissing me with bruising pressure.
Lost in the intensity of our lips and tongues moving together, I fall into him again, gasping and pulling away when he gives a stinging nip to my upper lip.
He rolls us until I’m pinned, and his hand around my jaw pushes my head up and back.
His mouth leaves a trail of hot breath up the column of my neck as I fumble in the darkness, blindly searching for the friction of his body against mine.
“Eric, stop,” he pleads.
“What, you don’t want me now?” Malice drips from my every word, even as I pant and writhe beneath his touch, desperate for more.
“I’ve always wanted you,” he whispers.
“No,” I snarl, twisting my body to break free from his hold and shoving him back a few steps. I charge forward, my adrenaline pumping as I push him with all my strength. He stumbles into the wall behind him. “You don’t get to do that.”
I catch him by the waistband of his jeans, fingers curling around the coarse denim and fingertips grazing the skin of his groin.
He barks out a low curse as I grab the nape of his neck and force his mouth back to mine. With a flick of my fingers, I unbutton his pants, and my name rolls off his tongue once more, but he’s no longer arguing.
He’s begging.
My fingers move on instinct, and a loud zip cuts through the room as I undo his fly. My hand slips into the front of his jeans, palm flat against his hard length behind his underwear. He’s huge. My whole body is on fire at the feel of him, solid as granite and desperate, all because of me.
At this moment, it doesn’t matter that I’ve never done this before.
I’m not worried about doing something wrong or making a fool of myself.
The hunger I have for him far surpasses any inadequacy in my experience.
Just having his cock against my hand has me so worked up that I could come from this alone.
My palm slides up his length, and he hisses at the pressure as I rub him over his boxer briefs. I stroke down and then up again, and another whimper escapes him. I can’t tear my eyes away from his face, watching his every reaction.
My thumb wiggles through the front opening, both of us groaning when I find the velvet skin underneath.
I glide up to his tip and swipe through the wetness gathered there.
I give him a few slow, intentional strokes.
He rocks into my grip, head thrown back against the wall in complete surrender.
A few more pumps and he tenses, pulsing against my fingers.
Another swipe over his crown has pre-cum soaking my thumb, and I squeeze harder for a few more drawn-out strokes. His hips tense and drive forward, and his mouth drops open in a gasp. “Wait, Eric, fuck… fuck…”
Over and over, I stroke him in a steady rhythm. His hand shoots out to grab my wrist in a futile attempt to stop me, but I’m half feral as I seize it and pin it against the wall. His head whips back and forth as he thrusts into my hand with a series of gasping breaths.
He’s dancing on the edge, completely at my mercy.
His entire body shudders on the next stroke. “Oh shit,” he grunts as I slide to the tip again, then his cock jerks against my palm as his whole world splinters.
He’s loud as he comes, groaning and moaning as I continue stroking him. Wet, warm heat from his release spreads across the fabric of his underwear as he falls apart, still thrusting against my hand.
Reality crashes around me when his eyes meet mine, full of lust and unfiltered affection.
I’m so hard it’s painful, and it probably wouldn’t take more than a few touches for me to fly over the edge with him. But memories flood me and force me into the past. The pain tightens its barbs in my heart, and I let go of him.
Let go. The thought is a cold splash of water, instantly sobering me.
I have to let go.
Stepping back, a tornado of emotions wreaks havoc in my mind as I behold the breathtaking disaster in front of me. Cheeks flushed and eyes wild, pants undone, covered in his own cum because of me.
He reaches for me, but I only retreat further, and the anguished confusion in his eyes leaves me shattered.
It breaks me, and I fucking hate it.
“Eric?” he mutters, reaching for me again.
“Now you get to know how it feels,” I say, voice flat and completely devoid of the emotion that churns in my gut. Before he can see through my mask, before he can give chase, I do what I do best.
I turn and I run.