Chapter 8
Dax
I can’t say this is what I expected to happen when I approached Miles in art class, but I’m certainly not complaining.
I haven’t hooked up with anyone in a while, though I’m not sure why.
Again, maybe it goes back to everything and everyone feeling boring lately, like I’ve done it or done them all before, and something about Miles is…
exciting again. All I know is I love the way his hard, fat cock feels against my palm, the way his hand had felt against my throat, and the taste of his talented tongue when our mouths collided.
“What are you waiting for? Get on your knees, then,” Miles orders, making my cock twitch in excitement. Sucking dick is one of my favorite things, and I’m very good at it.
I grin, his face twisting up slightly, the way it does sometimes when something I do confuses him. I think he likes my smile and doesn’t want to admit it, doesn’t want to acknowledge what it does to him.
“I’m going…” I press my lips to his mouth.
“Just…” I kiss his neck. “Be…” I kneel on the floor, then shove up his T-shirt.
“Patient.” Ignoring my throbbing dick, I make quick work of his jeans, getting them open and tugging them and his boxer trunks down.
Miles is packing—a big, juicy cock, swollen and red, thick, fat veins pulsing beneath his skin.
Precum already beads at the tip, his balls heavy and full.
I cup them, savor the weight of them in my palm.
“I’m waiting for your mouth. I don’t have all day.”
“God, you’re an asshole.”
“Fuck—” he starts, his words cutting off when I suck him to the back of my throat. His girth stretches my lips deliciously, his dick hot on my tongue. I pull off, flatten my tongue against the base of his shaft and run it all the way up to the tip, before sucking him inside again.
“Looks like I did find something your mouth is good for,” he tells me, and maybe that should piss me off, but it doesn’t. It makes my dick swell even more, makes it pulse with need, my mouth working up and down his shaft, swallowing around him when he hits the back of my throat.
Miles’s hands fist in my hair, a stinging sensation coming from my scalp, but all it does is turn me on more, make me work harder for the load he has built up in his pretty balls.
I fucking love making a guy nut, making him lose control for me, and I have a feeling making Miles cut loose like that, seeing him dive headfirst into an orgasm, will be even better than with anyone else.
A guy’s gotta have a goal, right? And it looks like mine is making Miles bust.
I pull off, lower my face to his balls, breathe in the musky, heady scent of him.
God, it’s intoxicating. I feel like I could get drunk off every hungry sound he makes, off the way he pulls my hair harder when I lap at his tight sac, at the way his thigh muscles are already tightening, his breathing coming out in sharp pants.
“Get back on my dick. I prefer it when your mouth is full.”
“Don’t go easy on me. I know you can do better.”
His pupils flare, an unreadable expression on his face, and this time, when I suck him into my mouth again, Miles doesn’t let me run the show. He fucks into me, fisting my hair, head tilted up so I’m looking at him as he gives me what I asked for.
There’s nothing like it. I get fucking high off the pleasure, off making him feel good, which makes me feel good in return.
Sucking dick is always like some kind of competition for me, this strategic game where if I use my mouth right, move my tongue the way I should, open up my throat, gag on it in a way that makes my heart race and endorphins rush through my body, then I win the prize, and God, I fucking love the prize.
Love a big mouthful of cum…Miles’s cum. What will he taste like? I can’t wait to find out.
“You do fucking love it, don’t you?” he grits out. “I can see it on your face. You’re dying for it. You love being on your knees for me, eyes glassy for me. You want my load?”
I nod, too full of cock to speak. I’m dying right now. I don’t know which I want more—to come or empty his balls.
“God, what is it about you?” he says—more to himself than to me, I think—hips thrusting, hand still fisting, holding my head still, his focus all on me and what he’s doing.
I can’t stop myself from opening my jeans, shoving them down and jacking myself off.
I’m leaking, and the precum helps slick the way, but not nearly enough.
Saliva runs down my chin, so I use that, wipe it onto my hand and stroke while I let him fuck my mouth.
His movements get jerkier, his cock flexing in my mouth, and I know I’m about to get what I came for.
“Fuck, you want it? I’m gonna feed you my load unless you pull off.”
Pull off? What the hell is the point of a blowjob if I do that?
I bob my head on him, feel my lower back begin to tingle, like it’s the end of a wick and any moment now the flame will shoot up my spine.
“Fuck, here it comes,” he says, and makes a hungry, feral sound.
His cock jerks in my mouth, hot cum on my tongue.
He grabs the back of my head, pushing it down on him even more, fucks himself down my throat, keeps filling me, spurt after salty spurt, hitting my taste buds and making me feel like I’m fucking flying.
He keeps going, his movement slowing as he finishes.
“Hold it open,” Miles tells me, and I pull off him, head tilted up, mouth open.
He strokes himself, squeezes at the tip so the last few drops of cum land on my tongue. I smile at him as he feeds it to me, don’t let my gaze flick away even for a second while I swallow.
“Told you I’m good.” I smirk at him, and before I realize what’s happening, Miles pulls me to my feet, pushes me against the wall, one hand on my throat again, as he spits in his hand, wraps it around my cock, jerking me off and slamming his mouth on mine.
I’ve always been into kissing, but there’s something about the way he does it that’s even more addicting.
Miles is shit at communicating, but he seems to say more with his kissing than he does speaking— I hate you.
I want you. Get away. I hate myself. At least, that’s what his kiss tastes like to me.
His strokes speed up, that fire now shooting up my spine and exploding in colors in my eyes.
His hold on my throat tightens. He’s not restricting my breath.
Just holding me, but even the slight pressure is enough to push me over the edge, my balls high and tight as I shoot all over him, marking him in a way I hadn’t planned on doing but like.
“Fuck,” he says, pressing his forehead against the stall.
“I know. I’m good.”
“Does it make you feel good to keep telling me that?” he asks without looking at me, and I can’t help but laugh.
“I mean, if you’re not going to give me compliments, I’ll have to give them to myself.”
Is it me, or are the corners of his mouth turned up slightly? If they are, he’s definitely fighting it.
“You made a mess.” He looks down at the cum on his shirt.
“That was closer to a compliment,” I tease, and he bites back another smirk.
“You’re annoying.”
Miles gets some toilet paper, cleans himself up, and then we get dressed and head out of the stall.
“Are you going to run away again?”
“Only if you keep asking dumb questions.”
Huh. I didn’t expect that. I thought for sure he’d turn into Angry-Ass Miles and storm off, but apparently, that’s not going to happen.
“Okay…then you can walk me toward the health sciences building.”
He cocks a brow as if to say he didn’t sign up for that, his lips in a tight, cute scowl that’s less I fucking hate you than normal and more I want to fucking hate you but you’re intriguing . I can work with that.
I’m surprised when Miles holds the bathroom door open for me to walk out first. I almost make a joke about him deciding to push me out and lock himself in the bathroom, but I don’t want to give him any ideas.
If anything, our rushed hookup and now him walking me to class have made me even more curious about him.
What makes this guy tick? What caused that self-loathing he gave me a glimpse of after the party the other night?
“Thanks for getting the door. See? I told the guys you weren’t so bad.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” he asks, and I wince, wishing I hadn’t said anything.
“Nothing. They were just giving me shit about sticking up for you.”
“I don’t need you to stick up for me.”
I feel like I ruined whatever common ground we found, so I’m racking my brain to make it better. “I know. Anyone would be a fool not to see how independent you are.”
I’m not sure if my words help, but they don’t make it worse either. We’re quiet for a moment, but it’s Miles who breaks it.
“So…” The word hangs in the air for a long moment, like he’s trying to think of something to ask me or trying to talk himself out of asking me. “You’re going into something to do with medicine?”
“Yeah, I want to be a nurse.”
“Why?” He frowns as if it’s a strange field to get into. “You want? Or your family wants?”
I’ve never had someone ask me that before, and it makes me wonder why he is.
Does his family try to push him toward something he doesn’t want to do?
“Me. I like helping people. I want to be there when they get better, and I don’t have the patience to be a doctor.
Plus, nurses are the lifeline of the medical field anyway. ”
His brows draw together as if he’s unsure what to think. “You’re passionate about that, huh?”
“I am. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do. My mom wanted to be a nurse too. It didn’t work out for her, though.”
“Why not?”
“She dropped out of school to marry my dad. I’m not sure why she couldn’t get her degree and marry him, but that’s what they decided.
I think he just wanted a stay-at-home wife, then a stay-at-home mom.
She was more of a trophy to him than anything.
” My hands fist, but I shake them out, hoping he doesn’t notice.
I’m a fairly open person with most things, but no one has asked me about my mom before, so I’ve never shared that she walked away from her dreams for my father.
“Was?” He looks at this huge, blooming Eastern Redbud tree, which happens to be one of my favorites on campus. I love the heart-shaped leaves.
“Yeah…she died. Car accident.”
When I look down, I notice his hands tightening and loosening. Did I say something wrong?
“Your dad?” he asks. It hasn’t escaped my attention that he’s only asking questions about me and not telling me anything about himself, but I let it slide for now.
“Oh, he’s a dick, if you couldn’t tell by the way he talked my mom into dropping out of school. She hadn’t come from much. He came from money. He held that over her a lot. And he hates me.”
He scoffs. “No one hates you.”
I nudge his arm. “Aww. Are you saying you like me?”
“Fuck no.” Miles pulls his arm away.
But I think he does. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be walking with me right now. He wouldn’t have stuck up for me at the party or helped me home that night.
We stop at the Health Sciences building, and I suddenly wish I didn’t have to go to class, that I could pick Miles’s brain or at least let him pick mine some more.
“You’re here,” he says.
“Good observation. I hope no one gets close enough to me to smell my cum breath,” I tease.
He pulls breath mints from his pocket, and I hold out my hand, Miles shaking one into my palm. I want to uncover every secret he has, to pull back every layer of Miles and figure out what’s beneath.
“You’ll be late,” he tells me. “If you want to blow me again, I’m game.”
I laugh. “Only if you blow me first.” I wink, then go into the building.