Chapter 24 #2
My begging unleashes something dark inside him. He fists my hair in his hand. His other palms my ass and digs his fingers into my ass cheek. He yanks on my hair so hard tears prickle my eyes. His tongue tangles with mine. I moan at how sweet he tastes.
“More,” I beg.
He slants my head and deepens the kiss. I see stars. See them explode when he moves his hand from my ass cheek and cups my sex through my pants. The explosion of need is instantaneous.
“Oh God, yes,” I rasp.
The kissing reaches a fervor pitch. I release my hold on his shirt and clamp my hands on his triceps. The muscles flex beneath my touch. I dig my nails into his flesh, and he groans in my mouth.
“Move on me, Ever.” He lowers me until the outline of his erection beneath his pants brushes over my sex.
His cock is thick and long. A moan slips from me. I’ve dreamed of taking Bobby’s thickness and length in my mouth and working him over so well that he loses all control and comes in my mouth. I’d swallow every drop before I fall to my hands and knees and beg him to take me from behind.
Holding on to his shoulders, I grind on the outline of his erection. Up, down. Up, down. Feeling his cock is one thing. Seeing it would be something else, giving me an image of Bobby’s thickness as I touch myself until I writhe and moan my release on my fingers.
Forgetting for a moment Bobby’s possible involvement in Carlos’s murder, pushing down the fear that Ty and my father will hurt him, and ignoring the warning bells in my head that what I’m doing is too forward and indecent, I release his shoulder, grab hold of his waistband, and edge it back.
The head of his cock pokes up from under his boxers. I wet my finger with my mouth and slide my fingertip over the slit of the bulbous head. I’ve never done this with another man, nor have I been this forward, even with Carlos.
But with Bobby? He’s my safe space. I can say anything, and he wouldn’t judge me. He’d listen and not fill in the silence. I can do anything, and he would happily go along with me, so long as what we’re doing is safe.
I want to please him.
Pleasing him makes me feel so good.
I want us to feel good.
I wet my fingers and swirl my fingertips on the head of his cock. So velvety soft. He’s circumcised, and I trace the puckered ring around the head with my fingertips over and over. This slow worshipping of a part of him brings us both pleasure.
His cock jerks with each caress from my fingertips. I stick my hand under his waistband and fist his cock. Bobby throws back his head. His face is serene one moment, then tight and twisted, both expressions of pleasure. I stare. He is so beautiful it hurts to look at him.
“Bobby.” My voice is soft and filled with longing. I want to taste him. Taste his saltiness. Smell his musky scent. Sweat. Male. Virile.
He looks at me. I’m an open book, like he says. He doesn’t need to look any further than my face to understand what I need from him. Not a want, but a need, like air for my lungs.
He claims my mouth in an urgent kiss. I’m drowning, gasping for air, and Bobby’s kiss is my next breath, my lifeline.
He kisses me until my lungs are ready to explode.
I’m panting. My hair is fisted in his hand.
My panties are soaked, and my nipples are little points pressing against my T-shirt. They ache to be touched and tasted.
Bobby breaks off the kiss, and it leaves this void in my heart. It’s like losing Carlos all over again, and I can’t stand the emptiness.
I press my mouth to his and slide the tip of my tongue along the seams of his mouth. Open, please. Fill the emptiness inside me. Bobby opens to me, and I whimper as I sweep my tongue inside his warmth and sweetness.
I missed this. Missed his touches and his kisses. Bobby comes to me in my dreams. The memories of his hands on my body and his mouth on mine haunt my nights, and I can’t sleep. I have to touch myself and come. It’s the only way I get relief and get him out of my mind.
I kiss him. He kisses me back. We’re out of breath.
Panting. I touch the head of his cock again with my saliva-soaked finger, and he drops his forehead on mine and groans.
I grind on his erection as he kneads my ass cheeks.
We go on and on with our fingers, hands, and mouths, unable to get enough of one another.
After what seems like hours of making out, we break apart. He’s breathing hard. I’m lightheaded.
“I’m still unhappy you didn’t tell me who you were the moment I gave you my name.” I run my finger over the jagged line across his right eyebrow. He did tell me to call him on his jerk behavior, and he was a jerk for leading me on.
He stops the caress and brings my finger to his lips.
“Be disappointed in my shitty behavior. I deserve it.” He drops a kiss on my fingertip. “I was a selfish prick. I wanted you, and telling you who I was would’ve had you giving me the middle finger.”
He’s wrong. “You’re not selfish or a jerk. You looked out for me and treated me better than any of the college guys I’ve come across.”
He picks up my hand and drops a kiss dead center on my palm.
I stare, losing my train of thought. Bobby and his tender kisses .
. . “You’re right. I’d flip the middle finger.
Not at you but to this unspoken rule that I can’t talk to my best friend’s older brother or my older brother’s rival from their high school days. ”
He tucks pieces of hair behind my ear. When he speaks, his voice is soft, tinged with a different emotion. “We did more than talk, sweetness.”
Bobby surprising me at the end of my shift.
My arms wrapped around his chest as we watched the sunset.
His face pressed to my sex as I lie on the leather seat of his truck with my palms flat on the door.
What he can do with his tongue and warm mouth.
And his thick fingers pumping in and out of my core . . .
“We did, didn’t we?” Heat blooms across my face and chest. My lips lift at the corners.
“You okay with that? No regrets?”
“None, Bobby.”
“Fuck, sweetness, I love it when you say my name.”
I stare into sea-glass eyes that shine with happiness. What did Bobby say about happiness when I said my plushies make me happy?
He’s onto me.
Bobby cups my face. “Happiness is important, and we should get it when and where we can. Are you happy, Ever?”
I am, and that tells me I’m in deep shit.