Chapter 4
Chapter Four
PJ
Oh, this is fucking delicious. One second, Fallon’s giving me baby deer energy, the next he’s attacking my mouth.
I’m not complaining. He’d rather grind on me than face whatever demons lurk behind him? It’s what I’m here for.
It’s a hot fucking kiss. His lips are smooth and firm.
His body yields against mine. Instinct has me tightening my arm to pull him closer and kissing deeper.
I don’t hate the press of his solid body.
The way he moves against me, frantic and a little desperate?
Didn’t expect it, but it’s getting me hard.
It’s good enough not to care that he’s using me right now. After all, I can use him right back.
“That’s good.” I tease my tongue against his parted lips to draw him out. “Give me more, baby.”
Fallon’s like a high-end car. Responsive. Built for smooth handling. Built to obey. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, charging forth with a sweet and bitter hint of beer.
I lean into the flurry of sensation in my stomach. It’s new and I want to learn more. My hands are grasping and greedy, coming up to the back of his neck and pulling him forward, seeking friction for my hardening cock.
Oh hell. His tongue tangles with mine, his hands clutching at my ass like he needs an anchor.
Someone bumps us from behind. Our teeth clash.
“Sorry,” he breathes. “I didn’t think this through.”
“Fuck sorry,” I tell him. Why does this guy apologize so much? I never apologize.
Sounds of sizzling, laughing, and orders being called out filter around us as I lead us both to a quieter spot.
We’re at the end of the last row of food trucks, right next to a bank building that’s closed for the night.
Aside from the automatic teller around the corner, the place is free of activity.
The alley beside it is shrouded in darkness.
“I have an idea. Let’s go.”
He doesn’t resist, so I plow ahead.
I push him past the It’s All Waffles truck, past their gas-scented generator, and over to the side of the building, where I close the distance by giving Fallon a quick shove. He hits the stone wall behind him with a quiet oof.
He pushes away with a startled-sounding breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“You apologize too fucking much. You want me to stop?” Much as I’d like to get some of that sweet friction on my dick again, he’s still a customer. And the customer is always right, even when I hate him a little for even being here.
He’d better say no. My lips are buzzing like I’ve been eating hot sauce. I want more.
So much more.
Fallon’s breath is rough and choppy. One hand comes up, rubbing his lower lip, a bewildered look on his face. Maybe he’s buzzing too. “I liked it,” he whispers.
I take that as my permission to dive in again. “Good. You feel so fucking good,” I murmur against his mouth.
There’s a note of wonder in my voice. I wonder if he can tell.
I’ve kissed men before. A quick peck on the lips or the cheek. Once, I got paid to be a pretend boyfriend at a wedding, and the job required getting touchy-feely. A little making out, which was fine.
Fine. But not remarkable. I’ve done plenty of faking it for the sake of a paycheck. I’m not faking now.
How the fuck did I end up here? Hard and resentful, turned on and pissed off, I’m grinding my hard dick against Fallon’s expensive slacks like it’ll right all the wrongs in my world. My grip is too rough. I’m pushing him too hard. I love it and hate it, and I can’t seem to stop.
Surprisingly enough, he seems willing to let me.
More than willing. His eyes are wide and a little glassy, his lips parted. I suspect he’d agree to let me do an awful lot right now. The thought only makes me harder.
My lips slide along his jaw. “Your stubble feels good. Grind against me. I like feeling how hard you are.”
I’m loving how pliant and turned on he is. And knowing I’ve made him this way?
Chef’s fucking kiss.
He’s pushing his hips into me, grinding like I told him to. His hands grasp the lapels of my suit jacket. His touch feels needy, and I’m here for it. I want to kiss him until I forget how to breathe. Until I fucking drown in him.
Obsessive? Maybe. Who cares when he’s so greedy for me. It’s goddamn intoxicating.
I press against him harder, bracing one hand on the cool stone wall while I slide the other to palm his erection. “Didn’t expect you to turn me on like this, Fallon. Is this doing it for you too? You like being manhandled?”
His desperate gasp is fucking musical.
“That a yes, baby? Does my shoving you against this wall, where anyone could come by and see me stroking your cock through your designer slacks, get you hot? Bet you’d let me fuck you right here, you little slut.”
I’m rewarded with a subtle nod and a whine in the back of his throat.
Knew it. Fucking delicious.
Maybe I don’t drink or do drugs, but this? The taste of his lips and the velvet of his tongue and the barely there prickle of stubble against my face? The way he’s so goddamn needy against me? I want to mainline this shit.
I want to drag every whine and moan that’s coming out of him straight down into my bloodstream. I’m on fire, and if I’m burning, then so should he be.
“Tell me what you want me to do,” he moans.
Oh, this is too damn good.
“Tell me what feels good,” I counter.
He opens his mouth, but all that comes out is a quiet whine.
I thrust my fingers into his hair, tugging, forcing his head back. “You like it when I do that?”
“Fuck yes. Push me around. I don’t mind it rough.”
Perfect. I do it again, greedy for the way he moans when I give him that little bit of pain.
The way he bares his throat to me is impossible to resist. I scrape my teeth over his jaw and down one of the most vulnerable parts of him, pinching his skin between my teeth. Each gasp and swallow is like music.
“Your stubble feels good against my lips, Fallon. Your skin is so hot. I’ve never wanted to sink my teeth into a person’s throat so much in my life.”
“Oh God. This is completely crazy.”
But he doesn’t tell me to stop, so I don’t.
My brain is spinning, the desire to slide my fingers through his thick waves again and again warring with the prickle in my palms that I suspect can only be soothed by touching him everywhere.
It’s like there’s this whole new country I’ve never been to, and I want to get out there and explore everything.
All of him. All at once.
It takes a few rough pulls to get his shirt untucked.
I let my hands roam over his lightly furred stomach and his broad pecs.
His hips jerk against mine when I roll his nipples between my fingertips.
I slide my hands to his back so I can feel the curve of his spine under my fingers, the tapering at his waist.
His ass. Holy shit, his ass. It’s so fucking firm under the palms of my hands, a sensory experience that’s damn satisfying. Kneading the heated flesh is better than that awesome thinking putty Evans got me one year for Christmas. I could do this all. Fucking. Night.
“Oh God,” he whispers—less like a prayer and more like begging. “Please.”
“Whatever you want, baby. Keep talking to me. You like me the way I’m squeezing your ass, using it like it’s a sensory toy? You like me dry humping you out here in public, where anyone at all could walk by and see?”
Whether it’s Fallon widening his stance or my dick’s need to get close to him, a world opens up when my thigh slides between his.
His eyes fall shut on a moan so indecent I want to bottle it up and save it so nobody gets to hear it but me.
He’s thrusting faster against me, his erection riding what would be the crease between my leg and my body if we were both naked.
Why the fuck aren’t we naked?
Laughter nearby turns my head for a second. Right. That’s why.
“Should we…should we stop?” He’s breathy in my ear, sounding dazed.
Maybe we should, but… “You want me to stop, baby?”
I pull back enough to see his face, his nose and jaw sharp in the shadowy mouth of this alley. His golden skin glows in a sliver of moonlight. His eyelids drop to half-mast. His hips keep rocking, keep grinding against me. His eyes blaze with need.
Finally, he shakes his head no.
“Good. Me neither.” I press in, working my hard dick against his. “It’s exciting, right? Knowing we could get caught any second? How would you feel if we got caught right now, huh? If someone stumbled on us, seeing you working yourself against me like you’re in fucking heat.”
Brennan will fuck me up if I’m arrested for public indecency. Ask me how much I care.
I’m distracted by the way Fallon shivers when I run my nose along his throat.
And his scent. Shit, I knew this guy was rich as fuck from the suit alone, but he smells like it too.
His skin is a salty expanse of some subtle mix of wood and smoke and, I don’t know, essence of Benjamins or something.
I want to get lost in his scent and stay that way.
If he lets me lick it off him, I might not even hold his being a rich fuck against him.
“You’re doing the strangest things to me,” I confess as I press my hip against his hard dick. His fingers dig into my arm, into my ass. His movements get jerky and insistent. I’m high as a kite on making this guy crazy.
“You’re getting close, aren’t you?” I murmur against his throat. “I can feel your heart beating. Can you feel mine?” It’s an angry drumbeat right now. The kind you hear in the movies before someone’s head gets chopped off.
“God, yes, it’s so… Oh God. Oh fuck.”
I grip his hips, locking us together. “Keep going,” I demand.
“I can’t believe how good this feels.” He pants against my ear. “I… We-we should stop. We should—I can’t. I can’t fucking stop. It feels so fucking good.”
What feels so fucking good is making him so out of his fucking mind. I’ve done this to him. I’m the one who’s reduced him to a stuttering ball of sensation.