15. Preston #3
I thought I’d never feel more stimulated than in the locker room, but I was dead wrong.
Because this? This is setting my world on fire.
His fingers scrape a sensitive spot in my ass, and I have no goddamn clue what the fuck comes over me, because all of a sudden, I’m spurting down his throat in thick waves.
The orgasm takes me by surprise, I don’t even realize I’m coming until my fingers are shaking in Marcus’s hair, unintelligible moans spilling out at the same time.
His Adam’s apple works up and down as he swallows the cum. His throat constricts around my crown with the motion, and it makes me come harder.
Even though he tries to swallow everything, there’s just too much cum, and it trickles out the corner of his mouth and down his chin.
The view somehow glitches my brain.
I’ve marked him.
Again.
That’s my cum in his mouth.
His fingers slip out of my ass, and my heart thuds as realization crashes into me. I just let someone finger my ass.
Not just any someone.
A man.
Fucking Marcus.
Before I can let the violent thoughts take root, he stands up and grabs my jaw, forcing my lips open.
My eyes widen when he spits cum in my mouth. He’s spitting my cum in my mouth.
It should be disgusting. Disturbing, even. But then the salty taste explodes on my tongue, and he thrusts his own tongue inside and twirls it with mine. A strange thud happens in my chest, and I remain motionless as he makes me swallow the cum.
He pushes his tongue far inside until he’s slurping on mine.
Until there’s nothing left.
But even then, his tongue doesn’t stop warring with mine, lips to lips, teeth clashing. We’re so intertwined, I don’t know where he ends and I begin.
This fucking—
I bite down on his lip until a metallic taste fills my mouth, then push him away and punch him in the face.
That forces him out of my personal space, and I punch him again, this time in the chest. “I told you not to kiss me, asshole!”
He puts both hands in the air in mock surrender. “I was only letting you taste your cum, baby.”
“That was not what you were doing.”
“Yes, it was. Snowballing is the right term, if you want to look it up.”
“You were obviously kissing me.”
“If you say so.”
“You fucking bitch!” I breathe harshly, pulling my boxers and jeans up, tucking myself in with supersonic speed. “I clearly said no kissing.”
“Coming down my throat and against my cock is not too gay for you, but kissing is?”
“I told you it’s a fucking physical reaction. You being a man doesn’t mean shit.”
“Then me kissing you should also—” He makes air quotes. “—not mean shit. Think of me as a girl if it makes you feel better.”
“You’re not a fucking girl!”
“You noticed?” His smirk widens, but it drips with a threat. “Good, because I lied. You can’t think of me as a girl. I’m a man just like you, and you still came for me.”
“You—” I take a deep breath. “Listen, asshole. Kiss me again and it’ll be the last time you kiss anything.”
“I don’t mind.”
“You little prick, do you have no concern for your life?”
“For a kiss from you, I don’t seem to, no.”
My lips part, my fingers pausing on the top button of my jeans.
Why?
Just why is he…this unwaveringly into me? Surely, he has other guys he can annoy. Granted, they can’t be as perfect as me, but he has other options.
So why me?
I’m still thinking about that as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out two candies.
And what’s up with that?
I frown. “Do you always have mango candy with you?”
“Yeah. For you.” He places them in my palm.
My eyes narrow on the wrappers, and I shove them back into his hand. “Are you sure they weren’t for Dallas?”
“Dallas?”
“Kane’s toy that you paraded around on your arm tonight.”
“Dahlia?”
“Yeah, Denver.”
His swollen lips curl in this boyish smile that somehow makes my breathing heavier. “Her name is Dahlia.”
“That’s what I said. Detroit.”
He bursts out laughing, toppling over with the motion, and I pause, because what the fuck? Since when does this prick laugh this…freely? I was so sure he could only be a mocking, antagonizing complication of epic proportions.
“Are you calling Dahlia the wrong names on purpose?”
“No. I know her name is Dakota.”
“Fucking adorable.” He chuckles again, pushing the candies back into my hand. “Don’t be jealous of Dahlia.”
“I’m not jealous.” And why the fuck does he keep saying her name?
“You don’t have to be. You’re the only one I want, baby.”
I purse my lips because, what do I even say to that nonsense? This entire conversation is making me uncomfortably hot. Who the fuck turned on the heat out here?
Marcus steps back. “Keep in touch, or I’ll bring another Dahlia to your town every night until you do.”
My head tilts to the side, my tone turning cold. “What did I say about threatening me?”
“It’s not a threat if neither option hurts you. Unless a girl on my arm does hurt you?”
“I will fuck you up—”
“Stop being a menace for a second. You were much more obedient when my body talked to yours.”
“Marcus—”
He drops a kiss on my forehead, and I go still as he whispers, “See you before the next game, baby.”