Chapter Two #2
“Who did you expect?”
He doesn’t answer, his head turning toward the guy that approached him earlier for a split second, and I can’t shake the feeling that it’s very telling. I just don’t know what it says yet.
I step forward so that I’m just an inch away from Blake. He flinches.
What am I doing? I’m not sure. It’s not like I’m ever getting anything from him—not that I’m dying to, anyway—but there’s this strong urge within me to fuck with him, one way or another.
I reach out and put my hand on his hip, my touch barely there.
Blake’s body tenses and he looks over his shoulder but says nothing. He looks me in the eye for a few seconds before turning his attention back to the action.
Interesting.
I flatten my palm on his hip and slide it down to the middle of his thigh before moving it back up to the hem of his shirt, where I stop and push one finger under the fabric, caressing his skin right above his waistband.
He lets out a shaky exhale but doesn’t look at me this time. “What are you doing?”
Fuck if I know. I shrug, even though he can’t see it. “Having fun. What are you doing?”
It takes him a while before he answers. “Same.”
My brows furrow. So this is strange. I was the one supposed to fuck with his mind, not the other way around.
I slide my hand to the front of his pants before lowering it as slowly as I can.
Blake’s breaths deepen, but other than that, he doesn’t move, so I press my palm to his cock, over the fabric of his pants, and guide it along his surprisingly long shaft.
Blake’s head drops back, the tips of his hair falling on my face. His eyes are open wide and a small tremor runs through his frame, but still, he’s quiet.
I bring my mouth to his ear. “Why are you here, Blake?”
He answers with a strong exhale.
My brain melts. I give him one more over-the-clothes stroke before I move to take my hand off him.
That’s when his head turns, and he looks at me. “Don’t.”
Well, well, well. Look at that.
Maybe I should walk away now, leave him hanging and make him pay for all the times he’s been a jerk, but I don't. The air thickens around us, and I'm acutely aware of every sound and every vibration in the crowded space.
Slowly, to not startle him, I move my fingers up to the button of his slacks and pop it open. He shudders when I pull down his zipper. And as soon as his pants are open, he darts his eyes around the crowd as if making sure no one is watching.
I take great care as I slide my hand inside his boxer briefs, sneakily making sure his cock is not visible to anyone.
His underwear is wet, where the plump head of his cock pushes against the fabric. And as soon as I'm in, I rub my fingers along his shaft and give him a teasing squeeze.
His eyes fall closed, and he rests his head on my shoulder, bending slightly, making him seem shorter. His cock pulses in my palm, a sizable vein throbbing on the underside. I give him a few shallow strokes before moving my hand to the head of his dick, smearing the pre-cum pooling around his slit.
Blake sighs and his body shudders. I wrap my other hand around his chest, making sure he stays vertical. His hair tingles my neck and I inhale the smell of his shampoo. It’s intoxicating, and I catch myself getting lost in it. I quickly jerk my head back.
My eyes land on the lanky guy who had approached him before. He's gawking at Blake lustfully, longingly.
And I can't blame him. As much as I hate to admit it, Blake is hot on a regular day, and even though I can't fully see his face now, I imagine he looks ten times hotter coming undone in my arms.
The man's eyes meet mine and I squint, a smirk stretching my lips.
That's right. He's with me and all you can do is watch.
I jerk him fast now, my strokes still light and shallow, constricted by the tightness of his underwear, waistband limiting the movements of my wrist.
But that doesn't stop Blake from getting lost in my touch.
A weird wave of satisfaction courses through me as I drop my hand to fondle his balls, angling my hand the best I can.
His sack is firm and heavy in my palm, balls drawn close to his body—full and ready for release.
When I move to stroke his cock again, sliding my hand along his long thick length, Blake lets out a quiet curse I almost miss.
I stretch my neck to look at his face. His mouth hangs open, and he's breathing heavily. He no longer pays attention to the two guys getting it on the sofa in front of us.
Watch my ass.
“Open your eyes, Blake,” I say in his ear.
He does so reluctantly. And even though his gaze now lingers somewhere around the scene, I'm not sure he sees a thing.
Intensifying my efforts on his cock, I alternate between squeezing and pulling.
His breaths come out raspy, and he bucks his hips back and starts rocking them, grinding his ass against my aching cock.
Jesus. I'm not even sure he realizes what he's doing.
My dick throbs and I move my hips back, but he follows, and his ass presses against my cock again.
Blake fucking Jacobs. I wonder if he finally accepts it.
His whole body moves against mine now. I decide he's no longer in danger of collapsing, so I move my other hand to thread my fingers in his hair, pulling his head back and forcing him to open his eyes that have fallen closed again.
“Why are you here, Blake?” I repeat, my voice thick.
He answers with a groan, just like I thought he would.
“Why are you here?”
He alternates between bucking into my fist on his cock and grinding his ass against my groin. “I don't know. I really don't fucking know.”
And I believe him.
The whole scenery fades in the background as I stroke him, drinking his moans and enjoying his body falling apart against mine.
It's really obvious he's close.
I pull his hair again. “Open your eyes.” He does. “Watch.” His gaze lands on the men in front of us, and mine is on the sloppy blowjob they both seem to enjoy.
Blake whines. I'd give a lot to get inside his head right now and find out what he’s imagining.
But it's too late to contemplate that. Blake's body shudders violently and he reaches back to grab my hips for support.
His legs tremble and he lets out a series of high-pitched moans.
His cock swells in my hand, the underside vein working overtime.
And finally, he lets go as the first rope of cum shoots out of him, landing in my palm and the fabric of his boxer briefs.
I bite the inside of my cheek to ground myself as he still rocks against me, his body convulsing.
His orgasm lasts, and lasts, and lasts, and finally, his hips stop moving. He pants like he’s just run a marathon, his eyes still closed. As if he's afraid to open them.
Now that the dust has settled, I'm not sure he's ready to face the reality yet.
When he finally turns around, he doesn’t look at me, fumbling to close his pants, not minding he’s covered in cum.
He stares at the floor between our feet as if something interesting is written there, his cheeks and neck dark-red, looking out of place.
I step back to give him some space and wait. Not out of the goodness of my heart. He just seems so lost that even though I’ve just given him an orgasm, I almost feel sorry for him.
Finally, with the speed of a sloth on holiday, he lifts his chin until his gaze lands on my very hard cock.
He shudders like it scares him, and when our eyes meet, it’s more than clear I won’t be getting any action tonight. Not that I expected it.
He holds my stare for a few beats before looking away. Scratching the back of his neck, he mumbles to the floor, “Thanks.”
I sink my teeth into the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing. I don’t want to make him feel even more uncomfortable. “Anytime.”
Blake points his thumb over his shoulder to where he apparently thinks the exit is. “I’m just gonna….”
I try for a neutral tone as I say, “Sure.”
He turns around and bolts then. He’s walking very fast, but at least he doesn’t run this time. So hey, that’s progress.
As soon as he disappears behind the door, I lean against the wall, put my hands in my pockets and take a slow, deep breath.
I really don’t like him. That hasn’t changed. There’s just something about the guy that makes me defy my brain and do stupid shit like that.
Besides, just because I don’t like him doesn’t mean I don’t want to hate-fuck him.
But it’s not like I’ll ever get the chance to do that, anyway, so there’s no problem.
And maybe, that’s for the best.