Chapter 51 #3
I keep devouring, sucking, teasing until my body is trembling with need, until I’m halfway down his abs, lips hovering lower, when suddenly his hand tangles in my hair, yanking my head up.
His lips are parted, his chest heaving, his eyes blown wide with hunger. He looks dangerous like this—dangerous and fucking gorgeous.
“You have two minutes,” he rasps, voice like gravel and fire, “to do whatever you want with me. After that—” his grip tightens in my hair, a warning, a promise “I’ll throw you to the edge of this bed, take your legs over my shoulders, and fuck you until you can’t walk for days.”
The image makes me shudder, and a needy little whimper escapes me. I want that so badly I could beg, but first, I want this. I need this.
So, I bat my lashes at him instead, heat curling through me, and give him a smile, wicked and shy all at once.
He tilts his head like he’s trying to read me, then releases my hair.
I waste no time. Sliding back, I make quick work of his belt, his suit pants, the fabric whispering down his thighs until I peel them off completely.
Then his briefs, freeing him, leaving him sprawled out in my bed in nothing but his unbuttoned shirt.
His chest is half-bared, broad and intimidating, but it’s the fact that he’s letting me do this that makes my pulse trip out of control.
Instead of crawling back onto his lap, I settle between his legs. He shifts just slightly, watching me with that unnerving, hungry patience. My eyes drop to his cock, it’s thick and heavy, demanding attention.
Nerves spike like ice water down my spine. My hand wraps around him, my fingers don’t even meet because of how big he his, and it still won’t stop surprising me.
I lean down, and my lips tremble against the ridges of his abs as I kiss lower, closer, and closer still.
Fuck. What if I can’t take him? What if I gag, choke, freeze? What if I make a fool of myself… The thought burns and twists with need until I press one last kiss just beneath his abdomen, and his whole body stiffens.
Then his hand is in my hair again, yanking my head back, harder this time, dragging my eyes to his. There’s fire there—lust, sharp and alive—but also something colder, suspicious.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His voice is low, stern, and commanding.
“I—”
His cock twitches in my hands, distracting me. I bite my lip and stroke him slowly, spreading the slick of his precum across his length.
His jaw tightens, and I feel his gaze harden. “Answer me”
“I… I want to suck your cock, Alex.” My cheeks burn as the words tumble free. “I wanted to do it on your birthday. But you just kissed me, dragged me back here, told me to study…” My lips push into a pout before I can stop them.
He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, like I’ve just grown two heads.
Then his voice drops, hard as steel. “You are not sucking me off, Lucas.”
Something in me flares—anger, embarrassment, want, all tangled. I swat his hand away from my hair, sit back on my knees so I can face him fully. My chest heaves, my blush refuses to die down, but my eyes lock on his anyway.
“And why the hell not?” I snap, glaring at him, the rejection slicing through me, shame prickling under my skin. My pride flares hot and reckless.
He doesn’t rise to it. He just watches me, calm, unreadable, studying me as if he can see straight through me. Then he exhales slowly.
“How long have you been thinking about doing this?”
I swallow, throat dry. My fingers tremble against him, but I don’t let go. “A month,” I admit, voice steadier than I feel. “I’ve been thinking about it for a month, and I’m sorry I snapped at you.”
He shakes his head, sighing like I’m both breaking him and testing him.
“Baby, I don’t know… I don’t think you—”
“Don’t.” My voice cracks as I cut him off, the words tumbling too fast. “Don’t bring that up right now. Fine, you don’t want me to do it because you saw a video—”
“Lucas.” His voice sharpens, cutting me off, then it lowers calmly, “ Don’t do that. I just… I don’t want you to because I don’t think you’re ready. And honestly…”
He drags a hand down his face, frustration rippling through him.
“I wasn’t expecting this.”
“Well, I am ready, and your dick seems ready as well, Alex, because it’s still hard as a rock.”
The words slip out before I can stop them, and my face flames scarlet.
For the first time since I’ve known him, Alex stares at me—speechless. His disbelief is almost comical, and I fight the nervous urge to laugh.
“I’m hard,” he finally says, voice rough, “because apparently my dick is stupid. It acts like this whenever you’re near me… or whenever you wear those shorts.”
My stomach flutters, heat shooting low. I glance down at him, still thick and rigid in my palm, then up again with a sly hum.
“Hmm. I wonder how much thicker it’d get if I wore lace panties and stockings.”
It’s meant as a tease, but the way his gaze darkens, molten and hungry, steals the breath from my throat.
“I’m just kidding—” The words choke off when I see the fire in his eyes. That look. Like he’d devour me whole if he let himself. Fuck, would he… would he want me to wear that?
“You’re leaving me speechless today, you know that, right?” he rasps, voice hoarse, a brow arched, like he can’t decide whether to scold or devour me.
I nod, my bravado crumbling into shyness under the weight of his gaze and the hunger in it.
“These are new PJs. I wore them because I know you like me in these shorts. I thought… it’d be nice to wear them when I gave you a blowjob.” I say shyly.
“Fuck, baby…” His whisper is quiet, ragged, but I see the temptation flickering hot in his eyes.
I swallow, heart pounding, and whisper, “Please, Alex. Let me suck your cock.”
The plea rips free, shameless, but I don’t care.
I’ve wanted this for so long. It’s not just about heat, it’s about fairness.
He gives me so much, touches me in ways that unravel me until I’m nothing but need, and I love it.
But why shouldn’t he feel that, too? Why shouldn’t I be the one to drive him over the edge?
The truth of it presses at the back of my mind.
I used to think I hated this. That part of me was ruined.
Tim and his friends made sure of that when they destroyed everything innocent that I thought I knew about desire.
For years, just the thought made me recoil.
But I’m not that boy anymore. Therapy’s been working.
I’ve been healing, moving forward piece by piece.
And when Nate finally died last month in that dungeon…
I let it all go. The guilt. The shadows.
All four of them are gone, and I feel nothing but relief.
It’s time to stop letting the past choke me.
And Alex—my Alex—is part of that. He’s my first in everything that matters. Emotionally, romantically, sexually. With him, every touch feels like a first time, every kiss like something new. I want this to be another first with him. Mine. Ours.
“If you don’t like it, I’ll stop,” I murmur, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “Just… let me try. If you say stop, I’ll stop. I promise, my love.”
His eyes darken, torn between restraint and the hunger flickering beneath. He exhales, curses under his breath.
“Fuck, baby…” He surges up, his hand sliding to the back of my neck, pressing a kiss to my lips that feels both desperate and anchoring. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine. His voice is low, rough.
“This isn’t about me, it’s about you. Are you going to be okay doing this?”
“I will.” My answer is steady, my chest tight with determination. “Just… guide me if I’m doing something wrong. Please?”
His jaw flexes, then he nods. “Okay. But you stop if you don’t want it. If anything feels off, you stop. Understand?”
“Alright.” I smile softly, relief rushing through me.
Before he can change his mind, I ease him back against the pillows. He adjusts, sliding two under his head so he can watch me. The way his eyes follow my every move makes me flush all over, my body open, exposed, trembling—but not with fear, with anticipation.
I settle back between his legs, wrap my hand tighter around his thick length, and stroke. My breath catches at the feel of him, hot and heavy, filling my palm. Then, slowly, I lean down. My lips brush the tip, tongue flicking against the bead of precum.
The taste of him blooms on my tongue; it’s raw, intoxicating. Bliss.
I flick my tongue across the underside of his head, side to side, circling. Another taste. Another. I map his head with my tongue like I’m learning a new language, savoring the sounds that slip from his lips.
“Holy… shit,” he grits out, voice ragged.
I look up, his cockhead still in my mouth, and he’s staring at me like he doesn’t believe what’s happening.
“It’s not a lollipop, you know that, right?” Alex’s voice is rough, strained, like he’s seconds from breaking. His eyes are locked on me, dark and conflicted, pleasure fighting against his last thread of control.
And he likes it—fuck, he likes what I’m doing.
“Take that cock down your—” He cuts himself off, biting hard on the words, but it’s too late.
Before he can stop me, I grip his base tight and slide down, taking him deeper into my mouth.
His thick length stretches me wide, filling me until the blunt tip pushes against the back of my throat, my eyes sting, and I gag, but I don’t pull away.
I stay there, steadying my breath, letting my mouth adjust around him.
My eyes squeeze shut, and I wait for panic.
For fear. For disgust. But all I feel is heat. Power. Happiness.
I’m doing this for him. For us. For me.
His hand slides into my hair, stroking instead of pulling, fingers threading tenderly like he’s afraid to hurt me. That touch—gentle where he could be rough—makes my chest ache. I blink up at him, my eyes watering, and when our gazes lock, there’s concern flickering in his.