Chapter Twenty-Four
Troy
Cryptid is swiftly exiled from my bedroom, the door clicking shut just as he lets out a frustrated meow from the hallway. Part of me feels guilty, but it’s for the best. My cat doesn’t need to witness the downright sinful things I’m about to do to my boyfriend.
The faint sweetness of that fruity cocktail still lingers on Ashton’s lips when I kiss him, hungry and impatient.
I spent the entire drive back from Grand Rapids with my hand on his thigh, dangerously close to his half-hard cock, squeezing lightly whenever he shifted.
I told him to be patient. To sit there and behave until we made it to my apartment.
And he did. He was such a good boy.
“You were so beautiful tonight,” I murmur against his mouth, guiding him backward until the backs of his knees hit the mattress.
He falls onto it with a soft bounce, and I climb over him, bracketing his hips with mine.
“The way you danced. The way you let yourself go.” I brush my nose along his jaw, breathing him in. “So sexy. I’m so proud of you.”
His eyes flutter shut, a soft sound slipping from his throat as his hands roam over my back. His fingers hook beneath the hem of my sweat-damp T-shirt, nails dragging hard along my skin. The sting sends a sharp, delicious thrill up my spine.
I press him deeper into the mattress, slow and deliberate, letting the heat build between us. The white glow of moonlight filtering through the blinds casts stripes across his skin, illuminating the flush high on his cheeks.
Tonight wasn’t just about dancing. It was about him choosing to be himself. And now, as he arches into my touch, I plan to make sure he never forgets how good that felt.
I reach between our bodies and rub his crotch, feeling his thick cock bulging in his jeans. I give it a firm squeeze, relishing the way his body squirms beneath me, his back arching to press against my palm.
“Will you fuck me tonight?” I purr into his ear.
Ashton stills, looking at me with wide, green eyes. “What?”
I nod eagerly, grinding down against him, letting him feel how hard I am. “Please.”
Up until this point, I’ve been the one doing all the fucking.
Ashton seems to enjoy bottoming, and I’m certainly not complaining.
Being inside his tight ass is pure ecstasy.
But God, I want to feel him inside me too.
There’s an ache in me, a throbbing void that only intensified after seeing him be so brave tonight.
“Are you sure?” Ashton asks, eyes flickering between mine.
I hold his gaze and nod, slow and certain. “I’m sure.”
His breath hitches, just barely. I lift my hand and brush my knuckles along his cheek, the heat of his skin blooming beneath my touch. He leans into it, eyes fluttering for a second before he steadies himself.
“It’s been a long time since I let a guy top me,” I admit, my voice quieter now. “But I want this. With you.”
Ashton bites his bottom lip, looping his arms around my waist to tug me closer. “Yeah. I want it too.”
My skin buzzes with excitement as I shed both our clothes, sharing messy, frantic kisses and giggling like teenagers.
Once he’s fully naked, I let my gaze drift over him, unhurried, taking in every detail.
His lips are flushed and kiss-swollen, shining faintly in the low light.
His blond hair drapes across the pillows like a golden halo.
His chest rises and falls with slow, heavy breaths, his pink nipples hard swollen buds.
He’s a contradictory masterpiece of hard lines and soft edges. Muscles carved from long days of labor, strength earned rather than sculpted, marked with faint tan lines from endless hours beneath the summer sun. He looks both powerful and graceful, rugged and luminous all at once.
Rolling my hips forward, I line up our hard dicks and grind them together. A low moan tears from Ashton’s throat, his eyes fluttering with pleasure as he grips my shoulders. I bury my face in the crook of his neck, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses, tasting the delicious salt of his skin.
I exhale, my words muffled against his flesh. “I wanna ride you.”
He must hear me, though, because he lets out a helpless whimper.
“Please,” he pleads, his body trembling beneath me. “I love it when you take control.”
The confession sends a pulse of heat through me, a growl of approval rumbling in my chest. I dip my head and nip at the curve of his collarbone, hard enough to make him gasp. He lifts his hips, seeking friction as our dicks glide together.
My patience wearing thin, I retrieve the lube and a condom from my nightstand.
I reach behind myself with two slick fingers, slowly sinking down while holding Ashton’s heady gaze.
He watches me intensely as I stretch myself, his jaw slack, eyes dark.
A smirk curls my lips as I start to give him a show, bouncing on my own fingers and moaning his name.
His teeth gnaw into his bottom lip, biting so hard I’m afraid he might draw blood.
“Troy,” Ashton whines, his fingers digging into my hips. “Let me feel you.”
He sounds so pretty saying my name like that—all debauched and needy, his cock leaking for me.
I ease out my fingers and roll the condom onto Ashton’s shaft, loving the way his lashes flutter when I finally get my hands on him again.
His hips flex needily, twitching with desperation, like his primal urge is to drive his cock into me.
But he’s holding back, being such a good boy while he waits for me to give myself to him.
With one hand, I grab the base of his dick and guide him to my entrance, the blunt head catching my rim.
Ashton lets out a garbled whimper, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard.
I start to lower myself, my body stretching around his girth with a delicious, dull burn.
I force myself to breathe through it until my ass is flush against his hips.
“Baby,” I whisper, giving myself a moment to adjust to the intrusion.
I play with my nipples to distract myself, tugging gently at the metal bars, sending a delicious sting of pain down my spine.
He watches me with parted lips, eyes hazy. “Kiss me?” he asks, voice adorably soft.
I happily oblige, leaning down to press my lips to his. The shift causes his cock to push deeper inside me, and I moan into his mouth, tugging at his hair. I rock against him in slow, purposeful movements, letting him fill the empty spaces inside me.
My head tips forward, black hair falling in front of my eyes like a curtain as I set a steady rhythm.
Ashton grabs my thighs to anchor himself to me, his fingers leaving red marks on my tattooed skin.
He thrusts upward to meet me, finding that spot inside me that makes fireworks explode behind my eyelids.
“Ash!” I choke out. “Right there—fuck!”
Bucking his hips, he pounds into me, the sound of slapping skin filling the spaces between our gasps and moans.
Wrapping one arm around my waist, he angles his thrusts and plants one foot flat on the mattress.
The new position gives him perfect leverage to slam into me mercilessly.
His cock drives into me, hard and fast, his eyes trained on me like he’s trying to study my reactions—like he wants to be good for me.
“Like this?” he asks breathlessly.
I nod shakily, desperately clawing at his chest. “God, yes, baby. You’re doing amazing.” I moan, slowly rolling my hips. “Such a good boy for me.”
Ashton whimpers, grinding into me hard and deep, letting me feel the slow drag of him.
It’s achingly perfect, the way he slides inside me with each careful push of his hips, our body heat melting together.
His face is pink and slick with sweat, hair sticking to his temples, visible red spots from my teeth etched across his neck.
Fuck, yes. I love the sight of my marks on him. He’s mine.
Ashton grabs my throbbing erection, stroking me in time with his thrusts.
I groan, caught between fucking myself against his cock and thrusting into his hand.
I don’t know where he ends and I begin. All I know is he’s complete bliss, the way he’s taking me apart like this, so focused on making me feel good.
He’s a hard worker, always striving for perfection, whether it’s working in the orchard or fucking me senselessly.
“I’m close,” I choke out, bouncing on his lap as his thumb strokes across my leaking slit.
“Do it,” Ashton pleads. “Come on me, please. Cover me with it. Wanna feel you all over me.”
Christ, his desperation is sexy.
I angle my cock toward his chest, stroking myself hard and fast until I finally erupt.
White-hot pleasure engulfs my nerve endings, my body convulsing and quivering on top of him.
Ropes of come spill onto his pecs, streaking across his neck and chin.
He dips his head, opening his mouth to catch a thick glob on his tongue.
It seems the taste of me sends him over the edge. His eyes screw shut, squeezing my ass flush against his hips as he empties inside me. He pulses inside me, and I swear I can feel his heartbeat through his cock, throbbing with heat.
My body gives out. I collapse onto Ashton’s chest, ignoring the sticky mess between us. His arms curl around my waist, pulling me in like he’s afraid I might disappear. He buries his face in my hair and breathes me in.
“You killed me,” he murmurs, voice thick with exhaustion. “I’m dead.”
I laugh softly and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “C’mon. You’re seven years younger than me. Where’s all that youthful energy?”
I shift, carefully easing off him. He whimpers at the loss and grabs at my hips in a feeble attempt to keep me there. When I look down at him, his green eyes are wide and pleading, his face scrunched with disapproval.
“Don’t go,” he mutters.
I snicker and shake my head, my joints popping as I slide off the bed. I remove the condom from his softening cock and toss it into the bin near my nightstand.
“We need to shower, baby,” I say, tugging him gently by the hand.
He groans, going boneless against the mattress as I try to pull him upright. “But your bed is so comfy.”
“That’s exactly why we need to get up,” I tease. “If we stay here, we’re never leaving.”
Ashton groans dramatically. “Will you carry me?”
I scoff. “No way! You’re a giant compared to me.”
He flutters his lashes, lips puckered in an exaggerated pout. “I thought I was your baby?”
“Yes,” I deadpan. “A very big baby.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “Rude.”
I laugh again and give his arm another tug. This time, with a theatric sigh, he finally swings his legs over the side of the bed. He sits there for a second, rubbing his face, hair sticking up in every direction.
As he stands, stretching with a soft groan, his gaze drifts to my nightstand. There are only two things on it: my phone and a picture frame. He steps closer, absently scratching at his chest as he studies it.
The frame’s edges are scuffed, the glass faintly clouded with time.
The photo inside has faded from years of sunlight.
At the center, my mother sits on a park bench, a brunette woman with olive-toned skin and tired, beautiful eyes.
She’s smiling down at a tiny version of me, bundled in her arms in a pale blue blanket.
Her expression is soft but worn, dark circles smudged beneath her eyes like she hasn’t slept in weeks.
Ashton glances back at me. “Is this your mom?”
I step up beside him and smile at the picture. “Yeah. Her name was Rachel.” My throat tightens just a little as I say her name. “I was maybe a few months old in that picture.”
“She’s beautiful.” Ashton studies her more closely. “You look like her.”
“Yeah,” I say softly. “I get that a lot.”
He stares at the photo for a long moment, biting the inside of his cheek like he’s trying to memorize her face. Then his expression shifts, something sheepish creeping in.
“Next time I come over, I’m flipping this picture frame face down,” he says. “I don’t like the idea of your mom watching me do lewdious things to you.”
I bark out a laugh, nudging his shoulder. “Lewdious, huh?”
“Yeah. It’s weird. Feels disrespectful.” He gestures vaguely toward the nightstand. “Like, your mom’s right there.”
“You’re ridiculous.” I shake my head fondly and pat his ass, nudging him toward the hallway. “Time to shower.”
He immediately slumps forward, going boneless against me, arms draped dramatically around my shoulders. “Can’t walk,” he moans. “Tragic. Sudden onset paralysis.”
“Mm-hmm. Very serious condition.” I roll my eyes. “Fine. I’ll try carrying you, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
His face lights up like I just offered him the world. “My hero.”
“Shut up.”
I bend and hook an arm behind his knees, the other around his back, and haul him up with a grunt. He’s all long limbs and solid weight, a six-foot-two furnace of smug delight.
He giggles—actually giggles—and pecks my cheek while I stagger forward. “You’re so strong.”
“I regret everything,” I wheeze, my body tensed with effort.
As expected, we only make it about two steps down the hallway before we collapse in a fit of laughter, tumbling to the floor in each other’s arms.