Chapter 19 #2
“I’ve been your boyfriend for a while now, Ezzie. I’m glad you are finally caught up to date.” He chuckles, stunning me. I don’t get to ask him exactly what he means though, because he speaks again. “Seeing you at my match today is the first time I have had anyone there supporting me.”
“Your parents—”
“It’s not the support I needed,” he cuts in. “My father lives vicariously through me. I’m little more than an investment to him.”
“Your mom?”
He smiles. “My mom tries, but she lets my dad manage all the bowling stuff. I know she loves me, but she doesn’t really know how to support my career. Except for @ThorneyPins, of course.”
“Thorney… what?”
He lets out a quiet laugh. “Her social media handle. She’s a sports mom influencer.”
“I don’t do social media. I would’ve known.”
Truett’s smile widens. “So, unfortunately, Ezra, no one’s really ever been there for me in the way I needed.” His gaze settles on me. “But you were. You are.”
A gentle thump stirs in my chest.
“And because of that, I’m winning—and for the first time, it actually feels good. I feel more alive than I have in a long time.” His mouth curves. “And I’m ready to celebrate my win properly.”
“Yeah? And how do you plan on celebrating?” I ask, heart pounding rapidly in my chest, and I’d be surprised if he couldn’t hear it.
Instead of answering, Truett pulls me closer.
His lips find mine, and our tongues and teeth clash, trying to dominate each other’s mouth.
I don’t know which one of us pulls my shirt over my head, but soon it falls to the floor, and Truett pushes me on the bed.
I land with a bounce, barely enough time to right myself before Truett is on top of me, pinning me down.
He’s shirtless now. When did that happen?
“You’re going to be my prize for winning tonight, Ezzie,” he says in a low, seductive tone that has my toes curling in my shoes. I quickly kick them off, working my socks off in the process. “And this time, no one is going to walk in on us.”
“About fucking time,” I say, my words coming out far breathier than I mean them to.
“You’re mine,” he growls, as if, in the span of talking about being boyfriends to now, I had forgotten about it.
His hands fly to my zipper, fingers skirting across my clothed cock.
I didn’t know it was possible, but I harden even more, letting out a less than manly whimper, but I’m too far gone to care.
I reach for him, needing his clothes off. Needing nothing between us.
I’m used to being in charge of every situation. Always calling the shots. But now the reins are taken from me, and Truett seems to be calling the shots. I didn’t think I would like this dynamic, but I’m finding out, with Truett, I like anything this man gives me.
With a hard yank, Truett pulls off my jeans, leaving me in only my boxers.
His hand comes up to palm me through the fabric, and my body jolts at his touch.
I’m so fucking sensitive, I feel like a damn teenager getting dicked down for the first time.
Except that went nothing like this. I don’t think anything has ever felt like this.
Not wanting to be the only one almost completely nude, I tug hard on Truett’s pants.
He helps me slide his pants and boxers down his legs, and quickly his clothes join mine.
I didn’t get a good look at Truett last time, so this time, I look my fill, drinking in every intoxicating inch.
He is true perfection, from his strong shoulders to the dip in his hips and the curve of his perfect white ass.
My gaze lingers between his legs, at his heavy cock standing at attention.
My hand reaches out on its own accord, wrapping around his slightly curved shaft.
We groan in unison, his girth fitting nicely in one fist. I pump him once, loving the way his eyes flutter closed as I do.
My thumb reaches out to gently rub against his mushroom tip.
Just the sight of his cock makes my mouth water like a slut in a sex shop.
No slut-shaming here. I’ll happily be Truett’s slut tonight.
Truett’s fingers grip my chin firmly yet deliberately, tilting my face up to meet his gaze.
He’s more confident and forceful than he was in my bedroom, and I fucking love it.
The warmth in his hazel eyes is gone, replaced by something darker—something raw and all-consuming.
He studies me with a dominance I’ve never seen from him before, his presence crackling with unspoken intent that has my body on high alert.
This isn’t the golden retriever of a man who rushes to help at the drop of a hat or the soft-spoken gentleman who introduced himself to my family. No, the man before me is something else entirely—commanding, untamed, exuding a quiet authority that makes my pulse throb.
A slow smirk tugs at his lips, as if he knows exactly what he’s doing to me. And god help me, I fucking love it. I melt for him.
“You’re going to take this cock, Ezra. I’m going to start with that pretty, pouty mouth of yours. Understand?”
How the hell am I going to live through this? Death by dick isn’t a bad way to go, so I nod, eagerly accepting my fate, but on one condition. “I want to feel your lips around my dick too.” Because once wasn’t enough. I doubt it’ll ever be.
Instead of answering, Truett shifts over me, turning until he’s straddling my face, his body angled so we’re perfectly aligned—his cock hovering at my mouth while I’m laid out beneath him, exposed in the same way.
Is it possible for a man to be beautiful like this? Because Truett is. The curve of him, the way he fits my gaze like he was made to be there. My body reacts before I can think, anticipation tightening low in my gut, knowing exactly where this is headed—and how badly I want it.
Truett pulls down my boxers, and I help shimmy out of them.
All thoughts of him being inside of me quickly go away when his warm mouth wraps around my cock.
My brain short-circuits, and I think of nothing but the man on top of me as I take Truett into my mouth.
I hollow my cheeks, making sure I’m breathing through my nose.
It’s nearly impossible to concentrate on anything other than him sucking me, but I do my best.
I take him down, down, down, until he stuffs my throat entirely.
My heart races as I try to calm my body and keep it from tensing.
I pull back and repeat the motion again, earning a pleased sigh from Truett.
I work him in and out of my mouth, my hands on his thighs in a punishing grip.
It’s more to keep me grounded than him in place.
And then he takes one of my balls into his mouth, and everything fades away. There’s nothing but the sensation of his mouth on me. His expert tongue teases me in a way he’s figured out all on his own. Even with my mouth full of him, I want more. Need more.
Pleasure builds within me. A tightening in my lower abdomen tells me Truett is working me toward my first orgasm. I bob my head in time with his, matching his speed and intensity. We both try to chase our climax as it builds and builds within us. I’m close. Almost there. And then…
Truett pulls away.
I don’t need to see him to know he has a wicked smile on his face, that bastard. “I’m not ready for you to come yet, babe. Not until I’m inside of you, fucking you like I’ve been wanting to do for a while now.”
His words are just words and shouldn’t be as hot as they are, but I’ve always been into dirty talk during sex. I hate when people shy away from it, forcing us to fuck in silence. That’s more awkward to me.
“You’ve thought of fucking me?” I ask, panting.
Truett laughs deep in the back of his throat.
His heavy weight is off me, and I immediately miss his warmth.
He moves off the bed and grabs something from the bedside table.
The bed dips again as he climbs between my legs.
“Many times, in many different ways. I think about you tightening around me as we come together.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Truett grabs my legs, pushing them back against my chest. “Keep them there for me, baby. Let me see that pretty little hole of yours.”
His words are so crude and dirty. He has me panting like a bitch in heat, so of course I do as he says, baring myself to him.
He looks over every inch of me, as if committing the scene to memory so he can relive it again later.
Even in this vulnerable position, I feel powerful.
Powerful because of the way he drinks me in, making me feel like he’d do anything I ask of him.
Something pops open, and I notice the small bottle of lube in his hand. He came prepared, but so did I. I didn’t know this would happen, but I hoped, so I also packed lube and condoms. And who knows, depending on how the night goes, we may need them.
“Relax for me, Ezra,” he says in a way that makes it very hard to relax. He rests a hand on the back of my thigh as his free hand reaches down. The first swipe of his finger against my rim has me tensing. “Relax, baby. I need to get you ready. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Maybe he’s trying to distract me, or maybe he just can’t help himself, but Truett leans in and captures my lips with his.
This kiss differs from before. The hunger and the urgency are still there, simmering just beneath the surface, but now there’s something deeper.
A slow, deliberate passion. His tongue teases mine, coaxing me open, claiming my mouth, until the tension drains from my body.
Every stroke, every heated press of his lips has me unraveling beneath his touch, until I’m nothing but putty in his hands, ready to be shaped by his desire.