Chapter Twelve #3
Plump, soft lips parted in surprise, and Laken took full advantage, delving deep to taste the sweetness.
The noises they made were pure porn, sending sparks of delight to places that were asking for trouble, yet Laken couldn’t stop.
He’d imagined many times what it would be like to taste those delectable lips.
To suck the plump lower lip. Suck it between his and see what noises Isley would make.
It was nothing like his imagination had conjured. It was so much better.
Isley wasn’t passive, he met Laken’s hunger and matched it.
Small fists gripped his hair in a painful hold, directing Laken the way he wanted him, taking what he needed without apology.
His mouth was as urgent and hungry as Laken’s, tongues twined together, seeking to taste and explore.
To fly into the passionate haze that coated the world around them in fucking sparkles, blinding him to the reasons this was a bad idea.
Laken grunted and gasped into Isley’s mouth at the knee clipping his balls.
He was made all the more aware of how hard he was when Isley straddled his lap.
A very pert backside settled down on Laken’s groin, grinding hard in a rhythmic motion that, if continued, would have him coming in seconds.
Months of holding back left him with no restraint.
Could he stop it? Fuck no. Instead, he thrust into each motion.
“Motherfucker,” he cursed breathlessly, his eyes crossing as Isley’s heavenly mouth attacked his throat, using his teeth and tongue, dragging both over his over-heated flesh.
“Smell so good,” Isley panted, his breaths hitting Laken’s damp skin in the wake of his mouth trailing fervent kisses down his throat and hitting the sweet spot at the base.
The change of angle and the press of his erection against Laken ripped a moan of tortured pleasure from him. His shaft pulsed and leaked in boxer briefs that could no longer contain his cock, which pushed to escape the band.
“That’s it,” Laken praised against spit slick lips when Isley claimed his mouth once more, grinding and shimmying on top of him like a professional dancer. His movements created just the right amount of friction to drive Laken to the brink and beyond.
Breathless expletives fell from his lips at the unexpected force of his release, and he bucked, groaning painfully while his balls drew tighter, cum drenching his boxer briefs with spurt after spurt, leaving him blind to everything except the pleasure explosion going on inside him.
Isley groaned anew and sped up, squishing the cum into Laken’s skin and clothing, creating an unholy mess.
It shouldn’t have been a turn on, yet his cock twitched and his balls ached from giving everything they had while Isley arched into him, teeth grazing his throat possessively and making Laken’s heart thunder with an unfamiliar feeling.
Seconds or maybe minutes later, Laken couldn’t say which, Isley twitched and groaned through his release as Laken clung to him, whispering words of encouragement that came out with no conscious effort.
“So beautiful. That’s it, gorgeous, come all over me. Show me how much you want me. I can smell your cum, so fucking sexy mixed with your scent.” All he inhaled now was the smell of sex. Their sex.
When a shaking Isley slumped heavily against Laken’s chest, Laken folded him into his arms, running a warm hand up and down his back, feeling the trembles recede as his breathing slowed.
The expectations—of which he had none because this was never going to happen—versus reality were a world apart.
Nothing could have prepared him for the sensory overload.
The emotional blindside. Isley surrounded him in a way that left no room for anything else.
In the back of his mind, through the sex haze, something niggled, but it wasn’t strong enough to fight against satisfying his craving for this tiny sugar glider.
Laken had sworn to himself he wouldn’t get in this position, only here he was having allowed it to run amok through him like children in a playgroup fighting for toys, causing havoc and total disruption in their wake.
“I thought you two were talking?” came a cocky voice, bringing Laken’s heavy-lidded eyes open so fast it made him dizzy. He was also hit by the solid reality of what he’d done and the niggle from earlier formed into the amused fucker leaning on the doorframe.
Laken’s pulse tangoed all on its own as he froze in place, registering everything at once. The wet patch in his underwear. The reek of sex. Isley’s position on top of him. The intimate press of their groins saying Isley wasn’t in any better state. The total lack of concern Isley was displaying.
Had Somme witnessed what had just happened? Was this what the pair were into?
His lips twisted into a grimace at the thought. Laken didn’t share. Mother of all fucks, what have I gotten into?
“Go away, Somme,” Isley murmured sleepily, snuggling into Laken’s chest like he didn’t have a care in the world.
Rich, full-bodied laughter filled the room as the dark head tipped back and Somme laughed loudly, not appearing to care that his boyfriend was humping his boss and the room smelled like an omega heat club.
What the fuck is going on? No scrap that. What the fuck am I still doing here?