Preston #2
The sensation is dizzying, pushing me right to the edge of delirium.
I’m so high on the feel of rough pleasure and sweet pain, my legs are about to give out.
“That’s it, baby…move your hips for me…”
My nails scrape on the metal of the locker when I realize I am rocking my hips back and forth, rutting against him. His hand is trapped between my ass and…
Fuck. Is the heavy, warm thing against my ass his erection?
No, it can’t be that massive. Absolutely not. I refuse to believe that he has anything near my ten-inch perfection. No way in hell.
“Mmm. Fuck…just like that. Make my cock nice and hard for you.”
“Shut…your mouth, asshole…”
“Can’t. Not when you’re so slippery wet in my hand, baby.” He breathes in my ear as he jerks me in long, methodical movements, using my precum as lube.
The obscene noise fills my ears and apparently gags all my thoughts, because all that remains is the overpowering need to come.
“Faster,” I whisper.
“What was that?”
“Faster, you bastard…just…stop messing around.”
“No.”
“What the fuck do you mean no?” I snap, then groan when he presses his thumb on the tip of my cock.
“It means I’m going to take my time enjoying this.” He slides his tongue, swiping it across the spot behind my ear. “And so will you.”
I think I come a little all over his hand, my hips jerking and heat gathering at the base of my stomach.
“D-don’t do that.” I squirm.
“Don’t do what?”
“Lick me. I’m not an ice cream cone.”
“No, you’re candy.” He licks that spot again, and I groan. “Mango flavored.”
“This bastard…”
“Shh. Don’t get worked up.”
“Or what?”
“This is not a threat. Stop searching for one.” He nibbles on the shell of my ear. “Besides, you’re enjoying this a bit too much, your dick is weeping for me.”
“Told you it’s not for you…fuck—”
He slaps my ass, and I get on my tiptoes as pain explodes on the bruised flesh.
Oh, fuck. If he keeps doing that, I’m going to come…
“If it’s not for me, then for whom? Hmm?” Behind me, I hear fabric rustling, then feel his body shifting. “I’m the one whose hand you’re throbbing in, begging for more like a greedy little whore.”
“Fuck you.”
“Mmm. Whatever you want, beautiful.”
Even as I hear more movement behind me, I’m distracted by what he called me. Beautiful.
I mean, I know I am. That’s what I hear all the time. That’s what I say to my reflection in the mirror in the mornings, building the perfect illusion so no one can see the disfigured monster tucked beneath the Greek god’s looks.
But the way he said it felt sincere. Too sincere. Like he believes I’m beautiful.
My eyes widen when he pulls at my ass cheek, and something hard and warm nudges against my hole.
I buck violently, nearly falling over as I stare behind me. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“Shh. Stay still.”
Still gripping my cock, he uses the arm that’s looped around my waist to keep me in place with brute strength.
“D-don’t,” I whisper as the fat, thick crown presses firmly to my hole. “Just…don’t.”
“Relax. I’m not going to fuck you. Yet.”
Despite the awkward angle, I watch with bated breath as he spits on top of his cock that’s now sliding up and down the crack of my ass.
The image is filthy and wrong in my head.
I don’t like it—or more like, I shouldn’t like it.
The reality is, my dick is so hard, I’m about to burst.
His cock is as huge as mine and almost just as thick. Fuck this shit. Couldn’t he at least have a small dick to fit the asshole personality?
The spit adds friction as he glides his length up and down the crack, his eyes closing briefly in pure bliss as he bites the corner of his lip. “Your ass feels good, baby…so fucking good.”
I’m enamored, hypnotized, kind of feeling the neurons in my brain disappearing on me one by one, because fucking hell.
How can a man look so mouthwateringly sexy?
He’s a man, I remind myself. A fucking man. No soft curves or beautiful features. Just muscles and harshness and those thick brows drawing together as he groans.
I mean, he’s handsome, I guess, but he’s not the kind of beauty I find sexy.
At all.
So why the hell can’t I look away?
His jeans and boxers are close to his knees, and on his right muscular thigh, I notice a striking dagger tattoo that’s deeply etched into a daisy.
He opens his droopy eyes, and I jerk my attention toward the locker.
“I can do this all day, baby.” His words drop low, as if he’s carving them into my spine.
“Do what?”
“Touch you so…closely. Fuck. Do you feel what you’re doing to me?” He pushes my left leg apart with his, slightly lifting it off the ground. My boxers stretch impossibly tight as he glides his cock between my legs, releasing my cock to grab my waist.
My eyes widen. “What’s going on…?”
“I’m fucking you this way. For now.”
“You goddamn freak… Mmm…fuck…”
My head falls forward, banging against the locker because the friction of his cock against mine is sending me in a loop.
That feels so good, I’m about to burst.
“You’re dripping all over the floor. What a mess.”
“Shut…up.”
“As you wish.”
He shoves my ass against him, bending me over at the waist to get a better angle, and then he’s thrusting against my cock.
And it is thrusting—unhinged, relentless thrusting.
His throbbing hard cock rubs over a sensitive spot in my balls with each slide.
Up.
Down.
Up.
Down.
The sensation is sending me over the edge. The controlled friction, the feel of his cock against mine, the obscene fucking noises of my cum mixing with his spit.
“Shit…fuck…” I’m jerking my hips, chasing the orgasm I can feel tightening my abs.
“No. Slow down.”
“Fuck you…oh yes, right there…unghh…fuck.”
Slap.
I go momentarily still.
“I said. Slow down. The least you can do is let me enjoy this.”
“The least I can do?” I moan as he thrusts harder.