Preston #3
“Yeah. Because you know what I’d rather be doing now?”
“What?”
“Shoving you onto your knees or bending you over and fucking you rough. Pumping my cock inside this tight, little hole and filling you with my cum, nice and deep, while you scream my name.”
The image appears like a grainy movie in my head, and I expect a sense of nausea to overwhelm me. To make me vomit, even.
None of that happens.
If anything, my dick swells and pulses, I’m so close…
“But you’re not ready for that, so this…” He exhales sharply. “I will be taking my sweet time with this.”
“Fuck…I’m…I’m…”
“You’re going to come?”
“Yeah…just…faster…”
“Be a good boy and close your thighs for me, baby. Make me come, too.”
I clench my legs together on autopilot. My head’s so foggy, I can’t think straight. All I can do is feel the sparks of blinding pleasure and bask in his unapologetic firm touch.
Marcus groans deep in his throat as he picks up his pace, still controlled but faster, and the friction is so good, I drop my head on the metal.
“That’s it, baby…your big cock is so slippery wet.”
“Yes…there…right there…yes, fuck!”
“Come for me, baby.” He licks that spot behind my ear. “Show me who the fuck you belong to.”
I don’t know what sends me over the edge. Whether it’s his words, the ruthlessness of his cock rubbing, or the pulsing pain in my ass.
Whatever it is, I’m tumbling down at an alarming speed, and a choked noise slips from my lips. My dick swells and swells, then bursts all over the place in an absolute mess.
My cum’s everywhere—on the locker, floor, and him.
It’s like I couldn’t mark him enough.
Wait. Mark him?
What the fuck? I don’t think about marking others. Have zero interest in that business, actually.
“Fuck, baby, that’s a lot of cum.” He grunts, his voice so low and raspy, tilting on the loss of control.
He grabs my hips tighter, dragging my ass against his groin, and thrusts harder, the friction so intense and painfully delicious.
“You…” I pant, my voice husky and out of breath. “Just come already…”
“Oh fuck…say that again… Mmm.”
“Come…” I trail off, then command, “Come for me.”
“Fuck!”
I watch with a sort of hypnotization as the purple veins on his cock throb, and then he erupts all over mine. Pulses of thick cum cover me whole, and my dick twitches.
My body is shaking as I keep staring at our cum mixing and forming a puddle on the floor. It’s filthy and achingly titillating, a sight that shouldn’t feel this good.
He nuzzles his nose in my hair, inhaling me deeply, his hands around my waist keeping me steady. We’re both panting, our ragged breaths reverberating in the air during the aftermath of whatever the fuck that was.
A mistake I’ll regret in epic fashion, that’s what.
I need to go and have a meltdown in Dr. Duret’s house in the middle of the night.
Not the first time it’s happened—won’t be the last either.
Straightening, I drag in a few stabilizing breaths, forcing the mask back into place.
One more inhale, and I nudge him with my elbow as I pull my boxer briefs up with one hand. “Let me go.”
“Just a second.” His grip tightens on my hips—and then his tongue drags over that insanely sensitive spot behind my ear.
My body shudders. My brain explodes in tiny dots of black as instinct takes over.
It happens in a flash.
I spin around and slap him. Well—backhand him.
We both freeze as his cheek reddens instantly.
Fuck.
I did not mean to do that. I just wanted to push him away because that touch was triggering unwanted memories.
“I told you to let me go,” I say instead, yanking my boxer briefs the rest of the way up like they’re going to protect me from this disaster.
I brace for him to hit me back—and honestly, I’d deserve it. If he’d done that to me, I’d be printing his obituary.
But he doesn’t.
He just narrows his eyes. For a split second, something flickers in that stormy gray gaze, but it instantly disappears as he reaches into his duffle bag.
His back is to me, so I can’t see his face.
What I can see, however, is the defined muscular globes of his ass and the dimples on either side.
I look away immediately. Why the fuck am I checking out his ass?
He takes out a shirt, wipes himself down, then pulls up his jeans and boxers, tucking himself back in.
I’m still salty that his cock is huge. Downright offended.
There goes my bragging rights.
Boo.
Marcus turns around and I tense, ready for impact.
Instead, he reaches into his pocket, pulls out two candies, and shoves them into my hand. “Good luck with the game tomorrow.”
His voice is neutral. Too neutral. Flat and emotionless.
I don’t like it. Not at all.
I prefer for him to hit me.
Before I can examine whatever the hell that tone means, he grabs his duffle bag and stick and walks out of the locker room.
Leaving me alone with a thousand questions and an absolutely catastrophic sexuality crisis.
Because, as much as I hate admitting it…that was, without competition, the best sex I’ve ever had.
I sag against the locker, my hands cradling my forehead.
I need to end this dangerous fixation before it ends me.