7. Roman #3
As I slide lower to secure my hold on him, my erection pushes against the cleft of his ass. Even through my jeans, it’s obvious, and I know he feels it, too.
“Knew you’d follow me,” he utters, his voice straining as he catches his breath. “Just wanted to see how long it would take you.”
“You were testing me?”
His hand suddenly moves under mine, and he gets a grip on my palm, digging his nails hard into my skin. I wrest control of his hand again in a moment, but the sharp pain he laid into me just makes my cock harder.
“I’ll test you every fucking day,” he growls beneath me. “If you’re going to try to give me rules, get used to it. I’ll never stop. I’ll make you chase me every fucking night—”
I reach one hand up and grip the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling his neck backward. “I’ll catch you every time.”
“I fucking hate you.”
“Where’s that sad little angel from earlier?”
“He’s off the clock when I need to get fucked.”
“Adorable how desperate you are.”
He pushes his ass hard up against my groin again on purpose, and I yank his hair hard. “Keep calling me desperate when you’re this hard, Roman. Get it in your head. I can’t stand you. Didn’t even know the real you until today.”
“Not very fond of you, either. Need strange dick so badly you’ll sneak out like a child at night?”
“I’ll do whatever I fucking want,” he tells me in a low, bitter tone. “I told you I was a slut. I meant it.”
I shove my cock harder against his ass this time, an animalistic urge taking over.
My fingers are pushed deep into his soft hair, and I lean over and bury my nose in it, smelling his sea salt shampoo and just wanting to pull him closer.
His smell drives me wild.
I would never come close to doing this to another man. I’d never be hard on top of another man, because I don’t want them.
But the smaller size of his body underneath mine is like a shot of hard liquor right to my veins. I’m covering him completely, like I could keep him against my body forever and take him around like a goddamn charm in my pocket.
“If you need cock that badly,” I tell him, “You will come to me. Not a stranger.”
“The hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You know what it means.”
He groans lightly as I finally let my grip on his hair go, sliding my hand around to the front of his throat, instead.
I don’t even grip it hard.
And I only have one hand on his wrist, now.
He could try to struggle again, taking me off balance.
But he doesn’t. He stays still.
“Don’t know you all that well, Roman,” he says, and I can feel the vibration of his speech on my palm. “But I’m pretty sure you can’t give me what I need.”
“Is that right?”
“You don’t fuck men. You get so goddamn hard from taking control of me, but you’d never dare to actually do something about it. Cocktease.”
I can’t think fast enough in English for a moment, and I’m silent, dumbfounded and so turned on it’s almost painful.
I shift my body and use one arm to roughly turn Tate over in the grass.
When he lies down on the grass below me, he’s finally able to look up at me for the first time in the moonlight.
I’m straddling him.
He moves his hand instantly, reaching for my bulge.
I don’t stop him.
I fucking can’t.
“Holy hell,” he whispers as his fingers slowly close around the outline of my dick through the fabric. “That is… you’re even bigger than I thought.”
I breathe evenly. “I know.”
He keeps squeezing his fingers around my shaft, his pupils wide as he feels my size for the first time.
“I’ll give you my mouth, if you let me go afterward,” Tate says.
“Bargaining with me again, Tate?”
“I’ll make you come so hard you can’t breathe. Just let me go to one party tonight.”
In a snap, my possessive anger returns with a vengeance.
I swat his hand away from my cock, and he lets it go, his eyes dancing over my face in confusion.
“That’s not how this is going to go,” I tell him.
My belt makes a clinking sound over him as I yank it open. I shove down my zipper and push my pants down, just enough to pull out my cock and let it bob above his face.
“Oh my God.”
I give it a few long, slow strokes.
“When you’re with me, you don’t make the rules. And you need to quit fucking lying.”
“I’m not lying to you.”
I peer down at him. “Are you really offering me your mouth just so you can go to a party? Or is it something else?”
He presses his lips into a thin line. “Roman.”
“Tell the truth—”
“I want your cock because I fucking want you,” he finally says. “Is that what you want me to say? I want you every fucking time I see you, and it’s constant, and so goddamn irritating.”
I nod. “Good boy.”
I drop lower and push my tip against his soft lips.
My tip is glistening with precum, and it slides against his mouth, slicking his lips. He parts for me and I feel the warmth of his breath as he exhales and speaks.
So good.
So fucking good to finally feel that.
“This is how it will go. I’m going to fuck your mouth,” I tell him in a low tone, “and then you’re going to stay here with me. Not go to some random boy at a party.”
He moans softly as I push my tip over his lips again, much harder this time, and I claim his mouth as my own.