Chapter 24 #2
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” I bend down and lick the precum from his tip. “All tied up for me.”
“Ethan, please.”
He breaks the no-talking rule, but I allow it, because hearing him beg makes me feral.
I let saliva pool in my mouth and spit on his shaft. Wrapping my hand around him again, I pump my fist faster, his balls clenching in my palm. His chest heaves, and his abs contract with the effort to remain still. I add more spit and increase my pace, twisting my wrist on the upstroke.
His thighs tremble and his hips writhe. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me come if you keep doing that.”
“No, you won’t.” I tighten my grip. “Not until I say you can. You wanted to be punished, remember? This is what you get.”
I slow my strokes, and he tugs at the restraints, biceps bulging.
“Please, don’t stop,” he whimpers. “I need to come.”
His cock is hot and heavy in my palm, my own erection impossibly hard and straining against my jeans.
Leaning down, I lick another bead of precum from his slit. “Tell me what you want, baby.”
“Your mouth.” He thrusts into my hand, seeking friction, despite my warning. “I need your mouth. Please, Ethan.”
My name from his lips—raw, ragged, pleading—has me aching to get to the part when we both come. But not yet. I want to draw this out, make him unbearably desperate for me.
“I said, don’t move.” I pull back, letting him think I’ve stopped.
“No,” he whines. “Touch me. Please. I’ll stay still.”
I yank off my Henley and unzip my pants. “You want my mouth?”
“Fuck yes. A thousand times yes.”
I strip off his boxers and sweatpants and toss them to the floor. Luckily, we’re semi-secluded, and I couldn’t care less about the cold right now.
The sight of him has me staring again. He’s fucking wrecked—hair disheveled, T-shirt rucked up, white socks still on, wrists bound to the lounger, his cock glistening, precum leaking steadily onto his stomach. The image burns itself into my memory.
I settle between his thighs, and my erection throbs painfully, trapped between my body and the mattress. Gripping the base of his shaft, I take him into my mouth and suck gently.
He yanks at the restraints, and the bed frame creaks. “Holy fuck,” he pants. “Please, don’t stop.”
I hollow my cheeks and draw him deeper. I’m nowhere near as good as he is—he practically deep throats me—but his response makes me believe I’m doing something right.
“God,” he moans low, his neck arched, the tendons taut. “Your fucking mouth. Let me come.”
I don’t. I withdraw and run my tongue along the underside of his cock. “I’m not done with you yet. Spread your legs farther.”
His knees widen without hesitation, and my gaze snags on those damn white socks. Who knew that was so hot?
I suck two fingers into my mouth, wetting them thoroughly, then trace down his ass and circle his rim with my middle finger.
His breath hitches. “If you do that, I’ll come.”
“Not yet.” I push past the tight ring of muscle and crook my finger to find that magic spot.
When I hit it, his cock jolts, lifting off his stomach. His eyes fly open, wild and unfocused, his lips parted and chest heaving. “Ethan, please—I’m begging you.” His hips buck, unable to stay still.
“So dramatic.” I’ll admit, my smile might be a little sadistic. “But I love when you beg.” I apply firm pressure to his prostate.
The groan that tears from his throat is primal. “Fuck—I can’t—”
“Yes, you can.” I slide in a second finger while stroking his length with my other hand. “You wanna come in my mouth, baby boy?”
He rocks against the dual sensations. “God, yes… I’ll do anything… Fuck… Please...”
“Okay, baby.” I twist my fingers inside him. “You can come in my mouth.”
I wrap my lips around his shaft, bobbing my head and sucking hard. His cock pulses, and his body goes rigid. He chants my name mixed with a few curses.
His hips jerk, and his abs flex with each hot spurt of cum that fills my mouth. I fight the urge to swallow, breathing through my nose and massaging his prostate while he rides out his orgasm.
When his moans subside, I withdraw my fingers and release his softening erection. His eyes are heavy-lidded and glazed, a blissed-out look on his face.
I get to my knees and rip down my boxers, finally freeing my aching cock. The cool air hits me, a sweet relief to my heated skin. I spit into my palm and grip my shaft, the mixture of my saliva and his cum making the perfect lube.
“You’re so fucking hot.” He struggles with the bindings, attempting to free his wrists. “Let me touch you—fuck my throat.”
“Always so needy.” I drop over him and devour his mouth.
Our tongues intertwine as I stroke my cock fast and rough, my fist flying over my length.
He breaks the kiss, his eyes locking with mine. “Come all over me, Coach. Mark me.” He sinks his teeth into my bottom lip.
His words, his lust-filled gaze, are my undoing.
“Fuck, Jax,” I groan, deep and guttural.
My vision blurs at the edges. Pleasure rips through me, and I come in thick ropes across his stomach and chest. I stroke myself through the aftershocks and glide the head of my cock through the cum. I may or may not make a shape. He doesn’t notice, and I’ll never tell.
Completely spent, I collapse beside him on the lounger, fix my boxers, and drag the blanket over us. I fumble with the belt at his wrists, my fingers clumsy and uncoordinated in my post-orgasm haze.
When I free him, he curls into me, not at all caring about the mess between us. His arm drapes across my shoulders, his face nuzzles into my neck, and his hand tangles in my hair.
For a moment, we lie there, our breathing gradually slowing in tandem.
I lift his wrist to examine the marks banding the underside. “Fuck. I’m sorry.” I brush my lips along his reddened skin.
“Don’t be.” He returns his fingers to my hair and plays with my sweaty curls. “It was fucking incredible.”
“Are you sure?” I search his eyes. “Be honest with me. Don’t just say what you think I want to hear.”
“Positive. It was perfect; don’t give me that look.” He kisses my chest. “The Viking needs to get his shit together so we can all play.”
My brows furrow into a scowl. “Are you thinking about Reece after I just wrecked you?”
“No.” He laughs. “I’m thinking about Aurora. Reece is spoiling our playtime. Send him to boxing with the twins or something.”
“Not a bad idea, once his shoulder is healed.” I kiss his lips one last time. “You ready to go in? We need to shower.”
“I don’t think I can walk. My legs are Jell-O.”
Now it’s me who laughs.