Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 105080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 525(@200wpm)___ 420(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 525(@200wpm)___ 420(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
He didn’t pull off me to reply. I looked down at him, at the blissed-out expression in his eyes as he sucked and stroked me. Definitely one of the hottest things I’d ever seen. It was as if Anson was treasuring me, wanting to devour me because he couldn’t get enough of my dick in his throat.
I went down on him again. He tasted like soap, and I wished he tasted more like sweat. The taste of a musky man was sexy as hell.
I used one of my hands to ghost my fingers behind his balls. When he spread his legs wider, still not pulling away from my rod, I kept going until I brushed a finger over his asshole. Anson lost his rhythm, making me stop.
“No, don’t stop. You can… I wanna feel that.” His face flamed red, and then he got back to work on my dick again, like he was starving and it was his favorite meal.
I sucked my finger, getting it nice and wet, then began blowing him again and letting my finger circle around his rim. I tapped it, pressed easy and slow, just pushing the tip inside before pulling it out again.
He whimpered with a mouth full of dick, so I did it again, teasing him, giving him a taste of what it was like to have something inside him that way, each time pushing in a little more. It would be better with lube, and I didn’t want him too uncomfortable, so it was just a preview, one I hoped would make him crave more.
My balls were full, and his were tight and high too. I could already tell when Anson was about to come. I’d gotten him off with my mouth so often when he’d been at my place that I now noticed the jerkier movements of his hips and his increased breathing.
I gave him more of my finger and took his dick to the back of my throat, swallowing around it just as I thrust inside him. Anson damn near convulsed as he shot his release down my throat in long, thick spurts. It was enough to make me unleash too, my orgasm taking over as I emptied my own balls into his mouth.
I fell onto my back, and then he was there, pushing himself over me, his tongue stroking mine as we kissed, and I tasted my load in his mouth, knowing he tasted his as well.
Fuck, I was so gone over him.
“I’ll buy you a hundred new jerseys. Maybe three hundred and sixty-five of them. One for every day of the year.” He laughed, rolled onto his back, and pulled me with him so I lay on top of him.
“I…”
He fingered my hair and brushed his thumb over my cheekbone. “I can’t stop doing this with you. God help me, but I can’t. As long as you’ll have me, I want you.”
I closed my eyes, trying to will myself to say no, to tell him we had to stop, that this was stupid and would never go anywhere, but I didn’t. “I don’t know when I’ll ever get my fill of you.” I would let him take that however he wanted to take it. Hell, I wasn’t sure if I knew what I meant…or if I wanted to admit it.
Anson stared at me, his gaze penetrating, searching, and the thing was, I didn’t want to hide myself from him, not like I would have with anyone else.
“The playoffs start soon, then the Super Bowl. The ring is ours this year, and…I need to concentrate on that, but afterward, maybe we can… We’ll have to sneak around, but if you still want me, maybe we can meet up to talk.”
I grinned. “And fuck.”
My smile must’ve been contagious, because one spread across Anson’s face as well. “And fuck,” he replied.
“It’s a date.”
We lay there a while longer, then cleaned up. He held on to my jersey as I kissed him goodbye at the hotel door.
When Anson slipped out, I dropped my forehead against it.
What the hell were we doing?
Chapter Twenty-Five
Anson
Late December
“Motherfucker!” My thumb pressed the buttons on my video game controller over and over.
Elias had parked his chair next to where I was sitting on the couch. He’d come over to hang out for a while, since the playoffs would be starting soon, and he knew I needed some downtime.
“I got this, bro. You’re so fucking mine,” Elias said, and he was right, of course, the dick. He beat me, and I tried not to pout. I hated to lose, even if it was just a stupid video game.
“Aw, is my big brother mad? Someone is a sore loser.”
“I let you win,” I teased. “That’s what being a big brother is about.”
My statement was enough to make Elias laugh out loud. “You have always been the world’s best big brother, but you have never let me win anything in my life. You respect me too much, and you also hate losing too much. You have to be good and perfect at everything. That’s a lot of fucking pressure, man.”