Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 47238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Rory had dreamed he was kissing David again. Dragging him upstairs and away from the crowded reception this time and finally touching him the way he’d wanted to since they’d met. Since the first time he’d seen him naked, and every time after.
Even at seventeen, David’s body had been a thing of beauty, and it had only gotten better with age. Mr. Mills was a muscular, big-boned behemoth—God love those Oregon lumberjack genes—and David had inherited his father’s height, broad-shoulders and easygoing personality, but his days at the track kept his waist narrow, his legs sculpted and his firm round ass…
Fuck me, Rory thought, his hand slipping between his body and the bed to grip the base of his cock. David’s ass always screamed, “Fuck me.” And damned if Rory didn’t want to give in to the temptation it offered more than he wanted to breathe.
David was that kind of wholesome-handsome that made Rory yearn to rough him up. To lick and bite and suck and worship until he was ruined for anyone else. He didn’t have a clue how irresistible he was. Of course, that only made him hotter.
He was a god in geek clothing. And out of it. Especially out of it.
Rory knew every inch of David’s body from years of observation. In the showers at school. Skinny-dipping in the lake on weekends. Changing in the gym locker room. He’d become a professional side-eye stalker, keeping his arousal concealed while getting his fill of his oblivious, wet dream of a friend…and his masterpiece of a cock.
Even rumors of the well-hung Jeremy Porter couldn’t rival what Rory had seen with his own lustful eyes. Cut and slightly curved. Obscenely thick even at rest and nearly as long as his own. For years Rory had plotted out a dozen sneaky, crazy ways he could replicate the damn thing and keep it by his bedside for situations just like this one.
Wrong? Deeply. But that didn’t make it any less true. He was obsessed.
He let himself imagine David’s long fingers tracing every vein and ridge of that erection as he watched Rory jerk off in bed. Yes. He wanted those golden-brown eyes focused on him. Wanted David to see him. To want him. He was desperate to know what that monster felt like filling his mouth.
The sudden image of Rig kneeling at David’s feet made Rory shudder with arousal instead of disappointment. How could that erotic visual ever disappoint him? His throat tightened in sympathy when Rig choked and he moaned in gratitude as the mouthwatering girth disappeared between succulent lips.
Fuck, why was that so hot?
But he knew why. If Rory’s not-so-secret fetish was defiling heterosexuals, Rig’s was more oral in nature. The gorgeous Italian had a fixation that bordered on obsession. Rig loved oral more than sex. He loved it more than he liked watching the Food Network on his phone when he was supposed to be working. He loved it more than anything and was so good at it he could suck a man’s will directly out of his cock along with his brain.
Rory knew it, now David did too. But in this fantasy, David wasn’t choosing one of them over the other. He wanted both.
Rory’s fist tightened, his thrusts picking up speed as the scenario played out in his mind. Rig was tireless, his jaw practically unhinging as David fucked himself down his throat. The large hands Rory loved held Rig’s head still as he took what he wanted, and warm eyes stared into Rory’s, as if daring him to take his turn.
I can’t. Oh God.
His cock was leaking over his knuckles and onto the soft sheets beneath him as he held off, hesitating. Even in his fantasy he hesitated. Giving in meant no going back. Giving in would make him too vulnerable. What he wanted from David wasn’t something he usually admitted, even to himself.
Before he could stop his traitorous thoughts, he let himself feel David behind him, pinning him down and biting his neck while Rory buried his face in the pillow, gasping and desperately fisting his aching cock. He needed to come. He licked two fingers then pressed them between the cheeks of his ass, imagining they were David’s instead. “Fuck me.”
“You don’t want to be the teacher, don’t want to be in control at all, do you? Not with me. You want to be mine.”
It was never going to happen.
He couldn’t stop himself from forcing one finger inside and groaning at the sting and stretch but it wasn’t enough. His plug at home wasn’t enough. It never had been. There was only one thing that worked when he was like this.
David spinning him around to bend him over. David yanking Rory’s pants down impatiently. A hand on his back to keep him still as he filled him with one hard stroke, forcing Rory to take every inch… “Jesu—fuck. Yes, fuck.”