Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 109038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
I pause, my body feeling frozen for a moment. “Obviously I want it. I just doubt that you do.”
He grips my cock harder. “Relax. Let me return the favor.”
I watch his hand move between my legs, exhaling as he charges forward.
“Never been bullied into a hand job before,” I mutter.
“Well, I’ve never given a hand job before, so I guess we’re fuckin’ twins tonight, Logan.”
I try to relax into the pure sensation. His hands are just rough enough that the friction feels incredible on my cock, and I breathe deep, focusing on every tug.
I gaze down at his hand and see that he has two tiny tattoos on the edge of his index finger. A tiny bird, a tiny feather. I let my body lean backward against him, the front of his chest connecting with my back, warm and solid, and he hums when I finally lean against him.
He reaches his other hand to shove the bottom of my shirt upward, exposing my stomach, reaching up underneath the fabric to clutch at my chest.
“How much do you work out?” he says near my ear.
“Probably too much.”
He exhales. “Send me your gym routine.”
“I’ll get right on that. Fuck, Chase—”
He’s started pulling my cock in a faster rhythm, working me from root to tip, and I can’t exactly focus on the idea of my workout regimen right now.
“You have a nice cock, too, you know,” he says. “I’m going to watch when you come for me. I’m curious to see it. I want you to come as hard as you can.”
“Demanding,” I whisper, a jolt moving through me as he drags his fingertips along my underside. “What is with you?”
“I told you, I know what would make me come, so I’m doing that to you,” he says firmly. “It’s a cock, not rocket science. Am I doing enough?”
I hum. “More than enough.”
“Good.”
He grips me with every bit of first-time confidence. His technique is a little different than I use on myself, and more forceful, but it’s making me so hard I’m having trouble staving off my orgasm.
He’s so pushy.
Exactly the type of person I usually can’t stand, with a personality big enough to fill this whole city block and act like he rules the place.
Ordering me to come like that—
“Fuck yes,” he whispers as he runs his thumb through the precum on my tip, and I involuntarily buck my hips and push my back against the warmth of his chest.
“I’m close.”
“I can tell.”
He brings up his speed and grips me tighter, and it’s enough to tip me over the edge.
Too soon.
Too fast.
But I want it too badly to care about that.
“Going to come,” I warn him, my voice getting a little louder, and I try to hold off for another moment but it’s already happening.
“Then do it already,” he demands, and holy fuck, his pushiness—
I spill white all across my lower stomach and all over his hand. He grips my cock tight and strokes me through each pulse. I can feel it radiate through my whole body.
And then there’s more. And more. There’s so much white spilling from my tip that I forgot it could even look like that, a complete fucking mess all over his fingers and myself.
He hums, then actually fucking laughs, not really like he’s laughing at me but more from sheer astonishment.
“Holy fuck, Logan, do you always come this much?” he asks.
I lean my head back and one side of my head momentarily rests on the side of his.
“No. Yes? I’m not sure.”
“God,” he says, dragging his thumb right near a fat streak of white on my stomach. “I should have come on you instead of over there, so you’d be covered in it like you’re a canvas. Maybe I’d rather paint you like this, instead of with real paint. Just coat you in white. Can I take your picture like this?”
“You’re not taking a photo of me,” I say, a serious tone in my voice.
He slides his hand up further under my shirt, idly sliding his fingers over one of my nipples, and then the other.
“Fine. I’m not going to. Relax. You just look wild right now.”
My nipple hardens as he gives it a pinch, and I pull in a breath. “And you’re awfully handsy.”
He slides his hands off of me, and I get the sense I struck a nerve.
“Say the word, and I’ll stop. I’m a touchy-feely kind of person,” he says in a matter-of-fact tone. “That’s always been true, regardless of my sexuality.”
“It’s fine. I liked the touch, Chase. I just need… I need to clean up.”
My reality is surging back into every distant corner of my mind.
I can’t have him like this anymore, holding me from behind and groping at every inch of my skin while my cock is still out on display and flagging between my legs.