Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 80643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
I’m being given access to a part of him he doesn’t always share, but he really seems to enjoy sharing it with me.
His hand comes down to the base of his cock, gripping tight for a moment, and then he pauses.
“Thanks for humoring me,” he says. His eyes look beautiful like this, in that almost intoxicated, spell-dazzled way.
“Is that what you think I’m doing?”
He starts stroking himself again, a little faster, now. “You saying it’s more than that?”
“Depends what you mean by more.”
“Fucking… answer me,” he pleads, and his raspy, low whiny tone is more catnip to me.
Why do I like you needy?
“Maybe I just enjoy the idea of watching you come for me,” I tell him. “Knowing you’re going to come so much harder because it’s me between your legs—”
“Not true,” he utters, but I see another bead of precum leak from his tip at the same time.
“I know when you’re lying, Noah,” I murmur.
He lets out a slow breath, a slight flush reaching his cheeks again. “Of course you do.”
I squeeze his thigh.
“Torin,” he whispers. “Already close.”
I look from his eyes down to his shaft and I see the muscles in his body start to tense up. He has freckles on random areas, like a few on his lower stomach and a little constellation right at the top of one thigh.
I bring my tongue to his tip as he strokes, and his eyes widen.
“Let me taste you,” I tell him.
“Oh, fuck,” he utters, his voice sounding completely gone.
He keeps stroking the lower part of his dick as I take his tip past my lips, sucking his cock head.
Something very greedy rears inside me, and after I’ve been given an inch I want to take a thousand more fucking miles.
“I want you like this,” I tell him as I pull off for a moment, my lips still so close to his cock that they brush against it as I speak. “When we’re on summer vacation with your family, or back at your house, or out in the middle of the goddamn quad, would you give me your cock if I asked, Noah?”
“Nope,” he whispers, but there’s no bite in his tone. He’s practically breathless. “You’re never getting this again.”
“You’re not going to want it too bad, and get all needy every time you see me?”
He groans deeply, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment while he grips hard around his dick. “I won’t. So keep dreaming,” he says. “This is all you’re ever getting.”
“I see,” I tell him. “Then I guess this is the only time you’ll get to have my tongue.”
“Fuck.”
I dip lower onto him, lapping my tongue around the ridge of his cock, alternating between sucking hard and easing up the pressure.
And then I pull off again.
Edging him.
“Promise you’ll think of me, every time you get off,” I murmur. “You’re going to touch yourself remembering this, aren’t you?”
When he looks down to meet my eyes again, all I see is full surrender.
“Need to come,” he utters.
It’s not an answer to my question, but it feels like one.
He can’t even toy with the idea of looking at my eyes and telling me the actual answer without being pushed to the brink.
I wrap my lips around his cock and it’s only a few more moments before he loses control.
His hips buck upward into me, over and over, like someone who’s been denied for a century. I keep my mouth on him as he comes, moaning low as he shoots onto my tongue and the back of my throat.
I don’t move an inch, taking him through his whole orgasm as his body goes from being fully tensed to relaxing again.
I swallow around him, and I wait.
I only pull off gently when I feel him pulse a couple more times and then start to get soft inside me.
He’s completely wrecked.
He’s lying back on his pillow, breathing heavily, probably nowhere near being able to form words right now.
A minute later his hand comes down to land on the back of my shoulder, rubbing my skin softly for a moment before he moves it away.
“Sorry,” he whispers.
He looks like he’s fighting sleep already.
He’s looking at me with that dazed, hypnotized expression.
Something urgent kicks inside my chest as I’m looking at the flecks in his eyes, now, like reality catching up to me at ten miles a minute.
I start to feel hyper aware of the fact that I’m in his territory, his room. I glance around and see all of the Crimson College memorabilia, the suit he has hanging on the back of his door, and a few of my wooden espresso mugs he has sitting on his desk.
He was… so good.
But he is right.
This definitely shouldn’t have happened.
The urge to leave is very real.
It’s not that I feel some need to escape his presence, but there’s a strong sense that this isn’t where I belong.