Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
This was that crossroad moment I’d sensed earlier. No coming back.
No second-guessing, either.
I listened to him, trusting that the table would hold both our weight. I got on my knees and lined myself up with Miles. His hole was already worked and relaxed, ready to take me. I gave my cock a couple of wet strokes, getting myself lubed up with precum, before pressing up against his entrance. I gripped his hips and—as badly as I wanted to bury myself inside him with one thrust—slowly sank inside.
“Ooohh fuck,” we both hissed out in unison as Miles took me in.
The heat was intense, the tightness was perfect, his softness was velvet.
But the closeness I felt with him in that moment superseded everything else.
I took my time, inch by inch. Asking if he was okay, encouraged by him saying that he was more than fine. Still, I didn’t want to hurt him. I also didn’t want this to be over too soon. And judging by how close I already was, that wish would be the hardest to accomplish.
Being around Miles was a constant edging experience. The second I’d scent him across the room, my thoughts would home in on picturing this very moment. I’d stand there in practice or in the training room, feeling my balls becoming full from just the very idea of fucking him. I was a vers so I was a Swiss Army knife in the bedroom. I wanted him to fuck me eventually, but I’d be lying if I wasn’t looking forward to this the most.
I increased my speed when I was sure it was pleasurable for him and not painful. We found a rhythm together. I glided in and out of him, my balls tightening. He jerked himself off, encouraging me to fuck him harder, his words almost drowned out by the sound of my skin slapping against his.
I drilled into him. The table shook with each thrust but didn’t seem in danger of collapsing. A popular but older alternative pop song played through the speakers. Lyrics I wasn’t able to focus on. I could feel my body being pushed to the edge of the cliff. I wanted to breed him. Wanted to fill him up with my cum.
“I’m getting close,” I warned. There was no holding this one back. No prolonging it.
“So am I. Holy fuck. Right there.”
“Where do you want me to come?” I asked. Decadent licks of flame expanded inside my core. I was seconds away from finishing.
Miles dropped his head. “Inside me,” he moaned. “Come inside me.”
I fucked him harder, thrust into him, buried down to my balls. His inner walls pulsed and tightened around me as he came all over the table, his back arching even further and his free hand gripping the edge of the table, knuckles pale.
Leaning forward with a shout, I emptied inside him. His body continued to milk me as his orgasm crashed with mine. A tidal wave of pleasure washed over me, putting out the fires that had been working hard to turn me to ash.
I rested my head between Miles’ shoulders, our breaths ragged. My thoughts were blissed the fuck out. I kissed the back of his neck. He gave me another little moan.
“Best massage ever,” he said underneath me.
I laughed at that. “Leave me five stars on Yelp.”
“What should I say in my review? That you left me feeling extra relaxed?”
“And that I gave you the full-body experience.” I wiggled my hips playfully, my swollen dick still inside him.
“Cool. I’ll write that up then.”
I laughed again and slowly pulled out. Immediately, I missed the connection—the instant bond I felt penetrating him for the first time. I didn’t want to think too hard about it.
Miles got off the table and I realized I hadn’t even massaged his front. “I’m a dumbass, I didn’t even flip you over. You can knock a star off for that.”
“You didn’t have to flip me over to get five stars, Dyl.”
He had a loose grin on his face. His hazel-green eyes slightly glazed over, just like mine most likely were. He opened the drawer and pulled out a long towel. “You can clean up and shower if you want.”
I didn’t get much on me. I also started to wonder if maybe this was his way of telling me it was time to go. Could he have gotten some post-nut clarity and realized he had wanted to go a different direction? I started to second-guess myself. That was usually when I became my own worst enemy—when anxiety started driving the train instead of logic and optimism.
I toweled myself down as Miles pulled off the sheet around his massage table. “I’m going to throw these in the wash.” He disappeared into the hall. I sighed. How could I be feeling on top of the world one moment and about to be crushed by the weight of it the next?