Page 128 of Victory at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 5)
Callum shudders again. He might be a monster, a beast, but he’s my dog of war, and he’s so very clearly leashed that he’s helpless to respond to my unbridled avarice. With another curse, Cal spits into his hand, slicking his cock with saliva and the clear pre-cum dripping from his tip.
I turn my head back toward the stone and then let it drop between my shoulders, closing my eyes so that I can focus on the feeling of Cal’s left hand on my hip, his thumb sliding over my opening again. He very gently pushes it inside, and I hiss at the mix of discomfort and pleasure. Once he works it in just a little further, the discomfort part of the scenario fades away and then it’s my turn to quiver and tremble under his touch.
“Fuck, this is tight,” Cal murmurs, and I wonder if he’s ever done this before, ever touched someone’s ass the way he’s caressing mine. The thought makes jealousy spike hot and angry through me, so I push it aside and ignore it. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to fit in here.”
A dark sound rolls past my prettily painted lips, and I swipe my tongue across the lower curve in anticipation as Callum switches his thumb out for two fingers. My toes curl inside my sneakers as he slides them in and out, nice and careful, slow, patient.
I want more.
“Do it, Cal. Fuck me.”
There’s no mistaking my words for anything other than what they are: a command.
He obeys like the good monster he is, withdrawing his hand and replacing it with his cock. I can feel the scorching heat of his tip as he presses his erection against my ass.
Oh, God, yes please.
Callum pushes himself inside of me with a grunt from both of us, and my eyes roll into the back of my head, lids fluttering at the sensation of being so full that I can’t breathe. Like I have to stop taking anymore breaths or there won’t be enough room inside of me for both his dick and the oxygen that I need to live. The thing is, both Callum and air both are requirements for my survival, so I hold my breath until my chest aches and he’s bottomed out completely.
Heat and pleasure spiral through me, collecting in my lower belly as my stomach muscles clench in anticipation of his movements. The only negative to this is that my pussy feels naked, empty, and I wish one of the other guys was here to help us out.
As if he can sense my needs—shit, he probably can—Cal curls his body forward, resting one of his own hands on the wall for balance as the other sneaks between my thighs, two fingers dipping into the molten slickness of my core while the heel of his hand grinds against the hardened nub of my clit.
My knees buckle right away, but Cal keeps me standing with the pressure of his hand on my cunt, holding me there while I tremble and gasp and try to blink through the sudden bursts of white fireworks in my vision.
It feels too fucking good, almost impossibly good, and I know I’m going to come from a single thrust or two. Maybe sooner. Cal adjusts his hips, the tight band of my ass squeezing the base of him so hard that he can barely move. Just that slight shift of his body throws me fully into my climax and a deep, primal groan breaks from my own throat as I sag under him, held up by his fingers inside of me and the rough press of my palms on the stone wall.
The orgasm is lightning fast, a brief overall flicker that makes my pussy clench and ripple around Cal’s fingers as he moans along with me.
“I can feel my own hand,” he whispers as I pant and shake and wonder how the hell I’m going to make it back to our apartment without collapsing into one of the fancy flower beds along the way. “I can pleasure my own dick with my fingers.” He hooks his fingers inside of me as if to prove a point, and I bite my lower lip so hard that I taste copper.
This is what I needed right here, a moment of grounding, of pleasure mixed with pain, of my dark avenger with his hoodies and his shorts, his tattoos and his scars, his rough voice and his too pretty mouth. He begins to move, and I’m struck yet again by how obvious it is that he’s a dancer. He fights like a dancer, kills like a dancer, fucks like a dancer.
Lifting onto my toes gives us both a slightly better angle as I tremble beneath him with my sweats bunched around my knees, and my pussy dripping around his fingers. He rocks his hips against me, rather than thrusting like he might in my cunt. It’s just perfect the way he does that, grinding pleasure into a part of me that’s rarely touched but is now suddenly desperate for more, more, more.
