Page 54 of Puck the Coach's Son
I make the sound again.
“Yeah. That's it.”
“You like my hand on you.”
His thumb drags wet across the head of me.
“Say it.”
“I like your hand on me.”
His teeth catch my earlobe.
“Whose is this?”
“What?”
“This cock. Whose?”
His fist squeezes at the base of me.
“Yours.”
“Say it again.”
His hand slides slower over me, harder.
“Yours.”
“Good fucking boy.”
His fist tightens on me.
“I'm going to make you come in about thirty seconds and you're going to thank me for it.”
“Yes.”
His hand speeds up.
“Say thank you now.”
“Thank you.”
His breath is hot against my jaw.
“Thank you, what?”
“Thank you, Maddox.”
His mouth bites down at the muscle where my neck meets my shoulder.
“Louder.”
I say it louder.
“Let me hear you when you come. All of it. I don't care who in this building hears. Do you understand me?”
I let him hear me.
