Page 149 of Tempting Venom
When I open them again, Preston’s watching me withparted lips, his grip on my throat loosening, and I can’t help the smirk that lifts the corner of my mouth.
“Seems like you missed me, baby.”
“In your dreams.”
“I don’t need dreams when…” I rub my awakening cock against his growing bulge. “Your dick is so excited to see me. Mmm, you’re getting so hard so fast.”
“Shut—”
His words are cut off when I pull him to the side, then shove him inside the small storage room that also doubles as a locker room.
Some brooms and cleaning supplies fall to the floor as we crowd the space. It’s kind of tiny, especially for two tall, bulky hockey guys.
But it’sexactlywhat I need.
I slam Preston’s front against the door, and it nearly rattles off its hinges as I stand behind him, and whisper in his ear, “Hands on the door, ass in the air.”
His lips tremble, and I expect him to fight it since it’s been a while, but he slowly slides his palms up and bends forward until his ass is up.
A gruff noise rips out of my throat. “You can be such a good boy sometimes.”
I help him remove his coat and then throw it on a bench somewhere behind me.
Preston goes back to the same position, watching me with that expression of fascinated expectation.
The one he wears when he knows our bodies are on the verge of colliding in something dangerously sensual.
As if, like me, he’s also been having withdrawals.
As if, like me, he hasn’t been able to look at other people, let alone fuck them.
No matter how often I touch him, the thrill never dulls. If anything, the temptation only doubles, and I feel like I’m floating too close to the sun. It might burn, but it’ll feel good as well.
“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice huskier, his eyes wider.
“What do you think?” I reach to his front and unbutton his jeans, then pull them and his boxer briefs down until they’re pooling at his ankles.
My cock throbs at the view of his ass, so smooth and round and, tragically, not covered with my marks.
The prospect of adding them sends a jolt of morbid anticipation down my spine.
Have I ever been this excited about fucking? No—no, I haven’t.
There’s just something about Preston Armstrong that pulls out the monster in me.
I stroke his ass in a circular motion as I tip close and murmur, my breath brushing his ear, “Mmm. I missed this.”
He squirms.
Slap.
A sharp groan rips out of him. “Fuuuck.”
“You seem to have missed these hands, baby.”
Slap.
He moans deeply, and just like that, he relaxes under my grip, softening for me, letting me do whatever the fuck I please.
