Page 72 of Rush

He moans hard, head falling back—when I take him deeper. Harder. My throat closes around him. I gag. He throbs.

He likes it.

I gag again, twisting my hands opposite ways as I work him, my spit running slick down his length. He tastes fucking incredible.

“Oh, fuck, El…”

I take my time—watching him spiral, feeling every taut muscle, every ounce of restraint snapping beneath my touch.

His cries of pleasure turn ragged, desperate, as he climbs toward the edge. I know he’s close—pulsing hard in my mouth.

It feels so good, watching something so simple bring someone likehimto heel. All that smugness, that cocky bravado—gone.

“I’m gonna—fuck, baby I’m gonna come,” he gasps, squirming under me, his voice wrecked.

I hum around him again, cupping his balls, tugging on them ever so gently, swallowing him down as he spills into the back of my throat—his whole body seizing and jerking as he rides out his climax.

He grabs my hair, breath hitching as I suck him dry, indulging in every last drop, until he’s twitching, and breathless.

I finally pull off, wiping the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand.

“Good.”

He collapses in a heap of muscle on the bench, arms slack, chest rising and falling hard.

The sight of it—him—destroyed like that, subdued and spent—it’s wickedly satisfying.

I lean against his thigh as I trace his skin.

For a moment, the only sound is our breathing. Then?—

Softly.

The TV drones in the background.

“Broderick?” I say, breaking the silence.

“Hmm?”

I blink, staring at the screen behind him.

“You…watch the news when you work out?”

He glances over his shoulder, then back at me.

And we both burst out laughing—loud, breathless, like we hadn’t just done something completely unholy.

Reality crashes down in an instant—post-nut clarity.

Broderick’s still sprawled on the bench.

I jump to my feet, grabbing one of the neatly folded towels from the counter.

“Anyway, that was…um, fun. I’ll, uh, talk to you later,” I blurt, heat creeping up my face.

“El—wait. Where are you going?”

“I’ve got…laundry to do.”