Page 76 of The Storm

Somewhere outside of the boat shed a bird sings, and this is impossibly absurd, and I want to cry because the head of my cock is so sensitive, and he’s not doinganything.

“Have you ever done this before?” he asks. He moves his finger in my ass like he thinks I might need clarification on what he’s asking about.

I try to form words. Even just letters.

I end up only managing a shake of my head.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He leans forward and kisses my hip bone, and it’s so unexpectedly sweet and soft that my brain is having a very hard time computing all those different sensations.

“I could make you come so hard it’ll be all you can think about,” he says.

His voice and his words make me arch into him. I’m shamelessly begging. Shoving my dick in his face.

Please, please, please, please, please.

He wraps his lips around me and starts going down. Lower, lower, lower. Slowly. Lower still. And all the while he sucks.

His finger brushes against that spot inside me, and suddenly all I see is sparks.

I’m coming. I’m coming harder than I’ve ever come before. Sparks up my spine and in my brain. Moaning. Bending over him, my cock jerking against his tongue. Spurting.

I slump against the wall, watching Nick with a dazed look as he gets to his feet, shoves his hand into his own shorts, and starts jerking himself, and somehow the fact that I can’t see it, that the only thing I can see is the furious movement of his hand is really fucking hot. Hot enough to make my spent dick twitch.

His eyes roam over me. The expression on his face… It’s difficult to describe it as anything other than greedy. The tight control from before is gone, replaced by need.

His eyes fall on my mouth.

And then he groans and moves forward. His arm lands next to my head, and he comes with a low, guttural groan.

We stay like that. Both panting. Both fucked.

I look down at my cock. It’s slick with Nick’s spit and my cum. Soft between my legs. My shorts are pooled around my ankles.

The aftermath is wobbly. I slide out from underneath his arm and fumble with my shorts to get them up. When I’m done I watch him do the same, and I can’t not zero in on his fingers while he pulls up his shorts and slides his palm over the front of his shirt because there are his hands. The hands with the fingers that have been inside me. There’s nobody else in the world who can claim that. Just him.

I can still feel them in my ass.

My stomach jolts.

“I…” I’ve got nothing. No idea what to say. “I have to go.”

I grab my shirt and make a run for it.

EIGHTEEN

INDY

I go into the bathroom,turn the shower on as hot as it goes, and step under the spray. My heart’s still jackhammering in my chest.

I rest my forehead against the wall and let hot water beat down on my back.

Fucking hell.

Fucking,fuckinghell.

Water runs over my hair and my eyelashes.

This is much more difficult to rationalize than the last time. The last time we had sex at least there was a tornado to take my mind off the possible consequences. Now there’s no impending catastrophe waiting in the wings, so I’m suddenly faced with all my decisions and choices.