Page 27 of Blurred Boundaries

He takes his time, alternating between sucking and stroking, never settling on one for too long. It drives me out of my mind. His saliva mixes with the precum leaking from my slit, making the glide of his mouth and the strokes of his hand effortless. I want to grab his dreadlocks, hold his head there, and fuck his mouth like my body is urging me to . . . but I hold myself back. I let him have his fun. I didn’t know I was into edging—then again, I guess I’d be into anything Mike wants from me.

“Are you gonna let me come?” I whine when he stops sucking me off and starts stroking me again.

“Do you wanna come?” he asks, and the bastard’s tone is so calm.

“What do you think?” I scowl, but it turns into a hiss when he squeezes my cock.

“You’re still mouthing off,” he chuckles and then stops all together.

“Miiiiiiiike,” I whine again.

He moves up my body, his mouth finding my neck, and he sucks hard on the skin there. “Yes, Taj,” he says into my skin and the feel of his breath against me sends a shudder running down to my toes.

I’m almost delirious, my cock is throbbing, pulsing and aching with the need for release. And yet, there’s a part of me that wants Mike to keep sucking my neck.

“Make me come, please,” I beg, voice strained now, barely holding together.

“Since you ask so nicely,” he concedes, and this time there’s a hint of roughness in his voice that wasn’t there before.

In the next second, he’s lowering himself on my cock. The moment he takes me in without resistance, my question about whether he’s prepped or not dies in my throat. He sinks down until his arse meets my hips.

“Fuck!” he moans.

“You okay? Are you hurt?” I ask immediately.

“Fuck, no,” he says breathlessly. “I fucking love your cock.”

I grin, all my earlier worries disappearing just like that. “Then start bouncing on it.”

He chuckles under his breath, muttering, “Little shit,” but doing it anyway, shifting his weight and starting to move. Whatever reply I had disappears.

I forget my thoughts entirely, only capable of watching him now, watching the way his face fills with ecstasy as he rides me. His rhythm is unhurried at first, like he’s taking his time with it, and then it starts to pick up, and my body is singing with the sheer pleasure of it.

I still can’t look away from him. I don’t even want to blink in case I miss something. Every little thing he does etches itself into my brain, from the way his lips part, to the way his brows pull together, and the way he breathes my name without even realising it.

He lowers his head and claims my mouth in a kiss that is so scorching, it steals the air from my lungs. I kiss him back just as hard, just as needy, because at this point there’s no separation between what I feel and what I want. I’ve never experienced sex the way I have with Mike. Everything feels heightened, like every nerve in my body has been turned all the way up, every pleasure intense. And when my orgasm crashes into me, I almost levitate from the bed.

I fill Mike’s arse with my cum, my release weakening my bones, and I feel weightless. But he doesn’t stop, he keeps riding me through it, chasing his own high.

“Taj,” he moans, biting down hard on my lower lip, I’m sure it’ll leave a mark.

He comes with a shudder running through him, his whole body shaking against mine, his breath stuttering as his cum lands on my chest.

We’re both breathing heavily, the air thick with the smell of sex. My head is still spinning, my body slowly coming back into itself. When he finally lifts his head up, his pupils are blown wide, and the post-orgasmic look on his face is so goddamn erotic, I’m ready to go again.

I thought I was in trouble when I met him, but now I know I’m completely doomed.

18

MICHAEL

—Evermore by Hollow Coves

The way Taj has me wrapped around his fingers should probably be studied. Preferably by people smarter than me who can explain why I keep agreeing to ideas that I know are terrible even as I’m saying yes to them.

I can’t believe it’s already May. Today is the last lecture before exam season kicks in, which means I should at least pretend to be a respectable adult in front of my students. Instead, I am standing at the front of the room trying to remember how to be a normal person. Because after we went two rounds before sleeping yesterday, Taj asked me to wear the butt plug to class. He wanted to see how composed I could remain when he turned it on while I was teaching.

It must have been my orgasm-addled brain that agreed—because why else would I now be here, standing in front of about fifty students with a plug between my cheeks?