Page 30 of Edged
Archer grimaced, rolling the condom down his length before returning to his place between my thighs.
“Always like this,” he said under his breath, the head of his cock breaching my hole again. The burn and the stretch felt the same, and when the tip of his cock dragged past my prostate, I whimpered, fingers scrabbling at the carpet above my head.
“Like what?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Archer bottomed out and went still, throwing his head back in what I assumed was pleasure. I hoped it was pleasure, but I also wanted it to hurt him a little. I’d hurt so much for him, a little denial couldn’t have been a bad thing for him to deal with. At least for a little while.
I realized then, in those moments of stillness, Archer was anything but still. His hands around my waist trembled and the vein in his neck pulsed frantically. Was his heart beating that fast? Was he bothered or overcome by the things we were doing together? I didn’t want to ask and there were parts of me that didn’t want to know. Archer’s lower lip quivered, and he rolled his head around, cracking it once before refocusing his attention on my face.
“You still with me?” I whispered.
The corner of his upper lip twitched, and he answered with a rough drag and snap of his hips.
“I wish I could put your cock in a cage,” he said. “Tease you so you couldn’t get hard, so this thick, gorgeous cock of yours had nowhere to go.”
My lashes fluttered and I shifted my arms to my front so I could get a manageable grip on my dick.
“What else?” I asked.
“A thousand things.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Tell me.”
I didn’t understand why I said that. I didn’t want to know, because every word from Archer’s mouth was a lie, a promise of a future that didn’t belong to either of us. It wasn’t even worth pretending. My mind served me with a flashback I’d never asked for. A memory that I’d buried so deep I was surprised it still existed. A fantasy, the first real one I’d ever had, leaning against Mandy’s bedroom door and listening to him talk to her while he fingered her cunt. The things he said made my cock so hard I could have broken down her door frame with it, and I’d pretended he’d been talking to me.
He knew that now.
The day he graduated college, I’d written him a letter, confessing my feelings for him. It had been cowardly of me to do it in writing instead of face to face, but it had all come to a head for us that night, anyway. When I’d confessed to him my darkest secrets and my truest fantasies.
“You don’t want me to tell you,” he said, finally setting a pace with his hips that had me thinking I’d be able to get off whether he wanted me to or not. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is I’m not done with you yet…with your body.”
It sounded like a correction, but…
“Then stop pushing your cock against my prostate,” I snapped, frustrated and horny, and very fucking confused about the other feelings circling in my head and in my chest.
“Fine.” He pulled out again, shooting a smug glare down at me, and then his fingers were inside me. Easily two fingers, possibly three. And he searched out my prostate like his fingertips were polarized to find it, and within seconds I knew I’d made a mistake.
Archer’s fingers inside of me were far more dangerous than his cock, and with one hand inside of me and his other hand loosely circled around my cock, Archer manipulated me toward what felt like the physicality of an orgasm.
“Look at me,” he said.
It sounded like a warning, so I searched out his stare.
Earlier where he’d looked lost with arousal was a sharp contrast to the man above me now. I’d never seen a man look like he didn’t care about coming, but Archer looked like he’d be content to torture me for the rest of the night and then drop me off at the airport with an unsatisfied cock and throbbing balls.
He said something again under his breath that I couldn’t catch, and then cum spurted out of my cock. My body tingled with the tease of an orgasm, and as soon as it had started, it was gone. Archer pulled his hands away from me and grinned down, one eyebrow angled upward as my dick emptied itself like a fountain.
All of the work with none of the reward.
My entire spine arched off the floor and I cried out, thrashing around beneath him like if I could find the right way to move, my body would reward me with the feeling I’d been chasing after, but to no avail.
When my dick finally settled down, Archer dipped his head low and sucked me into his mouth. I cried out again, a pathetic and cracking noise that echoed off the walls of the hotel room. Archer wasn’t sucking my cock for either of our pleasure, though. He used his tongue and his mouth to clean me up, make me hard again, and then he let my cock land against my stomach with a wet plop.
“One for you and one for me,” he said.
“I’d hardly call those comparable.”
