Page 18 of Edged
“None of your business,” I said.
“How long are you here for?”
He squeezed the tip of my cock in his fist, drawing a needy and strained moan from the back of my throat.
“Why does it matter?” I choked the question out, still trying to decide how much of a pushover it would make me to let Archer make me come for a second time. “Worried about running into me if it’syourcock down someone’s throat?”
“I don’t care if you get off on watching other men make me come, Owen.”
“That’s not…” I shook my head, grunting in annoyance.
He was such an asshole.
Such a fucking prick.
“I’m here until Sunday,” I told him.
“Good.”
“Good because I’ll be out of your hair soon?”
I was still hard, still hot in his hand. I didn’t think there was much cum left in my body but Archer hadn’t fucking stopped touching me since he’d gotten his hand down my pants. He stroked me like it was a leisurely activity and we had all the time in the world to get off, not like we were against a dark wall in a Los Angeles alley, in the back of a BDSM club.
“Just good,” he murmured, dragging his nose from my ear toward my mouth. His lips hovered over mine, breath ghosting out across my lips, my cheek, my chin. I angled my face toward the sky to get away from him, to get some air, even though there was none.
Archer was a fucking black hole, sucking up everything that dared to get close. I’d already done it once. There was no way I’d make the same mistake a second time. I couldn’t do that to my sister—Iwouldn’tdo that to myself.
“Do you have another one in the tank, Owen?” Archer asked, smiling against my mouth, hand still twisting up my shaft with every breath.
“Not for you.”
He made an amused sound, then he did the last thing I expected.
He licked me. From my throat to the point of my chin, all of it exposed and on display for him in my attempt to avoid his eyes. It had never been his eyes that were the problem, though. It was always his mouth, the things he did with it, the words he said, the fucking lies he told. Archer nipped my chin between his teeth and groaned, pressing our bodies together and finally stilling his hand.
“No?” he asked.
“No.”
Another noise from him, this one sounding more like reluctant concession. After that, he moved efficiently and methodically. Archer’s fingers unwound from my traitorously hard cock and he shuffled away. Not far, but enough to put space between us for him to tuck my cock back into my pants where he’d found it. He zipped me up, managed the button on the first try, then reached for my chin, tugging my head down and waiting for me to look at him.
I knew he wouldn’t leave until I did, and my legs hadn’t stopped shaking since I’d gotten to the club in the first place. I didn’t know how much strength—or willpower—I had left in me. So, I squared my shoulders as best I could manage, the attempt at posturing so performative it almost made me laugh at myself, and I let my stare fall toward his face.
Archer looked wild. His eyes were hooded and dark, his lips parted and wet with spit. His stare dragged over my face like fingertips, desperately searching for more consent than I’d verbally offered up. The heavy want in his face barely faltering when recognition dawned he wouldn’t get what he was after. The way Archer studied me was familiar, in good ways and bad, in ways that I didn’t want to walk away from even though I wanted to walk away from him.
I closed my eyes, dropping the back of my head against the wall.
“Understood, Owen, but one more thing before I go.”
It was hardly a question, and in reply I forced myself to focus on him one more time.
He reached for my mouth, with his cum-sticky fingers and tapped the tip of his first finger against my lips, pressing in just enough to curl around my bottom teeth and pull my mouth open. I was ready to bite his finger off when, with his other hand, he placed something between my teeth and I instead closed down around that.
The snap of my teeth drew a growl out of him, and he stepped back a few paces until he was once again under the bright wash of the security light. He smeared my cum across his mouth, holding my stare while he licked himself clean, and then backed up again, again, again, until he reached the parking lot and disappeared into the dark.
I didn’t know when I’d stopped breathing, but once he was out of sight, I fell forward, knees digging into the gravel and dirt of the alley before my lungs even had a chance to fill again. Whatever he’d put into my mouth fell out, and I recognized the shape as a business card, which I picked up with shaky hands.
Upon closer inspection, I realized the card was a clean white with his name and phone number centered on the card in crisp black lettering, raised off the page.
