He bites his lip, nodding as much as he can with my hand still fisted in his hair.
“You want my cum, baby boy? Want me to bust all over that pretty little tongue of yours?”
The whimper that comes out of him has my cock throbbing.
“Answer me.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“I want your cum.Please.”
My free hand comes up, thumb grazing over his plump bottom lip, before shoving inside. He closes his lips immediately, sucking my thumb as if it were my cock, eyes falling closed, and moaning.
“You’re a greedy boy, Crew. You want my cum that bad?”
Still sucking my thumb, he nods, dark, heavy eyes meeting mine again.
“Fine. I’ll give you what you want,” I say, pulling his jaw down with my thumb. “But you aren’t allowed to swallow until I say so. Understood?”
He can’t talk with the way I’m holding his jaw, but he nods his understanding.
“Stick out your tongue and get your reward.”
The wet, pink tongue comes out eagerly as his fuck-me eyes beg me for my release. His face is flushed, sweat lining his forehead. He’s never looked sexier than he does at this moment.
My fist wraps around my cock, stroking firmly from base to tip. Pre-cum is gathered at the tip, my thumb swiping across it before down back stroking. The sight of Crew on his knees before me, looking all kinds of just fucked, with his tongue sticking out, waiting for my load, is filthy and wicked, and the hottest fantasy come to life.
There’s no way I’m lasting more than a few more strokes.
My hand pumps my cock faster, hips rocking forward to meet my fist, all movement becoming erratic. “Ready to be painted in my cum, like a fucking slut?”
He moans, eyes closing, tongue still sticking out, as a tornado of pleasure rips through my body. Hot, thick spurts of cum shoot onto his tongue, coating his lips.
His eyes open with a new light, gazing at me as his mouth closes. I grip his chin with my thumb and pointer finger, raising my brow at him as I kneel down next to him. “Show me,” I growl.
A mischievous smirk spreads on his face as he opens up, showing me his tongue coated in my release. The sight has a heavy sense of pride inflating in my chest. My fingers drift down to rub on either side of his throat, my face coming to nuzzle against his neck, tongue flicking out to lick his ear. “What a good boy. Swallow for me.”
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows me down, and I feel the movement against my face. My hand closes around his throat, pulling him up to his feet, mouth crashing down on his. When my tongue thrusts between his lips, I can’t help the groan that comes from tasting myself on him.
Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t get enough of Crew.
I’m in deep.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Crew
There’s nothing quite like that first line when I’m practically sober in the mornings, no poison running through my bloodstream yet. Nothing beats rolling up the bill and snorting that glorious white powder into my brain.
The smell. The taste. The burn. Even the drip down the back of my throat. It’s fucking euphoric. The way my nerves tingle. The way my body feels like it’s flying. Like I could take on the world. Like there’s not a single care or concern. All problems previously worried about mean nothing. My mind goes numb. My body relaxes. My pulse kicks up. There’s nothing fucking like it.
This is what I’m fantasizing about as I’m getting out of the shower at Anderson’s this morning. We’ve been taking turns which house we sleep at, and last night we decided on his place. Since the incident in his bedroom where I came clean about Kalen, we’ve been attached at the hip. Well… camemostlyclean. It’s seven-thirty in the morning, and I’m in the bathroom, staring at my pathetic reflection. My head hurts, I’m shaky, and I’m feeling a little nauseous. Gaunt, dark circles paint the skin under my eyes, I have a perpetual runny nose, and my pale, lifeless skin is a little clammy, despite just cleaning myself.
Anderson is passed out in his bed. Oblivious to the low life a few feet away behind a locked door. Ignorant to the many times I’ve slipped away unnoticed into a bathroom or a separate room to swallow a mouthful of pills or snort a line or two.
My mind always travels back to Anderson in moments like this. The look on his face when he eventually realizes I’m not who he thinks I am. It’s going to crush his soul. I know I’m letting him down. Disappointing him. Hurting him. And if I was a stronger man, I’d cut it all out, but I’m not.