WHIT
“Tomorrow, we are going on the ATVs. Just wanted to warn you,” Caleb tells me, and I can’t help but shudder at the thought.
Today in that truck wasawful. All that mess, but if I’m being honest, being with Caleb is…I can’t think about it. I don’t know what I’m doing with him.
I always promised myself I’d never be with a straight guy again, but I can’t quite seem to get rid of him.
This is a recipe for heartbreak.
“I’ll stay back and help your aunt cook dinner,” I tell Caleb, threading my fingers through his hair, and he almost purrs against me.
He’s a big guy, muscular and tall, and he nearly crushes me when he crawls on top of me, but I…well,likeit is one word for it.
“Loser,” he mutters into my neck. “You’re coming with me, or we’ll drag you out there.”
“Please don’t,” I say.
He lifts his head, and our eyes meet. Those blue eyes twinkle. “You begging, baby.”
The term of endearment slips out of his mouth, and I feel my cheeks heating. I’ve never blushed so much in my adult life.
But I like how that word sounds coming from him.
“I never beg,” I say.
“I bet,” he mutters and then arches his hips into mine, his cock dragging against me. It's delicious in the worst possible way.
“I have no problem begging,” he adds, licking those full lips of his. “I’m a complete slut, apparently.”
He’s good-looking in a rugged way.He’s not my type at all. I like petite men, pretty men.Caleb is not pretty or petite. Not at all. No, it’s worse.He’s sex. All consuming sex.
What am I even doing? I cannot be entertaining this. There is too much waiting for me once this year is up. I can’t start something with a guy who is totally wrong for me.
He doesn’t recycle. He packs his clothes in plastic bags.
His clothes are stained and wrinkled.
He has a nipple piercing.
There’s a good chance he’d want me to bend over for him, and I never do that.
No, I’m always in control. I like to be the one fucking.
I’d never give anyone so much power over me.
I need to end this, put a stop to it.
But instead of doing what I should, I say, “Roll over.”
He does as I ask, and I’m on him, pulling those pants down, pulling out his enormous cock, and stroking him.
He makes the most delicious noises when he’s turned on. Whimpering, moaning, saying my name. It’s addictive.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” I tell him, my hand twisting up and over his drooling head.
“Fuck that. Why stop when this feels so good,” he replies, panting.
He’s lasting longer than before, and my cock is straining against my pajama pants. This whole weekend has been torture. I should pull myself out and find relief too.