Page 115 of Himbo Hitman
My thighs are locked up as I fuck into my fist and keep trying to press back onto him. My body has taken on a mind of its own. I’m so horny, so desperate, and his deep grunt by my ear makes me want to draw that sound from him again and again.
The pleasure is building deep in my gut, and I’m convinced I can take him. And if I can’t? Who the fuck cares. At least then, this desperate need would be filled, and I wouldn’t feel like I’m going out of my goddamn mind.
My forearm is getting tight, but I don’t stop touching myself. Don’t stop pulling that high from where it’s tingling at the base of my spine.
“Please, St. Clare …” I pant. “Please.”
“Such a greedy little hole.” He groans, and not even a second later, he floods my lower back with his cum. It’s deliriously hot, and as he rubs the head of his cock against my ass cheeks, making me sticky with it, I finally let loose.
Rope after rope fills my palm as my blood sizzles with the satisfaction of my orgasm. I groan my way through it, not giving a fuck if I wake Lars because goddamn, the world should know how good St. Clare is at sex.
As long as he’s only having it with me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
ST. CLARE
Perry tugs up his pants,then turns and slumps against the tree trunk before sliding down it to land on his ass. Before I can suggest getting him cleaned up, he pats the place beside himself.
His cheeks are flushed, and the way he looks at me makes it difficult to meet his eye.
“That was new.”
“For you,” I point out.
Perry gets this cute little frown that shouldn’t be cute or little for a guy with a presence as chaotically large as his. “You don’t need to be thinking of all those other times. This was new for us. And honestly, I’d kind of like to make a habit of it. Maybe it can be our new morning ritual.”
Theusthing throws me as well. Sure, I want to do that again. I didn’t make a secret of it with how much we talked about me fucking him one day, but I don’t think we’re at the level of talking it out casually yet.
“What’s your favorite sex position?”
Or maybe we are. “They’re all good.”
“I think I’d like to try riding you.”
My brain checks out for a second. “You what?”
“Yeah, well, I love being ridden. Looking up at all of … that. It’s hot. I’m curious about how it feels the other way around.”
“You want to sit on my cock?”
“Sure.”
Once again, I still don’t know what to make of Perry. “You’re interesting.”
“Me?”
“No. Sweet, open guys regularly wander into a life of crime. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
He picks up a twig with his good hand and taps it against the ground. “I think you’re interesting too.”
I take a minute to think that over. Outside of the club, I don’t think I do all that much. I’m not interesting. I don’t have fun little “things” about me that are interesting to find out. I work a lot, I drink a lot of coffee, I’m a sucker for a guy with pretty eyes and a big smile, and I still share an apartment with my best friend. “Tell me more.”
“Well, I never know what you’re going to say half of the time?—”
“Likewise.” In fact, more with Perry because he’s never on the same wavelength as the rest of us.
“But whatever you say, I dunno, it usually makes me feel good. I like when you talk.”
