What I wouldn’t give to see his face in better light. See every ounce of need twisting and pinching his features. See the way his eyes glaze over and get heavy with each flick of my tongue. I want to watch his jaw relax and his chest heave as he gets closer—asIbring him closer. I want to look him in the eyeand watch him shatter. But most of all, I want him to see the way I take him so well, the way I so effortlessly make him come undone and give into what he said we couldn’t do.
Letting go of my hair, Ford grabs my head with both hands, holding it in place as he sinks his cock deep in my mouth again. He unleashes on me, in the exact way I knew he could. No hesitancy. No gentleness.
The way Ford ravages my mouth...
The way he stuffs my throat full...
The way his big, bouncy balls slap against my chin with each brutal snap of his hips...
It’s primal and raw and better than I could’ve imagined.
“F-fuck,” he sputters, fingertips digging into my scalp as he holds on to my head in a punishingly tight grip. “I’m, ungh… Fuck, I’m—” The words die in his throat as he lets out a sinful, guttural groan. His cock throbs against my tongue, and he bottoms out, holding my head in place as he spills down my throat. Swallowing, my muscles contract and squeeze his tip, making him moan, and as I bring my hands up to his thighs, I feel them wobble beneath my touch. Once he finishes, his hands drop from my head and he pulls out of my mouth, body melting against the tree trunk while I sit back and drag in lungfuls of air.
Wiping the spit off my chin after I’ve caught my breath, I watch Ford fumble with his sweats as he rights them around his waist. As the seconds pass, I can feel the tension growing thicker as I can practically hear his mind spinning. Which is why I’m not surprised when he steps away from the tree and looks down at me, hand rubbing over his mouth and along his jawline, before he leaves without a single word.
Like he’s fleeing the scene of a crime he committed in a moment of frenzied passion.
Huffing out a small chuckle, I stand up and adjust my raging erection before reaching for my cigarettes and lighter in my pocket. With my shoulder pressed against the side of the tree, where Ford’s back just was, I light up, inhaling the smoke slowly. The burn from my lungs as they fill up and the buzz the tobacco sends to my brain pales in comparison to the euphoria I felt mere minutes ago.
I already know once isn’t going to be enough.
Whether Ford wants to admit it or not, that’sdefinitelyhappening again.
And soon.
Thirteen
Ford
Bringing the bottle up to my lips, I tip my head back and let the chilled brew fill my mouth while the condensation drips onto my lap. With my line of sight hidden behind the dark sunglasses on my face, I can’t help but watch him…Hollis fucking Moore.
He’s sitting beside Remi on the picnic table directly across from me, wearing teal board shorts, still wet from the river, a pair of black slides, and a blackMoore Family Ranchhat sitting backwards on his head, with dark brown strands of hair on his nape peeking out from underneath the bill.No shirt.The half-empty bottle of tequila sits next to him, and he’s got a beer in his hand and a portable fan around his neck as his attention stays focused on his friend.
Why the fuck can’t I tear my gaze away?
Why am I suddenly noticing the littlest things about him?
Like the way his cheeks crease and his eyes squint as he throws his head back and chuckles at whatever Remi is saying.Or how the sound is infectious and oddly arousing.How the fuck can his laugh turn me on?
It’s been like this all goddamn day, and it’s becoming a problem.
After I ran away and left Hollis sitting in the woods last night, I climbed back into my tent and passed out as soon as my head hit the pillow. The full-body relaxation and utter exhaustion that settled in my bones from that mind-blowing orgasm was clearly strong enough to quiet my mind and stop my spiraling. At least, for the rest of the night. As soon as I peeled my eyes open this morning, everything—the messages, his realization, the blow job, the way it made me feel—came rushing back, hitting me like a ton of bricks. My dick was hard, my heart was pounding, and my mind was going a mile a minute.
All day, I’ve done my best to avoid Hollis, but he’s not making it easy. During breakfast, he came up beside me, and his arm brushed against mine when I was fixing myself a burrito. His smirk told me it wasn’t accidental. Then the group hiked down to the river to do some fishing, and while I managed to sit away from him, I could feel his gaze burning a hole through the side of my head the whole time. For the most part, I’ve been successful at dodging eye contact, and surprisingly, he hasn’t brought up last night, but none of that matters because, much to my chagrin, my body now seems to be in tune with his.
It’s infuriating.
Even when he’s not in my line of sight, I can sense when he’s near. The hair on the back of my neck stands up, my skin tingles, and goosebumps cover my arms. How can one quick, frenzied blow job leave this kind of effect on me? I don’t even know what to make of it. Nothing should’ve happened—that much I do know—but I can’t bring myself to regret it or wishit didn’t happen because it was… Well, it was the best damn blow job I’ve ever had.
I can say that confidently.
And that’s not to say my sex life has been boring or terrible before now, because it hasn’t. Communication in bed has never been something I’ve struggled with, and sex has always been important to me, been something that helps me feel connected. It’s something I enjoy, and not just the physical release, but the emotional aspect too. Theintimacy. I crave it. Learning their body while they learn mine. But last night, with Hollis… We didn’t need communication. He knew exactly what I needed before I even knew.
Andfuck me, the things his mouth can do. He swallowed me down like his life depended on it. Like he was attempting to suck the soul from my body. And hell, maybe he did. Maybe that’s why I can’t stop looking at him, or why my body thrums like a live wire any time he gets too close, or why the deep, rich sound of his laughter sends a rush of heat down my spine.
I fucked up.
I was weak.
