My trembling breath twirls past my parted lips, and I clutch his hoodie at his sides, wringing and creasing the fabric.
He rocks harder against me, then tosses the stick aside and wraps his hand around my throat. “Say it.”
“I’m a good boy.”
Shifting, he keeps me pinned to the floor while ripping my pants open and fisting my weeping dick. This is it. I could tear off his mask and find out who he is once and for all, but my eyes roll back when his calloused hand slides over my length, from root to tip and back down. I crane my neck, raking my teeth over my bloodied lip, losing myself in a dangerous fantasy.
“Such a good fucking boy, huh?” His words are cruel and cold, yet heated, dripping with something…all too familiar.
Cole…
Images of him laughing on the football field with his helmet balanced under his tanned arm, covered in sweat as Samson ruffles his already mussed-up hair, flash through my mind—the feel of his warm chest against my arm when he brushes past me in the kitchen doorway, his eyes burning into mine for a split second before he’s gone again.
I bite my lip hard enough to hurt, needing the pain to settle my throbbing heart, thrusting into my tormentor’s next stroke.
A ragged breath cuts me open as it expands my aching chest. This is more than bodily pleasure. This is rapture…surrender.
I’m coming apart to thoughts of my stepbrother while a stranger jerks my dick.
“Look at me,” he orders, releasing my throat to clasp my chin, and our eyes clash, sending sparks to my pulsing dick. “I need those eyes on me when you come all over my hand.”
Who are you?
He digs his ruthless fingers into the stubble on my chin, his eyes burning into me. My hips meet his touch, rocking and thrusting. I’m trembling.
As he increases his pace, I struggle to keep my eyes open. Fuck, I’m so close. His grip tightens when my lashes threaten to flutter closed, and I break out into a cold sweat, my balls drawing up.
Moaning, I fist his hair, needing to feel the soft strands between my fingers, but he bats me off before trapping my wrists above my head in one of his hands.
His eyes fly over my face as I shudder beneath his weight. Where do I know those eyes from? I imagine it’s Cole’s eyes staring down at me with his hand on my cock, stroking and smearing the precum over my veiny length.
My damp clothes stick to my skin, cool against my heated flesh. I’m burning up, caught in those eyes.
I’m helpless.
Defenseless.
“Good boy,” he praises, grinding against my thigh.
We move like frothy waves on an ocean, rocking on the grimy floor while gazing at each other. I can’t hold back the climax, not when I scan the crack in his mask, seeing the tanned skin beneath. What if I remove it and find Cole staring back at me with his ruffled dark hair and tormented eyes?
Fuck…
I come all over his hand, quivering, as moans rip from my throat. I bite down hard on my lip to suppress them, but I don’t look away from his eyes. No, I lose myself in him completely as pleasure stiffens every muscle in my tender, bruised body.
I’m ruined.
He slows his slick hand on my dick and stares at me for a fragile, throbbing minute. We don’t speak.
A line has been drawn in the sand on this battlefield.
Then he’s gone, fleeing the room before I recover from his onslaught.
Wise choice.
“Fuck it all to hell,” I curse, dragging my hand down my face.
It comes away slick with blood, a crimson rivulet trailing from my palm down my wrist before soaking my sleeve.
