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“Of course I want you. Can’t you see? It’s obvious,” he moans when he tries to thrust upward but fails.
“Say it then. Say, I want you, Cooper.”
He sighs and then leans his face back further. “I want you, Cooper. I want you so fucking bad.”
I let my wrist flick down and then up, causing him to tremble in my arms. And then a few seconds later, he’s turning, his body pressed into mine, his lips on my mouth, his tongue tangling with mine. The two of us moan, low and needy as we seek inevitable pleasure from one another. My cock is impossibly hard, greedy, wanting to feel his dick push its way inside of me, but of course I can’t ask that. I can’t possibly pressure him into something he isn’t ready for. But I can help him up onto his knees, and push his pants down further, guiding his dick into my mouth.
He gasps at the feel of me swallowing him down. He’s doubled over, one hand on the back of the couch, the other in my hair as he thrusts forward, making me choke and gag. And the entire time, my cock is leaking, jumping between my legs as I feel him use me.
I want him to use me so much that it becomes a habit, a drug to him. I want him as obsessed with me as I am with him.
“Fuck, Cooper,” he moans, his eyes screwed shut. “You feel incredible.”
I hum my agreement. He feels just as good to me.
“Fuck. Fuuuuuck.”
He jerks his hips forward and comes suddenly, shooting down my throat before falling to my side, his mouth eagerly seeking mine as his hand grabs on to my cock, stroking me lazily, bringing me to climax in a matter of seconds.
It’s too much, Matthew Morris.
You’re too much for my sanity.
You’re going to take me apart, piece by piece.
But fuck, he can have me. All of me.
Mitch decides to come over the very next day, which is annoying, to say the least. I expected him to hem and haw and come over a month from now, but this greedy fucker invited himself over today.
And I am not in the mood.
Mostly because Matthew has been nervous as hell. Not to mention the fact that I have to make myself scarce—even volunteered to do it so that Matthew wouldn’t be even more stressed over this damn dinner.
Which means that I’ve made my way down to a local bar on the boardwalk and have ordered myself a half a dozen drinks and a few appetizers. I don’t want to get in the way of dickbrain Mitch and his piss poor thoughts on people who live differently than him. Such a child, I think as I sip on my straw. A big man baby, one who can’t handle men being in love.
I snort and then flick my phone on, opening up the security cameras and taking a long look at Matthew and Mitch in my kitchen. They’re chatting, having a beer. Mitch looks around skeptically and Matthew runs a nervous hand through his hair. I want to be there with him, to pull him into me and tell this big brother of his off.
But I can’t.
He doesn’t want me there.
He told me again this morning.
Well, that’s not entirely true. He didn’t say that exactly. He just kind of looked at me desperately, and I knew what I had to do.
I took one for the team, like I said I would last night.
I sigh as I finish one drink off and move to the other. I really need to stop slurping these down. If I get arrested, that will go on my record and then I won’t be able to volunteer at the school.
I slow my sips and pick at my chips and salsa. Pretty damn good for a dive bar on the beach. I should come here more often. May have to if Mitch keeps making an appearance in our lives.
Better us than Beau and Max, I think as I rub at my tired eyes.
I’m finishing off my third drink when a man makes his way to the bar and slips in next to me, and I find myself eyeing him. He’s about my age and a little rugged, and if I wasn’t with Matthew, if I wasn’t pining over my husband at this very moment, I’d have offered to take him into the bathroom and blow him. But alas, my heart rests solely on someone else.
On my husband, for however long that lasts.
“Anyone sitting here?” he asks me, and I shake my head.
