Page 87 of Down Bad

Like he never let go of me.

“Wyatt?”

“Just a glass of water is fine,” I tell him, coming right up to the counter like I have a million times when his aunt and uncle lived here, grab a glass out of the cupboard right next to his body, set it down, forget about it, grab Diego’s hips, press him to the counter, and dive straight for his lips.

—18—

Diego

I’d be a damned liar if I said I didn’t want it.

Wyatt? Looking the way he does when he’s all dressed up for church in his tight khakis and cute shirt?

Feels like I’m ripping the clothes off my Sunday school crush.

And the way he attacks me like I’ve done something wrong to him. Like the mere fact that I exist somehow equally pisses him off and ignites lust-filled rage.

The glass he got out gets bumped into the sink. Maybe broke.

Neither of us care.

I’m in heaven when he slams me against the side of the fridge, knocking off an avocado magnet and a calendar.

I get his shirt off fast. He drags my tank top up over my head and tucks it behind my neck, exposing my chest.

I’m obsessed with how he devours me. How his fingers run all over my skin. How he isn’t afraid at all to take what he wants. To use my body. Like I’m the first and last man on earth.

I stumble backwards out of the kitchen and fall on the couch. Wyatt doesn’t give me a second to breathe, climbing right over me and burying his face in my chest.

This guy has no end to his hunger.

Good thing I don’t, either.

He kisses one of my nipples while his fingers tease the other. I put my hands on his head, his hair too short to grab, as groan after groan comes out of me.

When the hell did I become a groaner? I don’t groan. I’m the one who makes others groan.

I feel his fingers at the waistband of my flimsy gym shorts.

They slide down my thighs like butter.

And I ain’t wearing underwear.

“Fuck,” I hear him moan.

What is it, Wyatt? Did you just see something you like?

My taunting thoughts shut right up the second his lips touch my dick. There I go, letting out another groan. Doesn’t end there. The guy swallows me down inch by inch. Drags his tongue around my meat. Sucks me both hard and soft, unpredictable, mad.

I grip his head, probably too tight.

But it makes him suck me even harder.

Like he enjoys being handled.

Suddenly I’m taking control, guiding his head up and down on my dick with increasing power. This just went from a blow job to me fucking his face.

And the harder we go, the more he moans.