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Now.

I open my mouth, but his kiss steals the words.

The bag of toastie supplies lands back onto the floor beside my laptop. Jack’s hands move to my waist, holding me tightly enough that all the sensible decisions inside me shatter to nothing. I stop thinking about Bill. About Christopher. About warnings disguised as trust.

Right now, there is only Jack.

His wicked little laugh against my mouth.

His tongue, dancing with mine like the devil.

The way his joking fades when I hold him closer.

Tighter.

My fingers tangling in his hair like he’s life itself, because I need this. I need him.

“I’m so glad you’re home,” he says, setting my dick free.

Home.

His kiss is slower this time, as though my presence is something he’s been thinking about all day. All because of a high end toastie maker.

Or is it?

I let him drag me away from the wall.

I let myself follow him.

I give in to the want, because wanting him is easier than telling him the truth.

I fight for the buttons on his shirt while he fights for mine. We’re chest to chest, flesh against flesh as we both drop our pants and grind our cocks together.

It’s me who climbs up onto the mattress on all fours and spreads my ass for him, because I need the strength from him. I need the surrender. I need to be fucked so hard my brain switches off and the sensations eat me up completely.

“Good boy.” He laughs, but I don’t give a toss for his snarky banter.

I focus on nothing but the sweep of his tongue against my spread asshole as my cock throbs underneath me.

“Dirty boy,” he says, breathy and sordid, then squirms his tongue as deep as it’ll go.

I want to be a dirty boy. I want to be a filthy boy. I want to be anything but the man harbouring secrets that will chew me up alive.

“Show me, then,” I say. “Show me how much of a dirty boy you can make me.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“I’m not tempting you, it’s an open invite.”

“Then I’ll take it literally.”

He only uses spit as lube before he plugs me with four fingers. I yelp and jolt forward before I accept them, but he’s on it in seconds, squirming and digging and diving.

“We’re training Alice for two in one,” he says. “So don’t think you’re going to get away without some stretch play of your own, BT. I want to own your ass until it bleeds.”

I grit my teeth. Take in his rough fingers without so much as a care.

“Don’t be a pussy in making me a pussy, you dirty bastard. Just fucking do it.”