I sucked his cock, up and down, in and out, licking the sensitive underside, and pulling on his sack, for a good few minutes. Finn played with my hair, moaned, groaned, cursed, and praised me.
One hand left my head to brace himself as he leaned back. I felt his eyes on me, watching me service and pleasure him. My cock tented my shorts and caused a wet spot to grow at the tip.
Finn ran his hands through my hair, over and over. When he spoke, it was near reverential. “This is so fucking crazy, man. Seeing you do this right now?”
He sounded like he couldn’t believe it. Neither could I, but I was too busy sucking his cock to be introspective.
“You were always so badass and cool. I always looked up to you. Captain of every single fucking team. Always had abs and built like a brick shit house. You drive a fucking motorcycle—FUCK,” he hollered as I took as much of his cock down my throat as I could on a down stroke.
“Fuck me, man.” His voice dropped to a growling whisper. “This is the hottest fucking shit that’s ever happened to me. Ryder Beckett, suckingmycock. Fucking fuck, man.”
His praise did things to me. Was it praise? I was popular, and in shape, yes, but I didn’t think I was ever badass. No… not praise. It was the way he said it. Like a confession. To me, but maybe himself too. Finn was never the most self-reflective person. Maybe he was finally allowing himself to realize something he never had before.
Finn flopped back on the bed, but kept his hand on my head. I sucked at my steady pace and knew it wouldn’t take much longer.
Finn sat up. “Ryder.” He sounded almost apologetic. I looked up with his cock in my mouth. “I’m getting close, man. Can I… would it be cool if… if you want to…”
I stopped bobbing and stared at him with raised brows. He said, “Can I come in your mouth?” with his brows furrowed.
It was so adorable. I had to stop myself from laughing. He asked to finish in my mouth, as if it were some great inconvenience. A clearly stated desire, yes, but so cute it made my chest tight.
I let his cock fall from my lips, but kept stroking him. “Of fucking course.” Lust replaced the apprehension in his eyes as I sucked him again.
I only went up and down twice before he spoke again. He sounded out of breath, as if expressing his thought was costly, and it came out as a whisper. “Are… uh… are you gonna eat it?”
I met his gaze and nodded, still sucking. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he groaned like he’d been stabbed. “FUUUUUUUUUCK.”
Finn fell onto the bed the same moment my mouth was suddenly and forcefully full of his semen. I swallowed out of reflex as he groaned and filled my mouth again. Not that I could savor it, but there was so much I had to taste it. Finn’s cum was salty and metallic with a sweet aftertaste. It had been a long fucking time since I tasted semen other than my own. I’d swallow him twice a day, every day, until his pubes greyed and his balls shriveled.
He found his words again, as his hand found my head. Finn held me in place as he inseminated my throat, saying, “Fucking hell, Ry. Jesus fucking Christ. Eat my fucking load.”
I nursed on him until only dribbles leaked out. Until his grip went slack and his cock was soft. When I let go and sat back, Finn was already asleep.
No one could blame him. That was a mighty fucking load he just blew. Not to mention the stress of it being in a man’s mouth. With as much as he danced and drank, it was a feat that he made it long enough to get off at all.
I picked his legs up and placed them on the bed. Then shimmied him to get the covers over his nude body. I was crashing too, but my cock wasn’t to be ignored. I lay in my bed, took my cock out much like Finn had, and came all over myself in seconds, if not less.
Chapter Eight
Finn
The limo they ordered was on its last leg, which was okay, I guess. Most of us, especially Miles, were in the same boat. It was an older stretch Lincoln Town Car with worn faux-leather seats that smelled of cigar smoke. Also, it was cheap.
Connor’s shirt was open, showing off his tanned skin and respectable abs. He was only wearing a shirt because the driver made him put one on. Connor had said, “But it’s a pool party. I need to come correct. Walk in looking good from the start.”
The driver, an older, overweight man, said, “No shirt, no shoes, no ride.” There was no further discussion.
Connor was in the best mood of all of us. Once we were off, he said, “Yo, broooo, I am so ready for this shit! VIP pool party? Fuck yes.”
Jason was less enthusiastic. “Calm down, man. I don’t know how you’re so full of energy after last night, but my head is killing me, and I was sober when I went to bed.”
Tyler laughed. “Yeah, Connor, you were pretty gone last night.”
Miles grunted. He wore shades in the limo and had said little that morning. Other than some mild regret that something was planned for the morning after the club. “Let’s not talk about last night, or else I’m gonna puke again.”
We laughed. Jason said, “I think the feeling is mutual.”
Ryder caught my eye from the other end of the limo. Or maybe I caught his. It lasted less than a second. If anyone didn’t want to talk about the night before, it might’ve been him.
