“Don’t—say it—like that.” His voice is strangled, but his hips roll again anyway, like he can’t stop himself.
That goes straight to my dick. “Do it,” I whisper, threading my fingers into his hair. “Come on, Arte. Let me see how much you want me, how much you want my cum on your tongue, how much you want my cock in your ass.”
That breaks him. He sucks me harder—messier, more urgent—while rutting into the leather seat like he’s going to tear the upholstery with the same desperate rhythm as his mouth swallowing me. His groans vibrate around me, every sound shooting straight through my core. The rhythm is obscene: his mouth swallowing me down while his hips fuck the seat like he’s starving.
I can’t hold back. Not with him like this. The tiny shivers that rippled through my body grow into jerking spasms. “Artemis—fuck—I’m gonna?—”
He moans around my cock; it’s the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard. My balls tighten, euphoria seeping into my every cell. That’s what sends me over the edge. I fall apart, hips jerking, hand tightening in his hair as heat rips through me.
He keeps sucking me through it, slow and thorough, like he wants every last drop of my cum, with the precision of a sniper searching for that top-shelf goal on the ice, not a wrecking ball enforcer. He sucks me like he’s worshipping, like this is a promise.
When I slump back into the seat, boneless, he rests his forehead on my thigh, breathing like he just ran a marathon. His hips give one last involuntary roll.
I stroke the back of his clammy neck. “Did you?—?”
He huffs a single, mortified breath. “Yeah.” And then, without lifting his head: “Do not sayanything.”
I grin. Oh, I am absolutely saying things. Later, when I catch my breath.
CHAPTER 17
Artemis
Ibarely register the car door clicking open, but I can’t ignore another person joining us in the car because he clears his throat. A thick glob of shame tries to slither down my spine.
The car smells of cum, there’s no denying it, especially not to the man who knows me better than anyone.
I sit up on the back seat, trying to ignore the sticky, cool feeling in my underwear because yes, I blew my fucking load in my pants while sucking off Xavier. What. The. Fuck?
My blood has run cold, my mouth is dry, the flames of just a moment ago snuffed out by the gust of chilled air that brushed across my overheated skin when Apollo climbed his ass inside my vehicle.
My twin’s eyes meet mine in the rearview before sliding to a still half-naked Xavier. Mercifully, he’s tucked his dick away.
Shit. This is so bad.
My brother’s not one to judge. Okay, that’s not true. My family doesn't judge sex. They judge stupidity. But from the way his eyes bore into mine in the mirror, he’s judging. He knows this isn’twhat it looks like.
He pulls up the lid of the center console. “You got forks in here?” He holds up the abandoned pie from the hood. “You snooze you lose.”
It looks like a casual hookup. But I don’t do those in the cramped back seat of my car, on a whim, after a game where anyone could walk up and find me. Including my twin brother.
This isn’t nameless, or faceless. In fact, the face of the man I just blew on my backseat is scrutinizing me so forcefully it feels like my skin might catch fire under his watchful stare.
This is bad.
Xavier’s breath is still uneven, just like mine. I stare down at my trembling hands. They’re sitting on my lap, and in the dim light of the car’s interior you can’t see the wet patch in my crotch.
I hope.
Why couldn’t I have just kept it in my pants? I almost snort at the fact that’sexactlywhere my release is, but the frustration bubbling under my skin is louder than everything, including my still-racing heartbeat.
Damnit. So much for my iron-clad self-restraint.
Xavier’s looking at me with a question in his eyes, but I’m not sure which question it is.Do I leave? Do I stay? Do I crack a joke and diffuse the thickening tension? Do I ask your brother to leave?
His question could be one of many, but perhaps those are all my own questions, not his. We all sit in silence for a few moments while Apollo pulls out a plastic knife, opens the pie, and cuts himself a piece.
Of course Apollo’s sitting here in the middle of my shame spiral while one of our rivals is in a state of undress, and he’s just vibing like it’s Tuesday.
