Page 128 of Make Me Mean It

He hums around me, looking up at me while his mouth is still wrapped around my cock.

Fuck me.

I tear my eyes away before that alone finishes me, reaching blindly toward the bedside table. My hand knocks against something before my fingers finally close around the bottle of lube.

I grab it and toss it down beside Connor.

He pulls off me with a wet sound, sucking in a breath through parted lips, the sight of him nearly fucking killing me.

His lips are slick and swollen, his hair a mess from my fingers, his chest rising just as hard and fast as mine.

Connor grabs the lube, squeezing some over his fingers and rubbing them together, every nerve in my body seeming to realise what’s about to happen.

My thighs shift apart, and his eyes flick down and then back to mine, his hand slipping below my balls.

The tip of his index finger trails lightly over me. He brushes lower, over the sensitive skin behind my balls, and my legs spread another inch before I can even pretend I’m not fucking desperate for it.

“Connor.”

His finger reaches my hole, circling it.

Teasing enough that my hips tilt toward his hand, trying to turn that barely-there pressure into more.

“Fuck,” I breathe, my fingers twisting into the sheets. “Don’t fucking tease me.”

“You sure?” he asks, softer now.

I almost fucking laugh.

Not because it’s funny. Because there’s nothing uncertain about the way he’s looking at me.

Connor’s eyes are dark, fixed between my legs, hunger written all over his face even while he waits for me to answer. Like he needs to hear it despite looking like he wants to fucking devour me.

I nod again, probably too fast, but I’m past caring. My body is already lifting towards his hand, chasing the touch before he’s even given it to me, every muscle strung tight with the need for more.

“Need you,” I pant, and I’d probably be embarrassed by how fucking desperate I sound if Connor didn’t groan like hearing it has just about ruined him. The sound goes straight through me, hot and satisfying, because finally he sounds as far gone as I feel, and when his finger presses into me, my breath stops..

The first push is enough to make my body tense around him on instinct, still unfamiliar enough that I have to breathe through the pressure, but before I can adjust, Connor’s mouth closes around the head of my cock again.

“Oh, fuck.”

The sound rips straight out of me.

My teeth sink into my bottom lip, trying to catch the rest, but there’s no fucking point. My whole body tightens beneath him, caught between the slow pressure of his finger working deeper and the wet heat of his mouth around me.

It’s too much and somehow still not fucking enough, every part of me overwhelmed while I’m already chasing more because the only thing I know for certain is that I don’t want him to stop.

I force my eyes open and look down, only to find Connor already watching me with my cock in his mouth, the corner of his lips pulling into a crooked little smirk around me like he’s worked out exactly how badly he’s fucking me up.

Cocky bastard.

I’d tell him that if I could get enough air into my lungs to remember how words fucking work, but then his finger curls inside me and my hips jerk against the mattress, a strangled, “Shit,” tearing out instead.

There’s nothing smooth about any of this.

Connor doesn’t really know what he’s doing. I can tell in the little hesitations, the way he watches me after every change, learning from whatever my body gives away.

And somehow that makes it so much fucking hotter.