Page 80 of Make Me Mean It

I swallow, feeling the tight, used scrape of my throat as I look back up at him through heavy lids.

“Do it again,” I breathe, barely recognising my own voice.

Connor groans, grabbing my hair and dragging me back onto him, nothing careful in it this time. No hesitation when his hips start moving in earnest, pushing into my mouth with a pace rough enough to bring the tears straight back to my eyes.

I open wider for him.

Wet sounds fill the space between us, obscene in the quiet locker room as Connor fucks my mouth deeper, faster.

A whimper slips out of me, and Connor’s head falls back as his fingers tighten in my hair, holding me exactly where he wants me before driving forward again.

My hand slips beneath the towel, wrapping around my own cock, the first firm stroke nearly dragging another groan out of me. I’m so fucking hard it hurts, and the relief is enough to make my thighs tense as I squeeze the base, forcing myself to slow down before I lose it immediately.

My thumb drags through the wetness gathered at the tip before sliding back down, and I find a rhythm that matches Connor’s, every thrust into my mouth answered by another stroke of my fist.

A strained sound comes from above me.

I look up.

Connor isn’t watching my face anymore.

His eyes are fixed on my hand beneath the towel, watching every movement while he fucks my mouth, and the look on his face sends heat ripping straight through me.

“Oh, fuck, Theo.”

My name breaks apart on the way out, his rhythm faltering as I moan around him.

Connor’s hips snap forward, burying himself deeper as a rough groan tears from his throat.

“God, I’m going to come.”

His whole body draws tight above me, fingers twisting harder into my hair as he pushes all the way in. The head of his cock presses against the back of my throat and stays there, keeping me exactly where he wants me while my fist moves faster beneath the towel.

Everything builds at once, winding tighter at the base of my spine until there’s no room left in my head for any of the shit that’s been tearing through it for days. No lake. No wondering what the fuck Connor wants from me when he can barely admit it to himself.

Just his hand in my hair, his cock in my mouth and my fist moving faster around my own.

“Theo-”

That’s all the warning I get.

Connor comes with my name still caught in his throat, hips stuttering as his grip turns painful in my hair. Heat floods my mouth, spilling across my tongue and down my throat as I swallow around him, taking everything he gives me.

The taste of him is enough.

My orgasm tears through me before I can even pull my hand away, a groan vibrating around him as my fist locks around my cock and come spills hot over my fingers beneath the towel.

I sway forward into Connor’s legs, swallowing around him as the last of it rolls through me, my whole body still pulsing with the aftershocks.

His grip gradually loosens in my hair, and I ease back carefully, letting him slip from my mouth before my forehead drops against his hip.

My split lip throbs, my throat feels wrecked, and my knees are going to fucking hate me later, but I can’t bring myself to move yet. I stay there breathing against him, waiting for my pulse to stop trying to beat its way out of my chest.

Connor’s fingers brush my cheek, the touch so fucking gentle I freeze, his fingertips trailing along my cheekbone before settling against my jaw.

I lift my head.

Connor is already looking down at me, his thumb moving slowly over the corner of my mouth, wiping away a bead of come, my mouth parting for it, his thumb slipping between them.