Page 8 of Hunt You Down

“I’m fine, I promise.” I tried to keep my voice down. “Tonight’s the first night I’ve felt normal in a long time, and I just want to enjoy it. So let me, please.”

Dylan studied me, cataloguing the marks across my chest and stomach with concern in his eyes. He snatched my arm down, revealing the hickey on my neck. “Put some ice on that. And answer my texts next time.”

And with that, he stepped away so I could shut the door. I twisted the lock to avoid any more interruptions and hastened back to André. He lay on his back, turning his belt over in his hands. “Are you in trouble?” he teased.

“Getting caught with a boy in my room? I’ll be grounded for life.”

Instinct made me climb onto the bed, but then I stopped myself. What am I supposed to do here?

André picked up on it. “It’s okay.” He dropped the belt and opened his arms.

“Are you sure?’

“Of course. That was intense, and now I take care of you. That’s how this works.”

“Is it?” I had to admit that lying on André’s chest did make me feel a little more secure.

André combed his fingers through my hair, gently working through each knot before moving on to the next strand. “Well, the good ones do it this way at least. I like to think I’m one of the good ones. Sometimes.”

Nervous, I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. “I’ve never done this before.”

“What—sex?”

“No, I’ve had sex, but I’ve never done that before. It’s like I can’t get enough of you.”

Shut up asshole, you’ll scare him off.

André’s hand paused in my hair and my heart stopped. I thought for sure I’d said the wrong thing. Did I have feelings? I didn’t think so… But at the same time, I didn’t want this to stop. I wanted time to freeze. I was sure he’d get up and pick up what was left of his shirt and leave. “I can’t help but notice you didn’t say that in past tense.”

I sat up. “What do you mean?”

André’s hand teased down his chest, smoothing over the hard planes of his stomach and dipping into his open jeans. I squirmed, dying for him to remove the fabric. I drew my lip behind my teeth.

“You said, ‘I can’t get enough of you.’ Not couldn’t.” André tugged his jeans down to free his cock, pulling me to lie down next to him. “That tells me that you’d like to do this again.”

My breath hitched, his hand pulling my dick free of my boxer briefs. Oh, fuck me. “Oh, god; yes please.”

Rolling onto his side, André brought his hand to my mouth and ordered me to spit. I did, and he wrapped his long fingers around both our shafts. He squeezed and I whimpered, the drag of his cock against mine almost too much to bear.

He crushed his mouth to mine, and ignited the spark in my belly once more. Electric currents surged through my veins, guided by his lips, his fingers.

Round two somehow surpassed the first. André jacked us both, sucking on the clear side of my neck to give me an identical mark there.

This time, when he brought himself down to eye level with my dick, he didn’t move. I couldn’t count how many times he brought me to the very edge. The entire time I begged for release, only to be denied until I couldn’t take it anymore. By the time he laid down next to me, I could barely speak. My vision was fuzzy, and it felt like I was moving around underwater. Come drunk, I reached for his cock.

“You don’t have to do that,” he whispered. “You’re exhausted.” But he still moaned when I fisted his shaft.

“I want to,” I slurred. “I want you to feel good too.”

I didn’t have the skill to give as good as André had, but if he was unhappy, he didn’t show it. He thrust into my fist, leaving thin red scratches along my back until he’d painted his chest with his release.

I wasn’t sure what time it was. I didn’t care. I laid my head on his chest once again and he resumed his detangling of my hair. “Hey, André…”

André chuckled. It felt like I was talking with my mouth full of wet sand.

“What’s up baby?”

“If you’re ever in Georgia, would you look me up?”