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He squeezes more lube out from the bottle to cover his hole then grips my dick, positioning it at his entrance. Watching Evan’s chest rise and fall with each shallow breath as he slowly sits on my cock with his used, wet hole is a sight to behold.

He’s so fucking beautiful right now above me, with his head thrown back and his fingers digging into my chest as he impales himself on me.

When he’s finally seated, he lets out a shaky breath, his body trembling slightly as he adjusts. I reach down to stroke his cock that’s already starting to perk back up, and I love that his refractory period around me is minimal.

“Fuck,” I breathe, my hands roaming his chest, his stomach, anywhere I can reach. “You feel so good.”

“So do you.”

Instead of letting him start riding me, I reach out to steady his hips and lean forward, biting and sucking his skin. His head falls back while he starts slowly rocking his hips, and it has me seeing stars.

“Fuck yes, mark me, Marcus. I want to remember exactly where your mouth was on me.”

“Goddamn, baby.” I groan, letting the pet name slip from my lips for the second time tonight and noticing how he clenches around me at the word. Then I do as I’m told, leaving bruises along his collarbone, his chest, his pecs all while he slowly rides me. Once he’s decorated in my marks, I go back to his nipples, and he groans sinfully. His mouth opens in an O of pleasure while little noises escape him.

“You feel so good. This tight little ass is squeezing me so good,” I praise, and I can tell he loves it by his whimper.

When I lean back against the pillows, he starts putting on a show, and I just watch, mesmerized as he sinks down, taking me inch by inch before pushing himself back up. His muscular body bouncing on my cock is a sight to behold.

I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this view.

CHAPTER 14

Evan

Marcus’s cock is stretching me open, and I look down at him all laid out beneath me. He looks blissed out already, his shaggy blond hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, his chest heaving, those intense deep blue eyes fixed on me like I’m the only thing that’s ever mattered. It’s a euphoric feeling.

And I’m going to make him lose his fucking mind the way he makes me lose mine. But first, I drag one of my hands over my chest, over the bruising marks he decorated my skin with. Last year, I couldn’t stop looking between my thighs to see his marks on me, checking every morning like they might’ve disappeared overnight… until they did. Days turned them from deep purple to a sickly yellow-green, and then to nothing, as if they’d never been there at all.

I remember the exact morning I woke up and couldn’t find a single one left. I stood in front of the mirror longer than I’d ever admit to anyone, turning to check every angle, hoping I’d missed one. When I hadn’t, it felt like losing him all over again, as if the only proof he’d ever touched me had vanished. Then I just had a phone with his number in it and eleven months to wait until I might get to feel that proof again.

This year, I don’t want to lose that so quickly.

Fuck, I need more of him.

“You like my marks on you?” Marcus growls as he looks up at me still rubbing my chest.

“Yes. I want more.”

“I’ll give you more. Later. We have all night, remember?”

His words fuel me. I plant my hands on his shoulders, feeling the hard muscles beneath my palms. I roll my hips in a tight circle, dragging his cock inside me, hitting a spot that makes my own dick leak. The groan he lets out is deep and completely involuntary, and I love seeing him lose his composure. His hands fly to my hips, his fingers digging into my skin, trying to guide me, to slow me down.

“Uh-uh,” I deny him. “You wanted me to ride you, Marcus. So let me fucking ride you.” Instead of letting him respond, I lift up, almost letting him slip out, but not quite, before slamming back down in one fluid motion. The sound of our bodies slapping together is loud and filthy, and it’s the only thing I want to hear.

His eyes widen; a flicker of surprise, of pure lust, crosses his face. He thought he was getting the guy from last year—the pliant, eager bottom who was happy to take whatever he was given. That guy is still here, but right now, I want to show him how good I can make him feel.

I ride him as if my life depends on it. Thighs burning with effort as I use his perfect cock as if it was made for me, and I really think it might’ve been. I feel the tension building in my gut, the familiar, delicious coiling of an orgasm that’s still too far away but close enough to taste.

“Damn, Evan,” he gasps, his hands tightening on my hips. “You’re doing so good for me.”

I groan at the praise as I shift my angle slightly, and the new position has him hitting my prostate on every downstroke. A sharp cry tears from my throat, and my body jerks. “You like watching me fuck myself on your cock?”

“Jesus Christ, yes,” he breathes, his eyes locked on where our bodies are joined. “You’re so fucking hot when you take what you want.”

“Is this what you thought about when you were jerking off in Chicago? Me, riding you like this?” I taunt, reaching down to wrap my hand around my dick. Marcus didn’t tell me he’d masturbated to me, but I’m not above fishing for information.

“Yes,” he admits on another ragged groan, his hips thrusting up to meet mine. I lean back, changing the angle again, putting my hands on his thighs for leverage. This new position lets me take him even deeper. I’m a mess of moans and whimpers, completely lost in the sensation as I roll my hips. I’m so close, so fucking close, but I’m not ready for it to end. I want to draw this out, to make this last, to make him remember this for the next 364 days.