Page 6

Usually, I go for other people who also seem to be a little wounded—dark edges to match my own. It’s easier that way. Nobody’s trying too hard. I get to feel good for a little while, and then it’s done.

But Evan looked at me tonight as if I had something he wanted, and I found myself crossing the bar to stand beside him as though I had no choice in the matter.

Fuck, I need to get this willing man out of his clothes before he realizes what a mistake I am.

I’m on him immediately, fist gripping the collar of his crewneck and pulling him toward me until our mouths crash together and my leg rams into the seat in front of me. All the tension from the day, from the drive, from my parents’ house, from years of feeling like an outsider in my own life funnels into this one point of contact. It’s more than just a release. It feels like whatever ease I sensed in him from across the bar is seeping into me now, like being this close to someone who’s comfortable in their own skin might be enough to make me forget, just for tonight, that I’ve never felt that way about anything.

I drag my mouth from his and place open-mouth kisses on his jaw and throat down to his collarbone, feeling his pulse jump under my lips as I lick and bite lightly—conscious enough to know I shouldn’t leave marks while he’s going to eat dinner with his family tomorrow, even if I want to. But maybe one won’t hurt. My hand slides down his stomach and palms him through his jeans, and the moan he makes goes straight through me. His cock is straining against the denim, and I press my hand against his dick just to hear it again.

Evan sinks into me, his mouth opening under mine as his hands slide up my back to pull me in closer. It’s not smooth or coordinated, and the feralness makes it hotter. He wants me so badly that he can’t be bothered to slow down.

“Fuck,” he gasps, bashing his leg against the console in front of him. “It’s so small back here.”

“You got a better place to go?” I ask because even though it’s cramped, I’m not complaining. The tight space means every movement presses us together and I can feel every reaction, every tremor that runs through him.

“No,” he murmurs.

“Then here it is because I’m not letting you go back inside that bar without getting my hands on you properly.”

His pulse spikes at that, and he nods. I feel the desperation building within him. Good. I want him aching for me. I want him so far gone for me that he can’t think straight. I want to be his new favorite memory of Bloomington.

Evan shifts his hips up into my hand, and I take it as all the invitation I need. I pop the button on his jeans and drag the zipper down slowly—too slowly judging by the frustrated sound he makes. All it does is turn me on more as I work him free. The light from the parking lot fills the car just enough that I can see his cock is flushed and hard, with neatly groomed dark hair at his base and a bead of precum gathering at the tip. The sight makes my mouth water.

“Good?” I check.

“I’ll be better once you—” I squeeze his dick just enough to cut him off and have some fun with him.

“Once I what?” I taunt playfully, more playfully than I usually ever am. “Tell me what you want, Evan.”

His breath catches, and his throat bobs. “Your mouth. Please.”

The please does something to me. This put-together man with his easy confidence and genuine smile, asking so nicely for me in the back of my Jeep. I smirk at how earnest he is before leaning forward and licking a stripe up his shaft, tasting the saltiness of him, and his whole body shudders.

“Like that?” I ask, even though I know the answer.

“Yes, fuck.”

His confirmation makes heat warm in my gut. So good for me already.

I take him into my mouth properly this time, hollowing my cheeks to work him deeper. The angle is awkward, my neck bent uncomfortably, but the second his taste hits my tongue fully, none of that matters. Nothing matters except making him feel good. Evan half groans, half gasps as his head falls back against the headrest, and his hands come up to tangle in my hair, but he doesn’t grip or push.

Setting the pace, I take his cock deep down my throat before pulling back to swirl my tongue around his sensitive, leaking head. His hips try to buck up, try to take more, but I press a hand against his hip bone, holding him still. I’m the one in charge, even if it is incredibly hot watching him chase my mouth for his own pleasure.

Every time his hips attempt to move, I press down firmer, keeping him exactly where I want him. The windows are completely fogged now, sealing us in our own private world, to the soundtrack of his ragged breathing and the wet sounds of my mouth on him.

“Marcus. So good,” he chokes out, fingers lightly scraping my scalp.

The praise from his pretty lips fuels me. I hum around him in response, and the vibration makes him curse. His balls draw up and more precum leaks onto my tongue. I take him deeper until he hits the back of my throat, fighting my gag reflex.

Fuck, this is exactly what I needed.

This wild, unrestrained behavior from such a seemingly put-together stranger. Not the polite, hollow conversations with my family and coworkers. This. This raw, honest, primal instinct that makes me feel wanted and enough. He’s not judging my choices or who I am. He’s just here, fully and completely in this moment with me, and he’s so desperate to be with me that he’s eagerly accepted a blowjob in the back of my Jeep.

I wish I could show him how much I appreciate him, but I’d need more space. His body and his moans tell me he’s enjoying this just as much though, even if I wish I could bend him over and fuck him. He’s getting closer—I can tell by his erratic breathing as I continue to suck and stroke him. My hand wanders down to his taut balls, and I rub them in my palm, giving them the attention they deserve.

“Marcus… I’m…” he starts, but trails off before finishing his warning, which I have no intention of listening to. I want to taste him all over my tongue, want to swallow him down, so I don’t pull off. I squeeze his thigh with my free hand, and he takes the hint. His whole body bows off the backseat, and he snaps, coming with a groan that I’m sure anyone could walk by and hear, but I don’t care. This happy, sexy man is coming in my mouth, and that fills me with deep satisfaction as he pulses all over my tongue. I swallow him down, gently sucking him through it until he’s slumped against the back seat, spent and catching his breath.

The air in the Jeep is thick, and he looks completely sated. This is what I wanted the second I saw him—him flushed, undone, all that easy charm stripped down.