AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Something tells me he’s done playing. Something tells me way too late that he stayed so he can punish me.
“Let me take the ring out,” I scramble to offer. “My ex said it hurt—”
He swallows me in one go, jaw stretched, and grinds his tongue along the ladder piercings with that heavy ring just sitting easy in the back of his throat, like he doesn’t care at all. Like he wants to make it very clear he’s not my ex and he doesn’t eat cock like a girl.
I’d take this kind of punishment every fucking day.
His right hand slides between my legs, looking for something, but I don’t pay any attention because he’s working up my shaft until he’s suckling at just the tip, twitching his head to yank on my Reverse Prince Albert with no consideration for the line between pleasure and pain. I twist my face into my arm, closing my eyes as I groan and whimper like I’m in some kind of porn, unable to shut up. The waves are breaking over me more and more quickly until I can’t breathe between them, the big one in the distance rushing closer to drown me and send my limp body to shore.
Here lies Jonah Scott. Death by bisexual experimentation. His last thought was “Sorry, Mom.”
So smoothly I don’t have time to brace myself, he presses his thumb against my taint and slides three fingers up my ass crack, spreading my cheeks with his ring and pointer finger while his middle finger brushes my hole. “Fuck,” I choke, slamming forward.
The moment I feel my head pop into the tightness of his throat, my brain short-circuits. All that remains is the frantic need to resist coming, because I didn’t ask if it was okay to jizz in his mouth and he certainly can’t tell me now. Every time I pull back, his fingers are right there, a warning pressure that makes my knees give out. When I try to escape that, I’m fucking down his throat again.
Sadistic bastard.
I do my best to warn him so he can pull off and finish with his hand, but all that comes out is something along the lines of “Jesus, help, I can’t—”
Ignoring me, he gulps hard once, twice, doing something unspeakable with his tongue, and every muscle in my body clenches as I unleash a seemingly endless rush of cum with absolutely no control, like a pre-teen touching his cock for the first time.
When I open my damp eyelashes, he swallows as calmly as if he just took a sip of Earl Grey. Brushing the back of his hand across his mouth, he stands up and pulls on his jacket without a word. I drop my arms and roll out my shoulders, my neck, unsteady on my feet in the awkward silence.
“Did it go away?” he asks evenly, tugging his cuffs into place.
“What about you?” I look down at his slacks, offended to find not even a hint of an erection. “It’s only fair if I help you come, too.”
He can’t stifle a snort as he pushes his clear-framed glasses back on his nose. But he hesitates with his hand over the door latch. “What exactly would you do?”
This shit again. “What do you like?”
His eyes stray down my body, but he doesn’t answer.
I study my palm, bruised from holding on so long, then reach toward him. He twitches almost imperceptibly, but I stop an inch from where the collar of his shirt hugs the base of his neck. If I pushed my fingers inside, they would find smooth skin and the unbearable heat of his body.
“I don’t know what men do with each other. But I’d do anything you can think of, anything you told me. I wouldn’t be good at it, but if you were teaching me, I’d try.” A wry smile tugs at my mouth as I drop my hand and glance up at him. “I’ve been told enthusiasm is my most notable trait.”
His big Adam’s apple shifts as he swallows. “Thank you. But no.”
The word brings me back to earth hard as he unlocks the door. My adrenaline high fades and I realize I’m standing in an airplane bathroom on my way to a law school where I’ll never fit in, my dick covered with the spit of a complete stranger who wrecked me and didn’t even get hard. He’ll go home and tell his rich, suit-wearing friends all about my face, my cock, the sounds I made, so they can snicker into their champagne flutes. He’ll leave me alone like this, stupid and lost and saddled with secrets that have gotten so much heavier I don’t know how I’m going to carry them.
When I try to pull in a breath, nothing comes, my chest crushed. A wave of dizziness blurs my vision and I sit down hard on the toilet lid. “I’m a joke,” I whisper, curling my fist and digging my nails into the ache of my palm.
At the edge of my awareness, I see him let go of the door. His voice sounds far away. “A joke?”
My voice, on the other hand, is disgustingly loud in my ears as I stumble over my words. “I messed up, didn’t I? You think I’m an idiot. I can’t even fuck up my own life right.Jesuswhat did I do—”
His strong hands wrap around either side of my face as he crouches down between my knees. “Shh.” He doesn’t look like the kind of guy who has ever comforted someone in his life, but his skin against mine is warm and he’s here and he’s so calm.
Tears start dripping down the sides of my nose, gathering salty on my upper lip. I can’t even remember what two words you put together to apologize to someone.
He goes still for a moment, then pulls my head down onto his shoulder, rubbing the back of my neck slow and firm, his fingers slipping up into my hair and down under the collar of my t-shirt. I’m getting his jacket wet, which seems unforgivable—you could probably sell me into slavery for less than the price of that suit—but when he rests his cheek against the top of my head, I can’t move and I can’t stop crying so I give up, just for a minute.
“You did well,” he says, voice low in my ear. “You’re good. So good. Some man will be lucky to have you.”
He seems to have forgotten my promise that no man’s ever going to have me, but it’s such a kind thing to say that I don’t want to hurt his feelings. “Yeah. Thanks,” I mumble thickly, trying not to sound like I’m lying. When I pull away, sniffing and wiping my face, he stands abruptly and straightens his clothes.
If I thought the silence was awkwardbeforeI cried all over the rich, gay man-god who just sucked my soul out through my dick, I didn’t know what awkward meant.
I guess he’s one of those smart people who likes to come up with words for things. I’ve been called a lot of words.Funny. Cute. Stupid. Annoying. Hopeless.He keeps giving me new ones I’ve never had before.Bi. Good.I can’t stop playing them over and over in my head.
I know deep in my chest that they don’t belong to me. I won’t get to keep them once I walk out of this bathroom door. But I’ll remember them for as long as I remember him.
