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“Me either.”
“Should we try to be…friends?”
I scoff becausefuck this. Friends? Hell no. I’d rather succumb to a diabetic coma. At least then I’d find some goddamn peace.
I throw off the sheet, scoot off the bed, and move toward the door.
“I would rather not be friends with you, honestly.”
August steps in front of me and I stumble slightly, my chest falling into his. Oh fuck. He feels so good, all big and tall and muscular.
His hands are on my arms and his face isright there. I could stick my tongue out and lick him from chin to cheek. I could just lean in and press my mouth to his.
“We can’t be friends?” he asks, and I shake my head.
“No.”
It’s a whisper, but he hears it, and swallows roughly. We stare at each other, something electric sparking between us, and then he turns up the fucking dial when his thumb hooks around the edge of the blanket and pulls at it slightly, exposing the skin of my neck.
His eyes shift toward it and the feathered design that sweeps up toward my ear, and I loosen my hold, letting him pull until my entire shoulder is exposed.
“Being friends with you would be hard,” he replies as one fingertip glides over my exposed skin. Goosebumps break out over my entire body and I’m trembling from just this small, minuscule touch.
“Yeah. Very hard,” I breathe.
He exhales shakily, retracting his hand. “You have any new tattoos?”
I let the blanket slip a little lower and nod, “On my hip.”
“Can I see?”
Our eyes collide and I know this is a bad idea, but he was touching me, and I want him to do it again.
I take two steps behind me, until the back of my knees hit the mattress, and then I sink down and lean back onto my elbows.
“Go ahead,” I say and August moves to stand between my legs and reaches one hand down to slip the blanket up my thigh until my right hip is exposed. He lets out a shaky breath and lowers himself to his knees. His face is so close to my skin that I can feel the warmth of each breath.
His fingertip traces the orange flower I’d recently had inked into my skin and then suddenly his face is pressed against me. He turns his cheek, and he inhales, his nose pressed into the coarse hair in my groin.
“I missed you,” he whispers.
“Oh fuck,” I mutter, and reach out and grasp onto his hair, pressing him into me.
August practically growls a feral sound that vibrates up my pelvis and into my chest. Then his hand is reaching up and grasping onto my hard cock over the blanket.
“Missed this.”
“August,” I moan as he squeezes me in short bursts. And I can’t stand it, him touching me. I need more. I need it all, all of him. I shove the blanket off. My hard cock bobs in front of his face and August doesn’t hesitate. He runs his nose up the thick length of my shaft and I can’t do anything but gasp as his lips press against the head.
We should not be doing this. Oh god, we really shouldn’t.
I’m never going to emotionally recover from this.
Our eyes meet as he flicks his tongue out and tentatively touches the slit, tasting the drop of precum that’s collected there. And then he huffs softly, opens his mouth and takes me inside. My cock is in his motherfucking mouth. He sucks on the head like it’s a goddamn pacifier and then just when I’m about to beg for more, he swirls his tongue––like he’s done this a hundred times before. Has he? Fuck, he must have, because you need to practice to be this good.
But my thoughts about who he could have experimented with vaporize when he slowly feeds me into his mouth to the back of his throat, one inch at a time.
I watch it all, not even blinking. My eyes water, stinging from the exertion, but I refuse to miss a single moment of this.
