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I glance over and see Sem’s painted face peeking behind a tree, while Emery hides behind a giant tire. They’re going to do some kind of sneak attack. I just know it.
I’m so distracted plotting my next move that I don’t feel a presence moving up behind me.
“What the hell are you doing?” Elliot asks harshly, and I clamp my mouth shut mid-howl and try to turn, but his hands are suddenly on my hips and his body is pressed up against my back. He’s firmly holding me still.
Oh, shit. I like this far too much. My hungry dick likes it too.
It’s getting hard and weepy.
“Why are you howling like an animal?” he asks, and that low voice in my ear makes my skin prickle and my imagination soar. It’s off into outer space now.
“Answer. Me,” Elliot growls and presses himself harder into my back, his fingers digging into my sides.
“Uh,” I say, and I can’t even form words. My brain has lost all ability to function. Goddamn, is it weird to hope he anally probes me right now?
“You were saying?” Elliot drawls. Then his breath hits my earlobe, and I’m flushed and sweating, my gun hanging limply by my side.
“You’re scrambling my brain,” I manage to mutter. Elliot chuckles darkly, and my dick twitches painfully behind my zipper.
Damn. Who knew I’d be so into this domination shit?
He could probably tell me to do anything at this point, and I’d do it.
One of his hands slowly moves down to the bulge in my pants, and then he squeezes.
He squeezes my dick, and I slump right into the haybale. I’m surprised it doesn’t just topple over with my weight pressed against it.
“Elliot,” I groan, my gun dropping into the dirt with a loud clatter.
“Acting like an animal,” Elliot grumbles. “Perhaps I should make you get on your knees and beg.”
I’m panting now, like a dog.
He wouldn’t be too far off; I’d beg for him.
He flexes his fingers once more, and I’m in literal pain. My dick is ready to explode. It’s been so long. Too long. So, I do the only sensible thing.
I thrust up into his hand once and come in my fucking pants.
Self-control, who needs it? Not me.
I shudder through the release and then breathe deeply through my nose. And as the haze wears away, I kind of feel like shit. My boxers are uncomfortably damp, and Elliot has backed away from me and is rubbing his temple in my peripheral. He looks smug and slightly annoyed.
“We won!” I hear through the roar in my ears.
Did he fucking do this shit to win? Was this a trick?
“Let’s go,” he mutters.
I eyeball him, but still follow him out from behind the hay bale like a disobedient child. But I’m kind of pissed too. Asshole is playing with me.
“Hey, man, you okay?” Emery blurts, and I open my mouth and then close it. Then open it again and gesture to my right where Elliot is standing, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“He just…he jacked me off behind a hay bale.”
Everyone swivels to look at Elliot.
“No. I accidentally touched your dick. There were no wrist movements.”
