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Cullen cocked his head appraisingly. “Maybe if you ask nicely.”
“I’m not asking.” I let the implication linger as the elevator doors slid open, acutely aware of his presence too close behind me as we walked down the hall and I fit my key in the door. As soon as we were inside, I shrugged off my coat and kicked off my shoes.
“Sweet dreams, Cullen,” I said with a grin and headed down the hall without looking back. I wasn’t sure whether the strangled noise that came from behind me was a growl or a laugh, and I also wasn’t sure whether what had just happened was a victory of self-control or a loss. But did it feel fucking good? Yeah.
The ache in my balls wasn’t anything I couldn’t take care of in the shower before bed, which was directly where I headed, peeling off my jeans and shirt and tossing them into the hamper before stepping under the warm spray of my shower.
My dick was still painfully hard, visions of Cullen’s mouth hovering in front of mine moments before making me ache for release. I wrapped my fist around my shaft and closed my eyes, trying to get my imagination to conjure up any random porn scene I’d watched, but Cullen’s face kept filtering into my subconscious. The powerful flex of muscles in his thighs on the field earlier, his tight ass, his arms. His fucking grin. The sound of my name on his lips.
My eyes shot open as a draft of cold air hit my back, and I twisted around to see a flash of Cullen’s naked skin a second before he yanked the shower door open and barreled inside. His open palm connected solidly with my chest, forcing me back against the cold tile wall, then slid up and gripped my neck, thumb stroking over my Adam’s apple.
I could have resisted, could have shoved him away, but I didn’t. Didn’t want to, and as his lips crushed against mine, my heart beat a wild, matching tempo. I forced his lips open, groaning at the silky glide of his tongue on mine, foreign and familiar at once. We kissed the way we did everything else, an unending dance of give and take, push and pull, dominance and submission. The heat of the water streaming down on us was nothing compared to the fire in my blood as I accepted the terrible realization that kissing Cullen Atwood was even more dangerous than fucking him.
“McRae.” The husky velvet of his voice snapped me from the hazy bliss of his naked body against mine. His pupils were wide as I lifted my gaze to his. “Still want my lips wrapped around your cock?”
I groaned more than replied in a desperate rasp, “Fuck yes.”
Fuck me.
9
CULLEN
Every time I was around Houston, I lost my head. It didn’t matter how much I told myself I wouldn’t end up naked with him again, that I wouldn’t let us get sucked up into the vortex that was Houston and Cullen, all good sense went out the window with one look of his seductive brown eyes, one touch from him, or I guessed I should say one brush of my skin against his because it was always me doing the teasing, me pretending to ham it up for people around us, me telling myself that I was just trying to drive him out of his mind, and it wasn’t because I was plain addicted to him.
I’d always been addicted to him.
“You gonna wrap that smart-ass mouth around my cock or what?” he asked when I didn’t move.
I shouldn’t have held his hand at the restaurant.
I shouldn’t have wrapped an arm around him when we walked.
I sure as shit shouldn’t have gotten naked and come into his bathroom.
But I was there now, wasn’t I? So I might as well suck a load out of his balls.
I mean, it was the nice thing to do and all. I was a good guy like that, but I also wanted to have some fun with him. The more I could keep this light and fun—just no-strings fucking around—the better.
“Eh, I’m not really feeling it anymore,” I lied. I was fucking dying to feel his thick cock stretching my lips.
“You want me to make you, huh?” he asked, god fucking damn him. I didn’t like anyone to try and make me do anything unless it was Houston McRae. There was no doubt in my mind that one day he would be the death of me—or at least be the reason I lost my mind.
“If you can,” I told him before stepping under the spray like I was in there for nothing more than to feel the water pelting against my skin.
Houston grabbed me and pulled me back to him, our bodies slapping together hard and slick. He wrapped his hand around my aching erection, giving it a slow, languid stroke. “I remember the first time you sucked my dick…how much you fucking loved it. I couldn’t keep your mouth off of me—not that I wanted to. You like being on your knees for me, Cull.”
