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And he did, holding my head while he fucked my mouth, grunts and groans emanating from his lips. Mike was rushing toward his climax, using me to get off, chasing the high. I felt I should be offended by this behavior, by being pushed to my knees and forced to swallow around his hard cock, but it was fuckinghot,and I wantedmore.
Moaning around his length as he sped up again, I gripped his thighs with both hands, steadying myself against the onslaught of his thrusts. I could feel he was close by the way he hardened that little bit more in my mouth and the change of tone of his moans, now closer to animalistic growls. I wanted to know if he’d make those same sounds when he fucked me, and the thought made me harder than I already was as Mike groaned, gripped my head and held me in place while he came in my mouth. The salty tang splashed down my throat, and I struggled to swallow while his cock remained hard between my lips, pumping in and out slowly while Mike came down from his high. His eyes were closed again, and he sighed as he pulled from my mouth.
Bending, Mike grabbed me under my elbows and helped me to my feet before running his thumb along my bottom lip. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I just had to fuck that perfect mouth.”
His words and the heavy erotic quality of his voice sent another shock wave of heat through my body, and I responded by running my palms down his chest, coming to rest on his cock, still hard and ready to go again.
“Fuck me, please.” My words were almost lost as he pressed his lips to mine, dancing his tongue across mine and tasting himself on me. I loved how a growl rumbled through his chest whenever he touched me and his hands tightened on me, claiming me.
He chuckled, tracing his fingers down my jawline until his hand was around my neck, and he held my eye contact as he tightened his grip slightly, only enough to remind me who was in charge. His eyes were searching mine, perhaps looking for hesitation, but all he would find would be lust and desire, and I squeezed him in response, making him grunt.
“You love it, don’t you?” he whispered, his breath warm against my neck as he nipped lightly at my skin. “Being used by me? You’d love for me to bend you over right here and take you.”
“God, yes. Please…”
I started unbuttoning his shirt and got to the fourth one before he pulled from me, his hands grabbing mine with a speed and strength that startled me. “No…” he whispered, gently returning my hands to my sides, “… leave my clothes on.”
“But I want to touch you.”
“You can touch me over my shirt.”
It wasn’t the same, and I couldn’t help the slight frown that dimpled my forehead as I watched him. Was he hiding something? “Does this have anything to do with your scarification?”
“My what?”
Reaching up, I touched his wrist where I had seen the marks on his skin earlier. “The artwork on your wrists. Does it cover your chest too? Do you not want me to see it?”
Mike’s back stiffened, and the air grew cold between us. The step he took away from me might have well been a mile, and the significance of the gesture was greater than the space he had created. Barely two inches, but it felt like more.
“It’s not artwork,” he finally grumbled out.
“What is it?”
I knew I shouldn’t push, as though his body language wasn’t already clear enough, but there was something dangerous in his eyes—a darkness bordered by regret. I could understand if he was young when he got the scarification done and regretted it now, but he didn’t need to hide himself from me. I wouldn’t judge. I only wanted to touch him, to feel him closer to me.
I told him as much, and he turned his head from me.
Another step back, and the distance increased.
Less than five minutes ago, he was fucking my mouth as though he owned me, and now he was looking anywhere but at me. I was no stranger to rejection, but this was cutting on an entirely different level.
“What are the scars?” When he didn’t answer, I repeated my earlier sentiment. “You don’t have to hide from me… I’m not going to judge you. I only want to touch you.”
When I stepped toward Mike, he stepped back again.
His position was clear.
“They’re from the last person I let get close to me.”
What the fuck?
Did someone fuckingattackhim? A psycho ex? It was hard to imagine Mike in a situation where he wasn’t the alpha, the dominant of the other, but his demeanor had changed. However slight, there was a nervousness to his movements now. While his posture remained perfect and his expression almost impassive, the slightest frown formed along with the subtle drumming of his fingers on the marble bar.
“I… I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what to say. I pulled forward in my memory the image I had captured of the scars on his wrist. What could have created something like that? A rope burn? Being restrained? A hot poker? None of the options reduced the sick feeling in my stomach.
“I think you should go,” Mike said, the finality of his tone not backed up by the uncertainty on his face.
“I can stay,” I offered. I didn’t want to leave him, not now, not like this.
