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He sounds so cold and annoyed. I hate it, but he’s right. We have to move on and forget each other. I can’t be letting my secret out and having him around campus while anything is going on between us.
I could bring up the fact that he already told his friend about us. But I don’t, because I don't want to fight with him. I don’t want him to talk like that anymore. I miss the playful, flirtatious Thomas I met yesterday. But that chance is gone, so I might as well just stew in my disappointment.
“This is a nice car,” he says after about five minutes of silence.
“Thanks.”
“This is the kind of car you give a name,” he replies with laughter in his tone.
I can’t fight back the smile that’s taking over his face. “Aphrodite.”
“Oh, good one. I like it.”
When I glance his way again, the stoplight in front of us illuminates his face in a bright glow that makes him look sexy as fuck. And with just that thought, my frustration is back. Nameless sex encounters are fine, especially for scratching a certain itch, but I hate the way I want to touch him again, want to dominate his body a second time.
I know it’s fucking stupid, but I place all of the blame on him. It’s his fault for being a whore, for being good looking, for being my teacher, for being in my car, and for being friends with my teammate and his girlfriend. How much I fucking like him is his fault too. My fingers squeeze around the steering wheel as I keep my eyes forward, refusing to expose my desire for him.
But the longer we sit in silence, the more the tension between us grows. By the time we pull into the lot of the empty garage, it feels like I’m driving a bomb that’s about to detonate. I shift the car into park, but neither of us move. I can feel him readying to say something about what happened or how he’s my teacher or some shit like that, some lame fucking grown-up shit that will sound more rational than I’m in the mood to hear.
So I don’t let him speak. Instead, I reach across the seat and grab him by the back of the neck, jerking him toward me and crashing my lips against his.
There is not one ounce of fight in him. He opens for me like he did last night, but this time, it’s his lips that part as we breathe hot air against each other, our tongues colliding in soft friction. A low groan rumbles from my chest, and my dick seems to remember how I made it shut up and wait this morning because it’s eager to join the party now. I don't think it’s ever hardened so fast in my life.
I don’t usually like kissing. As a matter of fact, I can’t remember the last time I kissed someone, but it’s not for reasons having to do with the act of kissing or how much it turns me on. It’s more of a self-preservation thing. If I let people kiss me, then they can feel the scars on my lips and cheeks, and I don’t normally let people this close for that very reason.
But Thomas tastesso...fucking...good.I can’t get enough of his mouth. I pinch his bottom lip between my teeth, making him gasp and moan. My hands find their way to his crotch, and just like yesterday, he’s right there with me. Pitching a pretty impressive tent—he’s so turned on too.
My nerves are buzzing. I’m still full of the fury I had on the car ride to the shop, but my body and my brain are at odds. I want to squeeze this man so tight out of frustration it hurts. I want him to know how badly Idon’twant him. Or rather how badly I don’twant towant him. Because I don’t.
But here he is, being fucking hot and horny and always ready to go.
So I take him by the back of the neck and squeeze.
“Suck my cock,” I demand.
He hesitates, staring into my eyes as his are darkened with lust. “Pax,” he whispers. Then his eyes scan my face, seeing my scars up close, and I hate it. So I shove his face down to my crotch.
“I said, suck my cock,” I repeat. I hate the way it sounds on my lips, so harsh and cold. This isn’t me. I don’t want to do this to him, but why can’t I seem to stop?
He doesn’t fight me. Instead, he tears down the waistband of my athletic shorts and pulls out my throbbing dick. His warm mouth breezes over my shaft, planting kisses from the tip down to the base, then licking his way back to the top.
My hand is still planted firmly on the back of his neck. “Don’t fucking tease me,” I growl.
His lips part and his tongue touches the head before sliding it in his mouth, gliding across the wet surface until I reach the back of his throat. He doesn’t even gag as he coats my dick in saliva, closing his lips and bobbing up and down.
“Jesus,” I mumble as my hips jerk upward to meet his movements. Using his hand at the base of my cock, where his mouth doesn’t reach, he strokes me, squeezing on the upstroke. I can’t stop watching him. He’s so fucking perfect, and at this moment, he’s all mine.
I rest my head back against the headrest and lose myself in the pleasure while he sucks and licks and squeezes. My eyes close and my grasp loosens, letting him take over. It’s never been like this with anyone. Everything Thomas does is so flawless, and I almost don’t want it to end.
I can already tell I’m going to get addicted to this, to him.
“Make me come with that perfect mouth,” I growl, in a softer tone than before.
He hums around my cock as his lips tighten around me and he sucks even harder. He milks the cum out of me like a goddamn professional. I tighten my fingers around his neck as I jerk and unload into the back of his throat. The suction of his mouth doesn’t stop until I’m wrung dry.
I melt into my seat, staring up at the ceiling as he lifts his face from my crotch, licking up the mess he made on my dick. I think I might die because I can’t seem to breathe at all, and my heart feels ready to pound its way out of my rib cage.
When I finally relax a little, I look over at him. He’s staring out the window, and I don’t know if it’s guilt or shame he’s feeling, but I hate it either way. I don’t want to be done with him yet. I want to yank him onto my lap and pepper his face with kisses, rub my nose in that beard of his, and then jack him until he paints my chest white, but I can’t.
