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With his passionate encouragement, it was easy to get into it. I thrust my hips and rutted against him. Something about our dicks rubbing together made mine impossibly hard, and his warm hand gripped us in the best possible way. We were in this stupid apartment where my father demanded I live, right there on the living room couch, touching each other erotically. I loved every rebellious thing about it.
“Make me come, daddy.” I panted and moved my hips faster, needing more friction as I chased my orgasm.
Quinn shifted around again, nearly knocking me off him. He grabbed me at the last second, repositioning me on top of his prone body. He chuckled, “Don’t look so shocked.” Then, he held up his other hand and got both of them in on the job of working us. I sat up more so he could jack both of us off. Pre-cum was leaking out everywhere, providing plenty of lubrication.
“Fuck…Quinn. Gonna come.”
“Do it, pup. Come for me, boy.”
And there it was. My back straightened, nearly involuntarily, and I shook as I shot out all over Quinn’s dick. “Ha. Look at that. I did it.” I giggled. “Messed you up.”
Quinn laughed with me. “In the best way, pup.”
“You have to come now.” I slid to the floor and leaned over him, taking his beautiful cum-covered cock into my mouth, tasting my saltiness along with his smooth flavor.
“Not going to last long like that, pup.”
I wanted to tell him that was the plan, but all I managed was, “Mmm…” I took his cock farther, rubbing the ridge of his head on my tongue. Like me, he was cut, but his head was a bulbous monster, while mine was sleek. I loved feeling him in me, didn’t matter if it was my ass or my mouth.
Quinn punched his hips forward, and I opened my mouth wider. I tapped the side of his thigh, letting him know I was down with him getting into it. Slobber ran down his length and my eyes watered as he rocked back and forth. I increased the suction as best as I could, and it had him moaning even louder. His fingers slid into my hair. Everything was amping up, and I felt the electricity of his chase tingling down my spine.
Then he jerked forward and held my head still and grunted. “Ugh. Yeah. Royce.” And I didn’t know how he made my name contain five syllables while he let loose into my mouth and down my throat.
When he finished, he pulled me back on top of him. “That was great. Thank you, pup.”
I snuggled in, getting my nose in my favorite place on the crook of his neck. “My pleasure, daddy.”
Gratification lingered over me for a few minutes until my stupid brain turned to Quinn having to leave. “I wish things were different, but you can’t stay the night.”
“I know. A few more minutes.” He rubbed my back, and I wanted nothing more than to fall asleep right there.
“Am I too heavy?”
“Nope.”
“Okay.”
Snuggling afterward was the best part of sexy time, but tonight it was over too soon. Quinn got us up and set his clothes to right. He kissed me softly with one hand on the side of my face, fingertips in my hair. “This was great. I’ll be ready for a repeat anytime, pup.”
“Me too.”
“Good.” Quinn kissed me again. Then he left.
I lay back on the couch, lingering in the scent of our sex and Quinn’s cologne. Yeah, I would be ready for a repeat, too. And if my father wasn’t such a douche, it could be sooner rather than later, maybe even twice before morning. But things weren’t there, and Quinn had gone, and I was left in this stupid apartment alone.
Chapter eight
Before Christmas
Quinn
My pup practically broke my heart with his Christmas is ruined lament the night before, and I needed to do something to cheer him up. So the next day at work, I leaned back at my desk and went online shopping. I knew my pup was addicted to flash and speed. Figuring out what to get him was almost a no-brainer. He needed something to look forward to or even use to figuratively flip his parents off. If he liked those Matchbox cars, well, he was going to love this.
I clicked on the Ducati dealership website. It was located southeast of Ybor in an industrial area off Highway 60, heading into Brandon. Not terribly far away, but I wanted to see their inventory before going out there. Most of the bikes they had were red. I guess if you wanted a fast and showy bike, a Ducati in red was the way to go, but I didn’t think that was right for Royce. I scrolled until I found the one. This baby was iceberg white with only a splash of red on the suspension bars under the seat. It reminded me a lot of the car he lost, only in bike form. I already had someone tracking his vehicle down so I could buy it back, but that was turning out to be more difficult than I thought it would be. It seemed as if Royce’s father had a buyer lined up and on standby before they even won the court case, as if it were a given. I sighed. It probably was a given. But if I couldn’t get that car back for him, at least he would have this bike, which was less expensive than I thought. Priced less than thirty thousand, I could pay cash for it. There was nothing else to do but call the phone number on the site and set up an appointment.
Two days later, but still a week before Christmas, I stood in front of Ward’s house, waiting beside the Ducati. Jax had put a huge red bow on the seat, then obliged me by calling his best friend to come over. Butterflies ran riot as if racing that bike inside my stomach and up into my chest. It was cold outside—cold for Florida anyway—so I pulled my sweater tighter while I waited.
Finally, a car drove up and Royce got out. He stared at me with a frown, marring his perfect face. “What is this? What’s going on?”
