AllFreeNovel
Share Us
When he started to slowly rock his hips forward, thrusting deeper into my mouth, I was in heaven. The tip of his cock kissed the back of my throat, and tears sprang to my eyes as I took him in all the way to the hilt. My panties were completely drenched by that stage.
I swirled my tongue around the head of his cock, teasing him. I could barely hear him now with my pulse thundering in my ears, too busy with how much he was enjoying himself.
He was pumping harder now, and I could just imagine how he looked in front of the audience. A chuckle raced past my throat.
Mason
“Do you think Bridge is having a stroke?” Logan asked beside me, both of us watching him up on the stage from the back of the room, giving a speech to the families who’d arrived for their loved ones.
Bridge’s brows furrowed, and the corners of his mouth twitched unnaturally.
“I’m not sure,” I replied. “Maybe he’s trying out a new meditation technique. You know, multitasking.”
His eyes kept darting down as though he had written his speech on the front of his robe. While his efforts to maintain his composure were impressive, his pitch gave him away. It was as if he’d inhaled a tank of helium. His voice was high, squeaky, and absolutely uncharacteristic.
“Why the fuck is he clutching the sides of the speaker’s box like a lifeline?” Logan whispered, followed by a small chuckle escaping his lips.
Bridge’s knuckles were turning white from gripping the edges so tightly, it looked like he might just lift it into the air. It worried me that something was really wrong with him, yet I was close to bursting with laughter at his theatrics.
The audience in front of us shifted uncomfortably in their seats, sharing glances and murmured whispers each time Bridge released another strangled sound or looked unsure where to put his arms—strangling the podium, folding them across his chest, or lowering them. I was never one to upstage a friend and supported whatever method he chose, so I let him do this thing.
Bridge’s face shifted from its usual pale complexion to a shade reminiscent of a ripe tomato.
“Perhaps we’re witnessing a new form of stress management in action.”
“Maybe he wrote his speech on the podium, seeing he can’t stop staring at it?” Logan added, struggling to keep his voice down as he grinned as laughter threatened to spill out.
Observing Bridge was like watching a train wreck—horrific but somehow too fascinating to look away from. Then the strangest sound echoed around the room, a low, guttural growl. Bridge tried to cover it up with a cough, but it was too late. It sounded more like he was auditioning for a role in a monster movie than delivering a speech about using calming methods when in high stress.
Logan snorted beside me. “Should have done the speech myself. At least then we wouldn’t have this spectacle.”
“Might be too late for a switch now. Besides,” I said, a smile spreading across my face as I leaned back in my chair, “this is the most entertained I’ve been all week.” At the same time, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for Bridge. Not that I would ever admit it, but the sight of him floundering on stage was a reminder that even the strongest of us had off days.
“Tell me he’s not trying to hump the podium,” Logan murmured, amusement in his eyes.
The statement would be absurd if I wasn’t watching Bridge rocking his hips back and forth at the speaker’s box, unclear what in the world he was doing. I scanned the crowd, catching a chuckle rippling through the room.
Finally, Bridge finished his speech, stumbling over the last few words. The room fell into a tense silence. I raised my hands, clapping slowly and deliberately. The sound echoed in the room, and one by one, the rest of the attendees joined in.
On stage, Bridge seemed to shuffle, his eyes widening as if startled by something only he could see. Then, straightening up with an audible clearing of his throat, he hopped off the stage, gesturing for everyone to follow him like nothing strange had happened.
“Let’s proceed with the tour,” he announced, his voice recovering some of its earlier antics. His gaze bore into Logan and me, a silent accusation that his strange performance was somehow our fault.
I met his glare with a smirk, unsure what had gotten into him.
CHAPTERELEVEN
KAT
Asick feeling churned in my stomach.
It wasn’t supposed to be Bridge at the podium. I made a massive mistake and sucked the wrong priest’s cock.
God, what’s going to happen now?
My mind raced with the outcomes. Would Bridge tell the others? Would they kick me out of the institute?
The image of Bridge staring at me, those intense grey eyes burning into mine, sent a cold shiver running down my spine. His expression was an odd mix of surprise, confusion, and... something else. Something that looked almost like satisfaction.
