Shattered Glass(110)

“Not swallowing it?” We apparently were going to go for round two. Outside. In the parking lot. Fucking nuts.

“Not as sexy.”

“Not as dominating, you mean.”

“That too.”

“I’m not into the dom/sub thing.”

He shrugged. “Me either. I just like…”

“Taking charge?” I arched a brow.

He grinned wider and pulled my shirt apart, dragging it and my jacket over my shoulders. Curling my tie around one fist, he gripped my cock with the other. “You like it.”

I did. Public sex, too, it seemed. I looked around, cautiously. Empty alley. Dark windows in the distance. Crickets chirped, a horn honked from a few streets over. Other than that, the city was silent. Or, maybe I was so wrapped in Peter, I didn’t notice much else.

“Brace yourself.” He jerked the tie and pulled me into a kiss. In situations like this, one always had a choice. Mine was to obey or topple over. Obeying included his wet, warm lips against mine. Obeying included his tongue plunging into my mouth. Obeying included his hand stroking my cock. All in all, obeying was the first and best choice. Not just the only one.

He released me to cup my jaw and pulled back. “I want to watch you get off.”

I opened my eyes and blinked the fog away. “Huh?”

“Jerk off. Masturbate. Stroke your cock ‘til you come.”

“I get it,” I interrupted the string of euphemisms. “Christ, you’re bossy.”

“And you’re blushing.”

“I’m not blushing,” I lied. “I’m aroused. I want to fuck you. And it’s hot out here.”

“You blushing is hot.” He pulled his shirt over his head and flung it on the hood before dragging my hand to my cock. I gripped and started my practiced strokes. The fingers that fumbled at the newness of pleasuring him were now on their home turf. He leaned back on his hands, displaying his chest while he watched. I concentrated on that scenery to avoid his eyes. And so he couldn’t see the embarrassment in mine.

It didn’t take long for my orgasm to build. Not with the moonlight soaking into his pale skin, detailing each crease and outline in his muscled stomach. And not with him slowly stroking his cock back to life. When he stuck a finger into his mouth and sucked like it was a straw in a thick milkshake, I closed my eyes and tried to control my breathing.

I was so focused on my task I didn’t realize he’d sat up again until I felt his hot breath along my ear. “Fucking hot.” He kissed my jaw slowly and hovered over my lips. Our eyes met. Were my pupils that dilated? So black only a sliver of color remained at the edges? “Are you close?”

I nodded. “Do…I get…a prize?” I asked, feeling his hand brush against mine. I waited for him to take over the stroking.

“Uh-huh.” Fucker was smiling as he slipped a finger into my ass.

He swam out of focus at the first knuckle. My hand stuttered. By the second knuckle I was dizzy with the need to come. My stroking intensified. When his finger crooked, I choked out a cry. “Shit.”

“Please don’t.”

“Jok-ah-ing? Now?”

God. God. God. The words became a chant as he pushed in again, hard and fast.

“Beg for more.”

“More,” I panted out. He added a second finger and fucked into me over and over. His voice was low, whispering things against my lips. I felt his breaths, but his words were drowned out by the thump of my pulse.

My eyes slammed shut, a blurred myriad of dots dancing against the curtain of black. His pace accelerated in time with my approaching climax. I dug my nails into the car’s paint as I tensed and came hard, gasping out an explosive breath.

I stood, legs quaking, gulping in air, rivulets of sweat racing down my cheek and over my nose. I shook and flexed my aching hand.

“Now that, Austin, was hot.”

I opened my eyes to Peter’s soft, satisfied smile. Closed them as he pulled out of me and prayed to God—who I’d probably just pissed off in my litany of blasphemy—that I wasn’t blushing.

I rolled my eyes as they opened. “I aim to please,” I said with more air than voice.

“Bend over and spread, in that case.” He wrapped his arms around my neck and softly kissed the sweat from my lips. I mumbled something nonsensical and quickly lost the English language as his tongue stole it away.

We were breathing heavily by the time we broke apart and looked down. His shorts were stained with my come, and his hips and thighs glistened with the same DNA. My pants were lying flaccid around my ankles. Both of us smelled like a locker room, and neither of us made a move to get dressed.

“We should go inside,” I said.