“I blew your mind when I blew you,” he says with a victorious grin.
I’m glued to how fucking hot he is in such an understated way. His bleached hair with the dark brown roots hangs in his eyes and sticks out on one side. I have the urge to run my fingers through it to smooth it down. Brown eyes study me with an intensity that has me desperate to return the favor.
Reaching up, I grab hold of his neck, urging him up my body. Our lips crash together in a salty kiss. He groans when I roll us, settling beside him. I nip at his bottom lip as I push my hand into his briefs to grab hold of his dick. It’s thick and hot in my hand. I’ve never held another guy’s cock, but I like it. At least with another male, I know what feels good. With women, you have to guess and discover through trial and error.
“Canyon,” he mewls. “Lube me up.”
Bossy while at my mercy.
I like it.
Assuming he has lube in his bedside table, I pull away from him to open the drawer. By the time I retrieve it and settle back beside him, he’s shoved his briefs and jeans partway down his thighs. I admire his masculine body and dark hair, but gasp when I take in the state of his cock. On the tip, it’s pierced with a silver ring with a metal bead on it.
“You’re fucking pierced?”
“I heard it feels good,” he says with a devilish grin, “on your prostate.”
“Heard?” I pour a healthy amount of lube into my palm and then wrap it around his dick, loving the hitch in his breath. “From your lovers? Or have you ever actually fucked a guy with it?”
“I haven’t fucked anyone with it.”
For some reason, this pleases me more than I’d like to admit. Not that I’m sitting around waiting to take it up the ass or anything, just that I like the idea of there being something he hasn’t done with it and it could belong to me if I pushed.
I lazily tease up and down his length, watching him with narrowed eyes. He bites down on his plump bottom lip, thrusting his hips up to meet my strokes with fervor.
“Feel good?” I dip down to taste his peaked nipple. “It’s going to feel really good when I’m inside you, Wonderland, fucking you like I own you.”
He whimpers, his whole body tensing up. Cum shoots up his chest, splattering near his nipple. Curious, I swipe my tongue over it. Salty. Bitter. But something about it coming from the pleasure I gave him makes me want to lick off every bit. His chest heaves as I do just that, cleaning his body like we’re two animals in the wild. I avoid his actual dick because it’s covered in lube, but I’m curious to put it in my mouth.
Soon.
That and so much more.
Alis is my enemy turned into obsession. I want to consume him just as much as I want him to consume me. He’s an addiction I’ve only just gotten a taste of, but I know it’ll be the end of me.
“Are we going to talk about what happened?” he asks, his voice breathless.
“About how fucking good at this we are?”
His cheeks turn pink, which is oddly endearing. “No, I mean, maybe we can discuss that later. I want to know why you were so upset earlier.”
All euphoric feelings dry up, leaving me brittle and raw.
“Do we have to?”
“Yeah, man, we do.”
Alister
Canyon slides off the bed, turning his back to me. As much as I want to admire how his toned ass and muscular back inspires me to run my half-naked ass to my studio to sculpt it, I sit up on my elbows instead to look at my lubed, still semi-hard dick.
What the fuck did I just do?
I let Canyon jack me off, and I gave him a blowjob. With the damn door open, for fuck’s sake. Our house is big, and sound doesn’t carry, so I’m not overly worried about our dads knowing what we did, but still, it was reckless.
While Canyon dresses, I slip off the bed and rush toward the bathroom to deal with my dick. After washing the lube and leftover cum off, I pull my briefs and jeans back up, stealing a glance in the mirror.
Wrecked.
That’s the only way to describe the state I’m in. The unruliness of my hair, the pink splotchiness around my mouth from his scruff, and the reddening places on my neck and around my nipples are all evidence of a terrible mistake.
It. Was. A. Mistake.
For a perfectionist like myself, I sure am eager to make another one.
My dick is halfway back to erect, which is pissing me off. I can’t keep fucking around with Canyon like this. I can’t. It’ll end in disaster.
After splashing some water on my face, I pat it dry with a towel. Digging deep, I try to remember why being around Canyon is a bad idea.
Dad.
Because if Dad knew what I did, he wouldn’t kill me or be disappointed in me. He wouldn’t ground me or forbid me to see Canyon. He wouldn’t cry or yell.
He would turn me away.
Back out into the cruel world.
Alone.
Liar.
My heart fully believes he wouldn’t do that. That, despite being adopted, he loves me and would keep me around no matter my shortcomings. It’s my brain that has the problem. Logically, I know it would be the ultimate sin in Dad’s eyes. The cleanliness, overachieving, and excelling at everything I do are all efforts to make him realize he didn’t make a mistake taking me in. That I’m worthy of his love.
But a sin like this?
Kissing and touching and sucking off his fiancé’s son?
It makes my gut churn violently.
Sucking in a calming breath, I exit the bathroom. Canyon lingers nearby, his arms crossed over his massive chest and his brows pinched as he stares down at his feet. A flare of heat courses through my body, making me feel shameful and stupid considering the stern talking-to I just gave myself.
As soon as he disappears into the bathroom and I hear the sink running, I throw on my tank top and then busy myself with straightening my bed. The bottle of lube gets stowed away in the drawer once more, hiding the evidence of my wrongdoing. I’m pacing the floor beside the bed when I feel his electrifying presence.
“She lied.”
I freeze, all my inner berating ceasing as I jerk my attention to him. “Who?”
His eyes close, and his jaw clenches. “Mom.”
Before I can stop myself, I stalk over to him, aching for his nearness. He doesn’t shy away from my touch when I palm his cheek with gentleness.
“What did she lie about?” I ask in a husky tone, searching his pained sapphire eyes.
He swallows, the sound audible, and closes his eyes. “About having to work. She missed my meet because she had to work, but when I went there, they said she hadn’t been in.”
“Maybe she called in sick,” I offer, though I feel like there’s more to it based on the hurt in his expression.
“They said she hasn’t been in for weeks.” His brows crash together as his gaze darts back and forth between my eyes. For someone always so sure of himself, he seems younger in this moment. Vulnerable and heartbroken. It makes me want to pull him into my arms and not let go. “I was confused and worried,” he continues, “so I went home.” His nostrils flare. “She was dressed in her baking clothes…”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, realizing where this is headed.
He leans forward, resting his forehead to mine, his eyes pinching shut. “I confronted her. Things got heated.” His breath hitches as though he’s overcome with emotion. “She wanted me to leave her alone.”