God, I could eat him alive.
I don’t know what it is about Alister Sommers that has me going insane, but it’s true.
I’m fucking obsessed with him.
I pull off his dick, enjoying the needy whine he makes, and explore his balls. Sucking one of them into my mouth, I wonder if this feels good for him. Based on his hoarse moans, I’d assume so. It’s empowering to watch him lose all control.
Because of me.
My mouth.
My lips and tongue and breath and teeth.
His breathing comes out sharp and ragged when I test the limits of my teeth around his balls. I latch onto his eyes, enamored by how he captures me in his gaze. I may literally have this man by the balls, with my teeth no less, but he owns me with his stare.
I pop off his tender balls to continue my exploration south to the puckered, dark pink flesh that intrigues me to no end. I’d teased him about wanting to fuck him, but all jokes aside, I crave it more than my next breath. The thought of slicking up my aching cock and pushing past the tight ring of muscle almost has me coming in my pants.
“Canyon,” Alis whispers. “I need—”
“I know what you need,” I interrupt before pressing my lips to his asshole. “You need me in all the ways. Just like I need you.”
The words are too honest, but I don’t reel them back.
Instead, I slide my tongue out and test out the forbidden hole I am desperate to own one day. He yelps at the sensation, tightening the bud, which only makes me want inside it more.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur, hoping it sounds reassuring. “Let me make you feel good.”
I press into his body, testing the resistance. I’ve seen this particular act in porn enough to know that both parties seem to enjoy it. Feeling his tightness clenching around my slick tongue and the keening sounds rattling from him, I realize I do enjoy this. A lot. Having Alis come unglued by just my tongue inside his ass makes me feel like a king of the damn world.
Once his hole is nice and wet, I pull my tongue out, suck on my finger, and then slowly push it into him. For someone who’s got experience getting fucked, he sure is tight. My mouth finds his dick again as I ease my finger in and out, searching for the elusive pleasure button. I know the second I find it because he cries out, the only warning I get before cum barrels into my mouth. I’m caught by surprise as I struggle to swallow it down. Most runs out of my mouth, making a mess of his lower stomach.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” he chants, his voice raw and barely audible.
I rise to my feet, slipping my finger from his ass, and push my wind pants and boxers down my thighs. Smearing my palm over his cum, I use it to lubricate my own dick. His deep wells of brown bore into me, watching me fuck my hand. He parts his pink lips and breathes raggedly as he witnesses my filthy act. It doesn’t take long for me to come. My nuts tighten, and I grunt, sending hot semen shooting all over his wet dick and balls. It runs down, a waterfall over his puckered hole, and drips to the floor.
“I can’t believe we just did that.” His brows pinch together, panic briefly flashing in his eyes. “That was—”
“Incredible.”
A smile pulls at one corner of his lips. “Yeah. Yeah, it was.”
Our eyes hold for a long moment until I can’t help but lean forward, eager for his lips on mine. I never considered myself a particularly needy guy, but something about Alis has me continually desperate for another hit.
This thing between us is reckless.
Fuck if I can find it in me to care.
Alister
Five days later…
I’m going crazy.
Every stolen moment with Canyon is hot and desperate. Now that we’ve crossed this line, we can’t seem to get enough of each other. Twice this week, our dads have almost walked in on us making out in the kitchen.
Twice too many.
I can’t even begin to fucking think about how bad it would be if they saw us. And yet, I can’t seem to stop myself. It’d be easy to blame it all on Canyon and say he’s the one always initiating our encounters, but that’d be a lie.
I want him just as much as he wants me.
Sometimes, I pounce on him like a lion attacking his prey. I crave the taste of him so badly my mouth waters, and my hands often tremble with the need to touch him. I’m addicted to him, like a junkie who can’t seem to shake their hunger for a hit of the drug that keeps them blissed out. To the point that it’s exasperating.
That’s what Canyon is.
A mind-altering drug.
A window into a different reality.
When we’re alone together, I practically devour him inch by inch. The hickeys on his neck and chest are proof of that. I can barely keep my dick in my pants when people are present because all I want to do is jump him.
I’m fucked.
So fucked.
I’m in too deep—my heart and dick tag-teaming against me—to even consider stepping back. I should put distance between us and walk away because if Dad finds out, I’m finished.
Dread is swallowing me whole. Whenever I imagine what the look on Dad’s face would be, a mixture of disgust and anger, I feel queasy, and my temples throb, threatening a migraine.
I love Dad.
So fucking much.
He became the family I always needed.
But because I’m a horny motherfucker, I’m jeopardizing all of it to please my cock.
I don’t deserve this life. Or Dad. Any of it. Like my mother, I am predestined to be a fuckup, no matter how hard I try to be perfect in every aspect of my life.
“What’s wrong?” Canyon asks, trotting up to me on the track, a worried frown on his handsome face.
This is why everything is so difficult.
Him.
Canyon Voss.
My enemy turned lover.
If he were still an asshole, that’d be one thing. But he’s not. I can absolutely see why Nae stuck with him for so long. Canyon is a lover, not a fighter. Sure, he’s spent months being pissed about what Ryan did to their family. In some fucked up tactic, he tried taking it out on me, but now that we’ve stepped over that hurdle, he’s more than likable.
He’s more.
So much more.
So much more than I’ll ever be allowed to have.
“Wonderland,” Canyon barks, jerking me from my wallowing. “Are you going to pass out?”
Coach throws his hands up in confusion when we walk away from where we were supposed to do some practice sprints. Canyon holds up a finger at him and then leads me to a bench the football players use. One of the guys—someone who used to be good buddies with him—makes a disgusted sound and scoots farther away. If it affects Canyon, he doesn’t let it show. It pisses me off, though, that his teammates treat him like shit now.
My jaw clenches as I glower at the guy. Canyon grips my chin, turning my head to focus on him. For a moment, I get lost in his electric blue eyes. His dark hair is drenched in sweat and hangs low over his brows. I crave to run my fingers through it and make it stick up like I do when he gets out of the shower.
An ache forms deep inside my chest.
Why is life so unfair? Of course the guy I actually truly like would be considered untouchable. He’d be the one guy I’m not allowed to have—the one who has the power to destroy my family.
A ball of emotion clogs my throat, and I desperately try to swallow it down. His fingers, still on my chin, reluctantly slide down my neck, and then he curls his hand into a fist in his lap.