I wrapped my lips around him, tasting the precum leaking from his tip. His hips jerked, thrusting himself into the wet warmth of my mouth, unforgiving, taking exactly what he wanted.
It only turned me on more. My hips moved in an identical fashion, the two of us writhing on the bed together, sucking each other off, grabbing at each other’s balls, and squeezing them just enough to increase the need to come.
He rolled us, taking up the position on the bottom so he was on his back, my knees either side of his head. I braced my weight on my forearms, still sucking his dick, while vaguely attempting not to choke him with mine.
The urge to thrust down his throat was there though, and I took him deeper with every pass of my lips.
He stopped sucking me just long enough to shove his fingers into his mouth, but then his mouth was back and his fingers drifted from my balls to find my asshole.
I tensed, and he slowed down until my body relaxed again. The next time he touched me there I was more prepared for it and let him.
It took less than three rubs for me to realize what I’d been missing. I groaned around his cock; glad it was deep in my mouth to muffle the indecent sound. I didn’t need the wholefucking club knowing what we were doing, and yet I wasn’t going to stop either.
Rubbing turned into penetration, just the tip at first, but when I got used to that, he gradually gave me more, until I was taking his whole finger and fireworks were going off in my brain.
There was no fucking way I was going to hold on. My balls clenched, and I let out a moan as my cock kicked, spurting cum from the tip.
He let go at the same time, his erection hard in my mouth, the salty taste of his orgasm spreading across my tongue. I didn’t stop, didn’t lift away. I took every ounce he gave me and gave him just as much in return. My brain spun, my entire body went taut with release, and then eventually relaxed.
I fell over onto my side, his finished-off erection slowly fading, me just as done at the other end of the bed.
Our heavy breaths filled the room, both of us on our backs, heads at opposite ends of the mattress, chests rising and falling from the effort.
I peeled open an eye and peered at my phone on its charger, the time displayed on the lock screen. I sat bolt upright. “Shit! I have to go to work!” I scrambled onto my knees and vaulted over him, rushing into the bathroom and turning on the shower.
I was out in under a minute, smelling of the cheap bar of soap I’d done nothing more with than run over the most vital areas: dick, ass, pits. It would have to do for now. At least I wouldn’t smell of the sex Whip and I had been having for half the damn night and now the morning as well.
I barely dried myself, dropping the towel on the bathroom floor and striding through my room naked, pulling clean clothes out of the tiny wooden freestanding closet that I had barely half filled with my meagre belongings. I’d been living in the same pair of jeans and my club jacket, but I found an old flannel that had been packed up in a box of my things and stored inthe basement until I’d returned. It was a little tighter than I remembered it being, six years of working out daily in prison would do that to your biceps, but at least it was clean.
Feet shoved in boots, laces not bothered to be tied, I lunged for the door.
At the last second, I turned back, eyeing Whip in my bed.
He flicked his hand at me with a gruff laugh. “Go, dickhead. I’m a big boy. I can see myself out.”
It wasn’t that.
It was that I wanted to kiss him goodbye.
Like a fucking needy loser who had feelings he didn’t know what to do with instead of just being satisfied with having good sex.
My feet felt glued to the floor, my brain saying just walk out the door. My entire body and something deeper inside me drawing me back toward him like a magnet, demanding I stay.
My fucking heart won. I crossed the room to the bed and leaned over it, pressing my mouth to his.
His surprise was there in the pause where my lips hit his, but it fell away fast, and he kissed me back.
It wasn’t a long kiss, there were no demanding tongues seeking entrance, no moaning and groaning or turning it into more.
“Have a good day,” I murmured.
His blue eyes were barely focused before I was slamming my way out of the door and running for my bike.
War looked up from the table in the common room, a mug of steaming coffee clutched in his fingers. His eyebrow quirked, and I knew if he’d been sitting there long enough, he would have heard everything Whip and I had been doing.
“Shut up,” I grumped at him.
He smiled smugly. “Wasn’t going to say a word.”
