“No.”
“You so did,” he says with a smile, biting my chin and reaching for the bag slung over my shoulder. He grabs the jersey from it and holds it up.
“Put it on. Nothing else. Just this.”
I try to resist, I really do, but in no time, I’m completely naked, the cool fabric of the jersey rushing down my chest.
Colton groans, adjusting himself as he watches me. My cock is sticking out, the tip visible under the fabric, and he reaches for it, stroking it roughly.
“So fucking hot. So fucking big.”
He leans into me again and kisses me fiercely, his body rocking into mine. We groan in unison, his hands grabbing ontomy ass and squeezing. It’s only a matter of time before he walks me toward his bed and we fall onto it, his body climbing over mine. His hair falls over his face, and I reach up to push it back, making his eyelashes flutter.
“I’ve been watching porn,” he tells me, tilting his head to the side and sucking on my wrist. “There’s a list of things I want to do to a man like you.”
“What kind of man is that?”
“A greedy bottom.”
I glower at him, and he kisses the resistance right off my face. I just lie there while he rocks into me, sucking on my lips, plundering my mouth with his tongue. I’m sweating and moaning by the time he peels his clothes off, leaving him naked above me. My hand moves to his back, sliding up his tan skin until they’re tangled in his hair.
We’re both hard, our cocks pressed against each other.
“I want to fuck you,” he says as he leans down and sucks a hickey onto my neck.
“Don’t leave marks there. Not where people can see.”
He chuckles and tugs the neck of the jersey down to leave a mark near my collarbone instead.
“That wasn’t a no for fucking.”
“That’s a no. You’re not getting anywhere near my ass.”
“Even if I ask nicely?” he says as he grips my dick and strokes, making me arch upward, wanting more. Needing more.
“Yeah, even if you beg.”
He pouts and then leans down and bites my bottom lip roughly. I shove him away, and he retaliates, the two of us wrestling on his bed, the covers getting tangled up in our legs.
But he gets me where he wants me: on my stomach, my face smashed into the comforter, my legs spread apart. My hands are pulled uncomfortably up my back, a slight pain radiating up my biceps if I struggle too much.
So, I just lie there, letting him pin me down, wanting to see what he does.
It truly was curiosity that killed the cat. I’m such a fucking dead guy.
“There, that’s better,” he says as his hand strokes up the back of my thigh.
I shiver at the touch.
“Now, let me look at that ass.”
“Fuck off.”
“Tell me if you want me to stop.”
I try to force those words out, but I can’t. I don’t say a thing when he drags his hand up between my thighs and tugs at my balls. And I sure as fuck say nothing when his hand drifts over my ass cheek and squeezes.
I choke but say nothing when he roughly spreads my ass open.
