“No,” he answered, still sounding amused. “It’s been healed a long time. It feels good.”
The silver ring sat proudly, a contrast to the angry pink tip it circled through. My brain was still offline, unable to process this new information successfully. His fingers tangled in mine, and he pulled my hand up to my mouth. “Spit.”
I hesitated for only a moment before spitting into my palm, surprised I could even manage it considering how dry my mouth felt.
Then he was guiding my hand to his length, wrapping my fingers around heated, velvet-soft skin. He groaned, and the sound knocked me out of my stupor. I tightened my hold around him, causing him to hum in approval again before I began to stroke him.
It was different from when I did it to myself. The angle was different. The feel and weight of him different. But I didn’t hate it. Not at all. In fact, the more I stroked him, the more he made those deep masculine grunts and groans, and I decided Iverymuch liked being the one who caused him to make those sounds.
“That’s it,” he moaned in encouragement. “That feels good, Rabbit, so good. Don’t stop.”
There was no way I was stopping, not when he sounded likethatbecause ofme.
I stroked him faster, held him tighter, all while I watched with intense fascination as the pierced head of his cock pumpedthrough my fist. I felt him pulse within my grip, and the sensation almost had me letting out another groan of my own. His hips bucked, and he started thrusting into the cage of my fingers. Faster and faster.
“Yes, fuck, Rabbit. I’m close. Just like that,” he moaned and praised, and my chest felt warm and proud. I doubled my efforts, and his words devolved into a string of curses and moans. “Gonna come, yes.Fuck!” he cursed, and his cock twitched in my hold as he came. Spurts of cum shot between us, landing on his shirt and mine, but I hardly fucking cared in this moment as I continued to stroke him through it.
I kept going until his fingers wrapped around my wrist, stopping my movements with a weak chuckle. “I think you got it all,” he teased, and I quickly pulled my hand back.
Suddenly, I was completely unsure of what to do with myself. I’d just received my first blow job, just given my first hand job. I pulled away from him to pull up my pants and underwear, somehow not even noticing I’d been completely exposed for much longer than I had to be. Dex did the same, tucking himself away into his jeans again.
“This didn’t mean anything,” I told him. Told myself. “I still hate you.”
He huffed and rolled his eyes. “Fine.”
“It’s also not going to happen again,” I said confidently. Though as the words came out of me I already wanted to take them back. Because how was I supposed to experiencethatand then go without it again?
“Hmm, we’ll see about that, Rabbit.”
“Devil.”
He smiled. A challenge rose between us that I hadn’t spoken but he’d already accepted. As I turned and left the room, I tried very hard to convince myself that it wasn’t a challenge Iwantedto lose.
eighteen
Dex - Past
WILDFIRE MEETS SEA.
“You’re in a good mood today,” Roy grumbled from the desk as I waltzed into the shop.
“I’m always in a good mood.” He gave me a long stare that spoke volumes, more than words ever could, becauseyeah, I was absolutely notalwaysin a good mood. I wasn’t even normally in a good mood. Good moods and I hardly knew each other. But now that I knew what Jonah tasted like,sounded likewhen I offered him pleasure, I could think of little else.
A week had passed since that party, since he’d hightailed it out of that bedroom like I was a fire and he was burning. I hadn’t seen him around since.
He was in my dreams, though. In my fantasies. Jonah’s pretty face, usually so sharp with rage, now melted into a desperate, whimpering mess of a man. Because of me. I did that to him. And I’d be doing it again the very next chance I got. Maybe even more next time. I wanted to know how much he would let me get away with. Because he hadletme. I’d made sure he knew perfectly well that everything that happened that night was because he let me. I wouldn’t force myself on him, or on anyone, not ever. I was an asshole, sure, but not like that. Nevereverlike that. Not like…
“Heard from Bryce?” Roy asked as I put my helmet on the shelf of my locker.
“Should I have?”
Roy grunted from the doorway, lingering for a moment longer as if debating saying more before he turned and stalked off to the front office. I rolled my eyes, but still pulled out my phone to shoot off a text to my least favorite buffoon.
Hey dickface. You’re working today in case you forgot.
I shoved the old Nokia back into my pocket and pulled on my oil-stained work shirt to get started for the day.
By closing time, Bryce still hadn’t shown up. He hadn’t responded to me either, which had left me with a grand total ofzeronew messages.
