“Was it about that school?” he asks, and my eyes dart from the outline of his thick cock hidden by his boxers to his eyes. “The one that burned down?”
I stare at him, my “yes” tucked behind my teeth. He stares back. One black brow lifts as he eyes me. Instead of answering, I reach for his cock. He’s not even hard, but it won’t take me long to get him there. He brushes my hand aside.
“Okay, then,” I say, gripping my hard length through my boxers. “You can suck me off. I’ll go easy on your throat since it’s your first time. Then we can cuddle and talk about our feelings.”
“Why do you do that?” Breaker asks, eyes moving to my hard cock as I palm it. “Turn it into this,”—he gestures to my body—“when you don’t want to talk.”
I give him a pointed look. “Just say you don’t want to suck my dick.”
He sighs heavily, bracing his hands on his hips. He really thinks I’m going to suddenly open up and talk after all these years? To him? The perfect, innocent boy who grew into the man that I’m obsessed with? Striker is easy to talk to. He’s fucked up like me.
Breaker is angelic perfection, and I will not ruin him with my past. So, I do what I do best.
Deflect.
“Too bad Strike isn’t here to suck my dick since you won’t,” I say. “He’s a natural.”
His head twitches, pale eyes blinking at the information. I might as well have sliced him open and shoved the words under his skin with the way he glares at me.
God, why do I do this? It’s always me pushing him away. Always me instigating a fight. It’s me testing boundaries and being an asshole when things feel intense. When I think maybe he’s too close to the truth.
“He sucked…” Breaker’s voice fades and I hear the flash of hurt before he covers it with an aloof smirk. “Too bad he’s not here. Then I could see which one of you sucks cock better.”
My jaw clenches. Jealousy sits like a hungry beast just below the surface of my skin. It’s a double standard, I know, but Breaker is mine. I’m the only man who has touched him. As much as Striker and I have opened up, the thought of him touching Breaker sends burning fire through my veins.
“We both know I’m the best.” I sit up, reaching for him again. He’s hard now, but his body is tense. “Years of practice and all.”
Breaker swats my hand away then grips himself tauntingly. “I think you forget, you’re my little fuckboy to give to whom I please,” he grates. “And I’d love to watch your tight ass get fucked until you scream in pain and pleasure.” The corners of his lips curl with an arrogant smirk. “Just like you did for me.”
The way he says it, like I’m nothing more than something to use, makes my face heat. We fuckedoncefive years ago after Hunter’s death. But we were both so drunk, so stricken with grief and the ravenous need to feel something other than horror, I barely remember anything beyond the pain of him as he used me.
Then, I could barely meet his eyes the next day. That old familiar feeling had slithered through me when I tried to facehim, talk to him, explain why I was so full of shame. And I couldn’t.
And he’s choosing now to bring it up after we’ve avoided the topic for years. After that fucking dream that took me back to that room. Toher.
I stand up, not wanting him to see the shame painted across my face, but he doesn’t back away. He moves in closer.
“Come on,” Breaker says. “You want my cock so bad, bend over.”
“I’m not your fuck toy,” I say, shoving him away. He doesn’t move. Now he’s the one being a dick, hurt by me, which is exactly what I intended.
It’s a sick game we play with each other. We’ve been here a week, avoiding this. Our attraction and refusal to name what we do in the dark. What we do when we share our girls. We’ve never spoken it out loud. Never voiced whatever this is between us except for late at night, using just heated breaths and his quiet demands to suck his cock. Hell, we’ve avoided it since that night in the hotel room.
“Just admit you like it,” Breaker says and grips my throat, angling his head down so his lips brush my ear. His hot breath fans my neck. “You love being my filthy boy, and you can’t stand the thought of anyone touching me.”
My breathing shifts, becoming heavier, my cock twitching.God, I’m fucked up.
His grip tightens on my throat. His free hand slides down between us, and he slips it under my boxers and grips me roughly. Something twists in my gut. Some dark thing that always blooms under his authority, except this time it slithers around, twisting and turning like serpents.
“Dirty, jealous boy,” he grates. “I bet if Striker fell to his knees to suck me off, you’d not be able to help yourself. You’d punch him right in the throat.”
Red blurs the corners of my vision, and words come out in a growl, “He doesn’t touch you.”
A cruel smile plays on his plush lips. Breaker moves in close, crowding me with his sheer size. I don’t budge. His chest brushes my bare skin, and the instant surge of electricity that sparks between us goes straight down my spine.
“If you can’t control that jealousy, you’ll find yourself tied to a chair, and you’ll just have to watch him greedily suck my cock. Maybe I’ll suck his.”
I shove him back, but he keeps my throat gripped in one large hand, his other pumping my hard dick.
