“Roll your hips,” I commanded quietly. “Pull away slowly, and then push back again.”
He moaned and complied.
At the same time, I fisted his cock tightly.
“Fuck yourself on my cock,” I murmured. “If you wanna get off faster, pick up the pace.”
He didn’t wait long. He realized quickly that when he pushed back against me, I moved my hand up his cock. Then when he withdrew, I stroked him downward.
“Oh fuck,” he breathed. “I won’t last long.”
That was okay. I wasn’t done with him. This couldn’t be our only night.
He set the pace from there on out. He fucked himself on me fast and hard, and neither of us held back. Our groans bounced and echoed in the shower, and my breaths turned shallow within minutes.
It wasn’t until I noticed he was straining, like he couldn’t go hard enough, that I took over. With a tight grip on his hip, I started fucking him harder. I stroked him too, and when he tried to help out, I batted his hand away.
“Keep your hands on the wall,” I panted.
“I’m close,” he rasped.
I took a deep breath and smelled us in the steam, all sex and body wash, and he made my mouth water. I redoubled my efforts until he finally let go with a long, breathless groan.
I swallowed repeatedly and sank my teeth into his shoulder, and I watched the ropes of come splash against the tiles.
It sent me fucking flying.
A few weeks later
Philadelphia
Nathan Mills
I opened the door and glared up at the damn bell that jangled every time someone entered the pizzeria.
After working here for almost a year, I was ready to throw that damn bell out on the street.
“Ibra!” I hollered. He was probably in the back. He was a decent boss, the pay was almost fair—but he was cheap too. He refused to hire an extra hand, so he worked the ovens by himself. Sometimes, his wife and sister joined, but it was rare.
“One minute!” he hollered back.
I yawned and sat down on one of the stools by the counter.
It was a small place. They had two booths that were empty for the most part, and then a counter with six stools.
People wanted to eat their pizza at home.
On a Saturday night like this one, we had four guys doing deliveries.
“Okay, good to go, good to go.” He scurried out with a huge stack of pizza boxes.
I reached for the ticket and instantly frowned. I knew that address. And A. Riley? That was Ash.
Was he hosting a party?
“I’ll see you tomorrow, yes?”
Huh? I glanced up. “My shift’s not over till midnight.”
