There’s no hesitation, no teasing. He swallows me down like he’s been starving for it, throat relaxing to take me deep, and the wet heat of him is so intense I have to slam my hand against the shelf to keep from collapsing.
“Holy fucking shit.” My voice cracks. “Holy—Fuck—Bastian?—”
He hums around me, and the vibration makes my knees buckle. His hand flattens against my stomach, holding me in place against the bookshelf while he works me with his mouth.
Tongue swirling, cheeks hollowing, throat constricting every time he bottoms out.
He’s way too fucking good at it. And the fact that he’s so open about what he wants? It’s an insane turn-on.
“I’m—fuck, I’m not gonna last.” I’m babbling now, one hand fisted in his hair, the other white-knuckling the shelf. “Bastian, I’m?—“
He pulls back just enough to speak, lips brushing my tip as he glares up at me. “Think I’m sucking your cock because I’ve got nothing better to do? I expect you to fuck my mouth and come down my throat like the good boy you are.”
Eyes still locked with mine, he spits on my cock and takes me back inside his mouth.
Until now I’ve barely been thrusting because I don’t want to choke him or have his teeth scraping the skin off my dick. But neither seems to be an issue, and I can’t hold back anymore.
I grab the back of his head in both hands and fuck his mouth like he commanded.
The sloppy, wet smacking sound is so filthy, every hair on my body stands on end. I bite my lip, fighting back beastly grunts as I’m overwhelmed by the sheer sick pleasure of what I’m doing.
It’s so wrong, I want to be sick.
It feels so good, I can’t wait to come.
And when I do, I come so fucking hard I let out a groan I swear the dean must have heard in her office.
It’s not like anything I’ve ever felt. It’s a delicious, awful, full-body convulsion that starts at the base of my spine and radiates outward until I’m shaking apart.
I empty load after load down Rooke’s throat, gazing down with unfocused eyes as he drinks me down like it’s nothing.
When it’s finally over, I slump back against the bookshelf, panting, my entire body tingling.
Rooke rises to his feet, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His lips are puffy, his hair disheveled. I’ve never seen him look this…fucked. And he’s still hard, his cock straining against his pants.
“You—” I reach for him, but he catches my wrist.
“No.” He brings my hand to his mouth, presses a kiss to my knuckles. “This was about you.”
“That’s not…fair,” I manage weakly.
“Nothing is.” But he’s smiling, and it doesn’t look smug or cruel. It looks fond, if that’s even possible. “Consider this my apology.”
I’m afterglowing so hard, I don’t know what he’s talking about. “What?”
“For the way I spoke to you. The taunting.” He’s tucking himself back into his pants, wincing slightly. “I saw you spiraling and instead of comforting you, I?—”
“Don’t,” I rasp.
He pauses in the act of reaching for me. “Don’t…what?” he asks carefully.
“Don’t apologize.” I twist away from him, yanking up my jeans, nearly catching my deflated cock in my zipper as I yank it up. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to be the bigger man after everything you’ve?—“
Rooke scoffs. “I’m not trying to be the bigger man. I’m trying to?—“
“You’re a fucking cunt, Rooke.” I whirl around, in his face again, but it’s different now. So different, he leans back like he’s expecting me to hit him. Probably because my hands are in fists.
I force them open, holding them up between us. They’re shaking, but there’s nothing I can do about that right now.
