I reach for my own cock and stroke it as I keep sucking him, never breaking eye contact.
“Fuck yeah,” he moans. “Stroke that hard cock for me.”
I keep my gaze locked on his, sucking him deep while I work myself and watching as he slowly comes undone. His chest heaves, his eyes turn glassy, and his grip in my hair tightens. Pain blooms along my scalp and merges with the pleasure sparking through me, lighting up nerves I didn’t even know were starving.
“Oh, fuck,” he grunts as his eyes flutter shut for a moment, and his body tenses. “I’m coming.”
The taste of him hits my tongue as he comes with a groan, and I watch his chest rise and fall with ragged breaths. As I swallow him down, his grip in my hair slowly loosens, and a new kind of hunger enters his gaze.
He suddenly grabs me, pulling me to my feet as he spins us around so my back is now against the wall, and he presses in to me. His gaze drops to my mouth as his tongue sweeps across his bottom lip, then his hand wraps around my cock with a slow, firm stroke.
A low moan slips out of me, and he leans in closer, his other hand sliding up my chest until his fingers brush over my throat. Immediately, I lift my chin and meet his eyes, giving him permission.
He strokes me again… then wraps his fingers around my neck and squeezes.
But not hard enough.
“You can do better than that,” I say, keeping my eyes locked on his.
His eyes narrow slightly as he seems to study me for a moment. But it doesn’t last long, as he tightens his grip hard enough to steal a breath and send a pulse of electricity right down my spine.
He keeps stroking me, increasing his speed until my body starts to give way beneath the flood of sensation. Pain and pleasure blur together, twisting inside me like they’ve always belonged in the same breath. Hurt and comfort… Control and surrender. It’s overwhelming, but not in a way that makes me want to pull back. But in a way that makes me want to dive deeper, as I chase a high I didn’t know I needed. I’ve been numb for too long, and the feeling of his hands, his weight pressed against me, the fire in my throat, and the pressure building between my legs is actually making me feel something again.
My moans grow louder and my breath becomes heavy as I tip closer to the edge, consumed by the need to let go.
He nudges my chin higher with his hand still tight around my throat, forcing my eyes to his.
“Come,” he says darkly, looking at me like I’m something to be devoured.
My release crashes through me like a dam breaking wide open. It tears through my body with an intensity that leaves me breathless as my muscles tense, and I groan as he jerks me through it. His grip on my throat tightens just enough to make me feel it in every beat of my pulse, and in every quiet place that forgot what it meant to ache.
When he lets go of me, the absence of pressure leaves me longing. But I quietly watch as he lifts his hand to his mouth, andslowly licks my cum from his fingers. Then he steps in, placing his palms on the wall on either side of my head as he pushes his tongue past my lips and gives me a taste of what he’s done to me.
When he pulls back just enough to look at me, he smirks. “You’re a fucking delight.”
I huff out a breath with a small shake of my head, and he just chuckles, stepping back to zip up his jeans.
I watch him as I pull my own pants back up, and he turns away to straighten the desk where papers scattered. And my gaze drifts to the large Basin Kings patch stitched across the back of his cut.
I don’t know much about the Kings. They keep their real business locked up tight, but everyone’s heard the rumours. Auto theft, chop-shop deals, flipping stolen rides… with their bike and auto garage as a front. Classic outlaw shit. They've been around Fredericton forever, but I’ve never paid them much attention. Even as a kid back in Moncton, I remember the patches and the stories.
And since I moved to Fredericton to work at the University of New Brunswick, I see them around quite a bit. But they haven’t touched my life in any way, so why would I care?
He turns to face me, and my eyes drop to the name stitched over his chest. The one I purposely ignored out in the bar.
A. Roy. Vice President.
Well, I guess now that I’ve sucked off their VP, it’s affecting me a little.
He doesn’t say a word as he watches me with one eyebrow slightly raised, and the corner of his lips curved like he’s waiting to see what I’ll do next.
And as I stare right back at him, taking in the dangerous look in his eyes, something in me shifts.
It feels like a crack in the numbness… a flicker of something both welcome and unwelcome. Like it’s something I may havebeen looking for… but now that it’s here, it’s raw, unfamiliar, and inconvenient.
So I don’t touch it.
“Well,” I say with a small nod. “Thanks for that.”
