“Babe,” he breathes out, his hands reaching behind him to grip my thighs.
“What do you need, light of my life?” I ask, quickening my pace.
He turns to face me, wrapping his arms around my neck and pulling me in for a kiss. The water cascades down us, our bodies slipping against each other. The tips of our cocks touch, and I seize the moment.
With my free hand on his hip, I pull him closer, allowing me to grasp both our cocks in one hand. I stroke us, our shafts rubbing together, my piercings pressing into him with my firm grip.
“Fuck…” Clay moans against my lips, jutting his hips into me.
His weight starts to give, and I tighten my grip on his hip with bruising force to keep him from sliding to the floor.
Resting my forehead against his, I maintain the perfect grip and rhythm on our cocks. “Are you going to be a good boy and come with me?” I ask, panting, my balls drawing up.
“Yes,” Clay responds, his breath shaky, his hands now clutching my shoulders.
I glance down, admiring the contrast of his flawless skin against my tattoos. The head of his cock glistens with pre-cum, and I want to lick it off him so bad, but the thought makes me even hornier, and I growl, the vibration adding to the building pleasure.
“Come for me, love,” I urge, my need for release threatening to take over.
His body is eager to obey. I feel him tense up, and I lean in, capturing his moans with a deep kiss. I increase the pressure as I quicken the pace, stroking us both with fervent desire.
He comes, covering my cock and hand. The sensation of his cum on me triggers my own orgasm, and I bite down on his lip, growling.
We stand there a while, the only sounds around us are running water and our ragged breathing.
When we finally break the kiss, Clay murmurs, “Holy shit.”
I grip his chin and peck his lips. “That’s my good boy.”
EIGHTEEN
My morning was terrible.
The jerks at the bar last night were complete assholes, and I had to keep reminding myself that it’s not okay to smack someone, or I would lose my jobagain.It took forever to get them out, and I got home even later than usual, which resulted in a crappy two hours of sleep.
In class, we got back an assignment we had to do in pairs last week, and it was okay, but not as good as the grades I usually get, which bugs me. So I’m stressed, tired, and grumpy when I walk into Sophia’s lab.
“Hey,” I say gruffly, tossing my backpack behind my desk and plopping down in my chair.
“Hey yourself,” she says, in her super cute voice, giving me a smile. “Here, have some tea. I brought a big thermos today,” she announces, placing a mug in front of me. The mug readsBeau-tea-ful.I give her a look. She snickers and takes a sip from her cup, showing me what’s written on hers—Filled withpositivi-tea.
“Dio,” I mutter, looking up at the ceiling.
“Don’t be like that, Carolina. We have something fun to do today!” she says.
“And what would that be?” I ask, taking a sip of the tea.
It’s pretty good, some kind of green tea. And as the warm liquid heats me from the inside, a bit of my tension releases.
“Today, we have to evaluate whether a suspect was high, mostly on heroin. But it’s going to be a bit challenging because they got the blood samples pretty late, and you know how quickly heroin breaks down in the body.”
My gaze shifts from the cup in my hand to Sophia’s face. Heroin was the drug they accused my parents of using when they had the accident. I place the mug back on the desk and stand.
“Someone’s eager,” Sophia says with a smile.
“Can you walk me through the process step by step?” I ask.
She furrows her brow at me. “You should already know this. It’s not like it’s advanced toxicology.”
