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And oh crap.

“Shit. I’m really sorry, Bry.”

The motherfucker’s sparkling eyes give the game away before he erupts into another burst of laughter. He rocks back on the sofa and points a finger at me like he’s won an award.

“He’s still alive?” I ask, and Bryce nods, holding his sides again.

“Alive and fucking kicking.”

“Cunt.”

I slap him with one of the boring grey cushions from the couch as the belly laugh returns and he’s still laughing along with me as I lob it away and pin him down.

“Nearly had me fooled there!” I say.

“I did have you fooled. Admit it.”

I shake my head, and pin him harder, my face in his. He’s still laughing as I lower my mouth to his neck, a grin still on my face as I graze my lips against him. His cologne smells great. And my cock feels mighty hard against his suited thigh.

Bryce’s laughter eases, but the rise and fall of his chest doesn’t. He bucks up underneath me, and I shift position to grind crotch to crotch. I get another stomach tumble as he seeks my mouth with his, and I kiss him with a different kind of fervour to the lay who brought me back to his from the bar last night.

The upcycling show is still blaring in the background as I moan against BT’s mouth and work my cock against him.

“I want your ass this time, Jack,” he mumbles, but I shake my head.

“My mouth wants your cum.”

“Heads or tails, then?”

I scoff, bearing down on his wrists.

“No need for heads or tails. I’m the winner. And the winner takes all the cum, exactly where he wants it.” I squeeze his wrists to illustrate, and then I shuffle down, tugging his shirt from his trousers before I unbuckle him. His cock is veined and solid by the time I get it from his pants, and my mouth is watering as I run my tongue up his shaft.

He grips my hair, his breaths still heavy.

“I’m the winner,” I say, then tease the head of his dick with the tip of my tongue. “Say it, Bryce. I’m the winner.”

He shakes his head.

“No, Jack. I’m the winner.” The cheeky fucker bucks his hips so his cock drives straight into my mouth. “I get to fuck your face. Face, ass, I don’t give a toss right now. I’m the winner because you’re taking it.”

He’s talking bullshit, but I’m too consumed by his cock to argue. I’m the winner because what I want is a mouthful of his fucking cum.

“Sit up,” I tell him. “I want the angle right.”

The coffee table gets shunted to the side, plate and all, as we get into position. I hear the divorce papers flutter to the floor, but Bryce doesn’t care about any of it, just keeps bucking his hips as I kneel on the floor in front of the sofa, taking control of his cock with my hand around the base.

He tips his head back and lets me lead the action. I suck on his cock like the pro I am as he curses and groans, driving him to the brink and then easing back again.

“You’re gonna shoot as hard as you did last night,” I tell him. “Only this time, it’s gonna be in my throat, you know that? I want every fucking drop.”

“Jesus,” he says as I edge his cock into my throat. “That’s so…”

I take him all the way in. He’s so deep I can lick his balls.

No more words, just moans and groans. I’ve got him good.

He’s squirming by the time I send him over the edge, a writhing mess, groaning loud as he tenses and gives me the explosion. He jets like a hose. A horny fucking hose that sends that cream so hard down my throat that I’d gag if I wasn’t so used to it.