by J. A. Rock
Well, um . . . “That’s . . .”
“See how fun this is? And if you were here right now, this is where I’d start licking down your neck. Because you like that.”
I gripped the edge of the crate I was sitting on. My balls tightened. “You can’t . . . know that.”
“I’ve seen how much you like it.”
I didn’t say anything. I took the phone away from my ear to wipe the grease off the screen.
After a moment, he continued. “When I got to your shoulder, I’d let you feel my teeth—just a little. Just enough so you don’t know what’s coming next. If I’m gonna make you bleed or make you shiver.”
I did shiver, even though it was hot as fuck in the stockroom. Or was that just me?
“Then I’d take your shirt off. Slowly. Because I fucking love every muscle in your back. And I’d lick you again—all the way up your spine—just to see those muscles move as you try to hold still.”
I had to get back to work. “I’m . . .”
“Miles?”
“Y-yeah?” Fuck.
“I’d make you take your pants off for me. Make you stand there waiting. I’d touch you everywhere—your neck. Your nipples. The insides of your thighs.”
Without meaning to, I brushed my fly with my fingers.
“I’d slide my hand down the back of your underwear. Squeeze that tight ass . . .”
My breathing roughened, and I moved my hand tentatively over the bulge in my slacks.
“Pull you against me and feel how hard you are . . .” When he spoke again, his voice was hoarse. “You hard, Miles?”
He wasn’t fucking around. This was turning him on too. “Yes,” I whispered.
“In the store?” He sounded mock incredulous. “Miles . . . what if someone walks in?”
My worst fear, and, apparently, a very compelling fantasy, because my cock pushed against my underwear. I made a small sound, frustration and arousal. I stood, the phone between my ear and shoulder, and walked to the wall. Punched it lightly as I hunched over and rubbed the front of my pants with my other hand. I had to stop. Had to. This was totally inappropriate. “Sh-shit.”
“You want me to keep going?”
“No.” A less than halfhearted refusal.
A pause. “So you don’t want me to take your underwear off? And bend you over a stack of boxes, and—”
“Drix!” My hand made furious circles around my groin. My eyes were squeezed shut.
“What are you doing?” he asked softly.
“I’m . . . I’m . . .”
“Are you jerking off?”
I opened my eyes. Shadows and light popped in front of me. “No.”
Another pause. “I wanna hear you come.”
“I can’t. I’m in public.”
“Who’s with you?”
I glanced around, my legs trembling. “Denise and Byron.”
“Do they like to watch?”
“They’re the security cameras. So yes.”
A soft snort. “It’s your store. You telling me you don’t know where to go so that the cameras won’t see you?”
I’d already done it. Picked the wall and the angle where the cameras wouldn’t catch me. I had a brief fantasy of the whole store watching. Jason and Claire and the delivery truck drivers and customers and cameras . . . all watching Drix hurt me. Humiliate me. “I have to work.”
“Then hurry up. Because you know what I want to do next?”
If he told me, there was a very good chance I would ejaculate on the spot. “What?” I let the word out on the softest breath—so soft I almost hoped he wouldn’t hear, wouldn’t think I was encouraging this.
“Make you spread your legs.”
“Gnnhhm,” I choked out, rubbing harder.
“Put my hand over your balls.”
Shit.
“Twist them, like I did the other day.”
A harsh breath escaped me.
“You gonna come for me, Miles?”
I clenched my hand in an effort not to stick it down the front of my pants. “No,” I whispered.
“No? Not even if I kneel behind you? Rub the backs of your thighs and tell you your hole looks so fucking tight and perfect that I want to stick my tongue in it?”
No.
“Pull your cheeks apart and start running my tongue up and down your crack?”
Yes. Fuck. Don’t. Please.
“But I never lick your hole. I just keep going up and down . . . up and down . . . but I keep skipping the one place you really want to feel it.”
Beacon Center. My future as a nice, normal dad with no dirty secrets. “Drix . . .”
“Touch your cock,” he said softly. “It’s okay.”
I wanted to. So fucking badly. I hadn’t been rimmed since I was twenty-four. I was going to fall apart, over goddamn phone sex. I was sucking in shuddering breaths, bracing myself against the wall, rocking my hips against nothing but air.
I straightened so quickly my head spun. “It’s really not.” I took my hand away from my crotch. “I can’t do this here.”
For a second he was silent, and I was afraid I’d disappointed him. Then he said, “When’s your lunch break?”
“Um, now?” My voice cracked. And it wasn’t going to be a lunch break so much as a trip to the bathroom to get acquainted with some cold water.
“I’m gonna pick you up and then fuck you in my car,” he said cheerfully. “It’ll be fun.”
“Wait—”
He’d already hung up.
Ten minutes later, I waddled out into the parking lot, trying to shield my erection. I got into his SUV and he drove us to the back parking lot of a drugstore.
I eyed him in disbelief. “Here? There are people.”
He shut off the ignition. “Tinted windows.”
“They’re tinted, not boarded up. People will know we’re . . .”
He grinned at me. “Lucky them.” He reached over me and took a bottle of lube out of the glove box. Tossed it into the back.
“I can’t.”
“Miles.” He shook his head almost pityingly, glancing at my crotch. “Look what’s going on down there. What you can’t do is go back to work like that.”
I stared at him. At the perfect line of his jaw, at those startling violet eyes. At the blue veins in his throat and temples.
Then I ripped my seat belt off and dove at him with a ferocity fueled by loneliness and shame and want. He caught me and pulled me into his lap and kissed me until I was shaking. Until my lips were swollen and sore from his teeth. Until I was rubbing myself against any part of him I could reach, and each breath I took snapped like a twig, and the front of my underwear was as wet as if I’d already come.
He undid my fly. “Get in the back,” he whispered. “All the way.”
I crawled between the seats. He caught me in the middle and pulled my pants off. Made me crawl half-naked over the very back seat and into the cargo area. He stripped awkwardly, long limbs hitting the walls of the bed.
“Is this why you have an SUV?” I asked. “Because it’s the only thing with a back big enough for you to fuck in?”
“Ha-ha.”
I shrugged out of my cardigan, and he unbuttoned the shirt I wore underneath, then yanked it off. I leaned against the side wall and lifted my hips as he slowly removed my boxers.
He did many of the things he’d promised over the phone. Licking. The licking was a big one. My neck, my chest, and then the V of my groin. Gave my cock a brief flick with his tongue before he started kissing me. I didn’t realize how loudly I was moaning until he came up for air.
“That’s so fucking hot,” he said. “The way you sound.”
I was panting. “Will you . . . Will . . . you . . . t-talk dirty?”
“Mmm.” He slowly leaned forward and pressed his lips to the crook of my shoulder. A series of soft, delicate kisses. Stroked my balls with the pads of two fingers until I was whimpering again.
“Everyone can hear
you,” he whispered. He ducked to kiss me again. “Everyone walking by. They can hear you moaning for my cock.”
I arched my back. Yes. “Dirtier.”
He laughed softly—that single noise somehow lewder than anything he could say. He twisted my nipple. A spark of pain shot through me, and he leaned close to my ear. His breath was warm and ragged, and then he said, voice low, “I wanna wipe my fucking face on your hole.”
Oh fuck. I almost laughed. But also I almost came.
He bit down on my ear. I hissed. He pulled, licked. Grabbed my cock and yanked it, drawing a strangled yelp from me. He worked his thumb around the ridge, then slapped the shaft back and forth. “I wanna get my tongue so far in there, you feel it in your gut.”
“Ah-ah-ahhhh . . .” My head pressed against the tinted window, and I squirmed.
“Suck on your balls until they’re raw.” He flicked my sac.
“Oh God. Oh shit.”
“So what are you waiting for?” he demanded. “Roll over. Spread your fucking legs and get your ass in the air so I can eat you out.”
He pulled me up and spun me, shoving me down on all fours. Before I had a chance to suggest I freshen up with one of the sanitizing wipes in my cardigan pocket, he’d forced my head and shoulders down and buried his face between my cheeks.
And I mean he got in there.
None of the slow teasing he’d threatened over the phone. He inhaled with a moan like this was the greatest fucking thing in the world. And then he jammed his tongue into me. I gripped the bar below the backseat, my face chafing against the carpet. Then I shifted from knee to knee, my ass tensing as heat flooded my cock and my balls drew up and I choked on a cry.
He had one arm wrapped around my left thigh, the other holding my right cheek spread. He flexed his tongue back and forth inside me, alternating wet pressure on either side of my channel.
“Oh no,” I whispered. “Oh God, please . . .”
I’d forgotten how good this felt. How filthy and hopelessly animalistic. He dug his nail in just below my tailbone, and I instinctively pushed my ass back against his face. I wanted him to keep talking to me, but I didn’t want him to stop rimming.
He withdrew his tongue—slowly, so I had time to regret losing it—and then lapped at my hole. He worked until the skin around it was raw, and I was almost in tears. He pulled my balls gently to one side. “Now I see your cigarette burns,” he whispered. And then he licked them. Traced each one with his tongue before releasing my balls and focusing once more on my hole.
His nose bumped the inflamed flesh, and then his lips. He started sucking on the rim, until I could actually feel it swelling. Until he was able to dig his teeth into it just a little.
I cried out, punching the floor. He alternated: one thrust inside with his tongue, one nip on the outside. Thrust. Bite. Thrust. Bite.
I raised my head and keened, rocking back and forth.
He paused to catch his breath.
“Don’t stop,” I begged. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop, please, Drix . . .”
“What do you want?” he asked.
“To come. Please make me come. Please.”
He grabbed my ass and dug his nails in. “You have no idea how hot it is when you beg.”
I twisted my hips, pushing my ass higher, not caring who saw.
“I am gonna make you come. But not like this.”
I froze. “How?” I whispered.
“You wanna know?”
“Tell me. Make it filthy. So fucking filthy.”
He slapped my thigh. I yelped. He did it again. Then pulled my cheeks apart and spit in my crack. “I’m gonna throw you on your back, bitch. Bite your throat while I fuck you.”
I shuddered over and over. “Okay. Okay, okay, okay.”
He lifted me and slammed me onto my back. The breath whooshed out of me, and I had no time to recover before his teeth closed on my throat.
I was kicking. I might have been kicking him. I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that he was raking my cock with his nails, increasing his bite pressure until I choked and whimpered like a . . . like a dog.
He raised his head. My neck throbbed. “What are you, Miles?”
“Whore slut toy hole dog . . . fucking . . . fucking bitch . . .” I chanted.
“Oh God.” He stroked my cheek, gazing down at me with a smile that was half-gentle, half-cruel. “You’ve wanted this a long time, haven’t you?”
I nodded frantically, grabbing his hand on an impulse and squeezing hard.
He looked surprised for a second. Then tender. He dragged one finger down my throat and pressed my Adam’s apple. “You wanna tell me what to do? Or you want me to take what I need?”
I shut my eyes as he pressed harder. “Take . . . take it . . .”
He swept his hand up and down my chest. “You absolute slut.”
“Oh . . . fuck.” A dribble of pre-cum tickled my shaft, pooled in the hair at the base.
He grabbed my balls and yanked.
“Ah!” I caught my breath, held it, opening my eyes to look into his.
“Spread your legs.” He smacked my balls three times in rapid succession, never breaking eye contact.
I tipped my head back and let out a silent scream. Sweat dripped down my chest, and my muscles flexed. My breath came out in rough, frantic yelps as I spread my legs.
“More.”
I couldn’t without hitting the back of the seat.
“I said more.” He never raised his voice, but it took on a dark, seductive tone that tugged something deep in my stomach. He reached over and pulled a lever on the seat closest to my head, pushing the seat-back down. Then he grabbed my left leg and flung it over the top of the folded seat, making sure my ankle was hooked around the seat that was still upright. My legs were spread so wide it hurt, and my cock dripped on my belly, my balls heavy and purple.
“What would people see if they looked through this window right now?” he asked softly, running his fingers down the creases between my thighs and my groin. He placed both thumbs against my balls and pushed down like he meant to pop them.
I didn’t want to think about it. Please be seriously tinted. Like, Mafia-getaway-vehicle tinted.
“Miles? What would they see?”
“Mebeingaslut,” I whispered.
He sighed like that turned him on as much as it did me. He pinched my sac between his thumbnails. “I ought to open up the hatch and let people take turns in your ass.”
I lifted my head. “I beg your pardon?”
He looked alarmed. “Too much?”
I thought about it for a second. Then shook my head. “Keep going.”
“But I’m not gonna do that,” he amended, sliding his hands up my ribs. “Because you’re mine. And I’m gonna bury my cock so far in your hot goddamn ass, you won’t be able to speak. You’ll be goddamn impaled, Miles. But I’m not gonna stop fucking you until you say my name. So you’re gonna be in a . . . a . . .”
“Quandary?” I supplied.
He grinned. Then slapped my face. I gasped, moving my mouth in circles as I tried to process the sting. It hadn’t been a hard slap, but it made my cock throb over and over—a strange, frustrating sensation, like I was coming hard, but without any of the attendant relief.
“Yeah,” he said. “A quandary.” He stroked my smarting cheek. So gently, and he murmured while he was doing it—no words, just a reassuring sound that made my chest tighten and my breath catch. I closed my eyes, leaning into that touch.
He grabbed the lube, popped the cap, held it about two feet above me and just started squirting. It dripped through my pubic hair and down the sides of my thighs and into my crack. He pulled my cheeks farther apart and drizzled it directly into my hole.
“Jesus, what are you . . .?”
He didn’t stop until the entire bottle was emptied, my groin and ass were a mess, and the carpet of the trunk was absolutely soaked.
“I do have to go back to work, you know.”
&n
bsp; “Shh.” He tried to hoist my legs over his shoulders. I grunted. I was not as flexible as I had been even a couple of years ago, so he sort of helped me stretch for a few seconds and then slowly eased my legs up into position. Ran his cock through my lubed-up crack and then pushed his way into me. I was so slick and so ready to be fucked that I barely felt the burn. He pinned my arms on either side of my head. Held my gaze as he drew his hips back slowly. He smiled.
And then he rammed me.
His thighs collided with my ass, creating a spray of lube that flecked both our stomachs.
I held my breath for a second, then let it all out in a sound of pure relief. “Ohhhhhhhhh.”
I rocked my hips, trying to get him in deeper.
He rubbed my lube-drenched cock with one hand and thrust again. I moaned and sighed, my head falling back.
He did it three more times. I crossed my ankles between his shoulders, and when he stopped I used my legs to tug myself against him, trying to fuck myself on his cock. My sweaty back was raw from rubbing against the carpet. My throat was dry and my balls had pulled so tight one good twist would send me over the edge.
Drix looked at me again with tenderness and wonder. “You’d do anything I said right now, wouldn’t you?”
My next breath really was a sob. “Yes.”
“Give me one good reason I should let you come.” His tone was wicked.
I tried to think of a reason that didn’t involve me. That wasn’t Because I want to. Because I need to. I tried to think of a way he would benefit from me coming, but my thoughts were scrambled, and nothing in the world was as real or immediate as my need for him to thrust again.
He stroked my throat with his lube-slick hand. “Just tell me,” he whispered.
“Because I . . . I need it.” I could barely hear my own voice.
He shifted slightly, and the reminder of his bare cock inside me—ready to hurt me or claim me or make me come—was too much.
“I need it,” I said again. “Please, please, pleasepleaseplease. No one ever does this for me. I don’t let anyone do this.”
His fingers on my throat were so gentle. He gave me one small thrust, almost like a nudge of encouragement. “Keep going.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Show me how dirty you can be.”
