by Marie James
In my head, I tip my beer to him because I’m in the same spot. I’d hoped Snatch and I could at least get our friendship back, but the last couple of months have been brutal. I don’t know what’s worse. Having him in some capacity and losing him or if my life would’ve been easier just pining after him from a distance but maintaining our friendship.
When I look up to track down the waitress for another beer, I can’t keep my eyes from sweeping the side of the bar where Snatch is.
Was.
He’s gone. My head snaps to the only exit, not seeing them, I slide off my stool, unsure of what I’ll do or say if I find them. I can always ask to participate, prove to him we can go back to the way things were. I’m willing to do that.
I wave off Snake when he begins to talk and make my way to the restroom. The chick Snatch was chatting up didn’t look like the type that would require a bed or special attention. If I were a gambling man, I’d say she was a sure thing. I head to the long, dark hallway leading to the latrine. Several couples are full-on fucking down the corridor but Snatch and his conquest for the night aren’t a part of the public lewdness.
I know one of the guys will cover my tab, so I head out the front, not bothering to stop back by the table on my way out. Our hotel is only a couple of blocks down, but I make sure not to rush. My full attention is on everything going on around me. The muggy, thick warmth of the night air sticks to my skin and clothes, leaving me agitated and too hot as I reach the outside entry of his hotel room.
I stand, waiting, for no other reason than I have no idea what to say after I knock. Hell, he could have gone back to her place. He could be fucking her in the alleyway that I didn’t bother to check on my way out. My eyes dart to my door right next to his, wondering just how bad things will be if I push this issue with him.
I wipe my hands down the front of my jeans, a last ditch effort to build the courage that’s nowhere to be found right now. I figure I have nothing to lose. Two months of not one single word, after years of everyday interaction, has been absolute torture. A punishment, if I’m going to suffer, I’m going to earn.
I clear my throat and bang on the door, making sure to take a step back so he can see me through the peephole. I may want to confront him about whatever the hell we had a few months ago, but I don’t need to fucking get shot outside of some nasty ass hotel in Central America. My pockets would be empty and boots would be stripped off my feet before my lifeless body hit the concrete.
The knock goes unanswered, so I step up and pound on the door harder. I don’t care if he’s balls fucking deep in that chick from the bar, we’re having this conversation tonight. Twice more I pound on the door, desperation filling my fists each time.
When the door is finally pulled open, I shove past him and step into his room.
“This shit ends tonight,” I mutter, rounding on him as he closes and locks the door.
I expect a fist to the face, an argument at a minimum. What I don’t expect is to see my best friend standing in his room, soaking wet and only wrapped in the thinnest of towels.
Chapter 22
Snatch
This shit ends tonight.
I almost want to laugh at his words.
He does his best to keep his eyes from my soaked torso. His efforts are futile, darting from the corners of the room and back repeatedly, without another word from him.
“Where’s your company?” he asks with a thick swallow, not even hiding the fact he’s lost his battle with looking away.
I stand, ignoring his question for the time being, willing my cock to stay in control, but I lose my own struggle as well.
“The chick?”
He nods. I want to ask him why he’s worried now. I want to remind him of all of the times I watched him leave a bar or club with some chick. Let him know how much sleep I lost imagining what he was doing to them, what he was letting them do to him.
“Don’t worry about it,” I mutter.
“Don’t,” he hisses with more backbone than I’d ever expect from him. Itchy isn’t a push over on any level, but there’s a definite dominant personality between the two of us and it sure as hell isn’t him.
I cock an eyebrow at him, daring him to challenge me, but the look in his eyes says he’s willing to face off with me, go head to head, and fuck if it doesn’t make my cock throb behind the thin, scratchy material of the hotel towel.
Defiance is twisting the corner of his mouth into a sneer, he takes another step closer to me. I stand my ground if only to lessen the time when our bodies touch.
“Did you send her away?” he asks, close enough that I can smell his cologne mixed with the tangy sweet from the beer he drank back at the bar. “Or did you fuck her in the alley and send her on her way?”
I get lost momentarily, drowning almost in the fire in his eyes. An audible groan filters out of me when his tongue inches out and wets his lips.
“Neither,” I answer with a huskiness in my voice I barely recognize. “I sent her on her way the second we stepped outside.”
I hate that he’s drawing this confession from me with no effort at all. I hate that I’m not indifferent enough to just take some random chick home and fuck her until I feel better, plow into her until sinking into her body erases the memories of sinking into his.
“You didn’t want her.” The statement doesn’t even surprise me. Intuition being one of his special skills, he’s reading me like a fucking book. “Why not?”
“I didn’t want her,” I answer without hesitation. I clutch my fingers into fists repeatedly, the tips tingling with an unnerving urge to touch him.
“No?” I shake my head in the negative. “Who then?”
“You,” I croak as his fingers tease the edge of my towel below my navel.
“That so?”
Warmth covers every inch of my skin when his deft fingers untangle the towel from my body, and it flutters to the ground. My cock, proud and thick jumps, reaching up toward the hand still resting on my stomach. Labored breathing rushes past my lips in harsh, uneven pants.
“Please,” I beg when he makes no move to ease the need flowing through my body. The simple grip of his fist around my straining cock would solve a litany of problems, every one of them in fact.
I shudder when his fingers trace the stars tattooed on my abdomen.
“That’s not how tonight is going to go,” he says close enough to my mouth that I feel the heat of his breath on my lips.
“What do you want?” I ask, stopping short of telling him I’ll give him anything he desires.
My breathing hitches when his lips brush against mine with the slightest pressure, enough to let me know he’s there but leaving me wanting so much more. I’ve licked his come from Darby’s skin, he’s sucked my cock, and taken my release into his own body, but that gentle sweep of his lips on mine seems infinitely more intimate than any other touch we’ve shared. I didn’t realize how much I needed the simple action until he had the courage to take that step.
“I’m going to fuck your mouth.” His tongue breaches his own lips, tracing the outline of mine.
It sets me on fire, the slow burn of every other interaction finally blazing with the force of a thousand forest fires. A half step forward on my part has my chest against his t-shirt and my cock resting against his own erection that’s straining in his jeans.
Our lips meet with deliberation and need like I’ve never felt before. My hands find the tangle of his hair, beard brushing against my chin. The coarseness, I realize, is something I’ve needed all along. The rough grip of his hands, one at my naked hip and the other clawing at the back of my head, only fuels the urgency of our lips as they tangle together.
“On your knees,” he insists, nipping at my bottom lip and leaving a sting sharp enough to make my breath catch.
At his command, my body buckles and I’m resting at his feet as if I’ve always belonged there. Surprise lights up his face, crinkling the skin at the corners of his eyes. He’s as sho
cked as I am to be in this position, but my mouth waters for him. It has for months. Fear of his rejection, no matter how unfounded, and my own stupidity at trying to fight what was going on between us kept me from this exact situation. I’m done fighting it. I’m done listening to the tiny voice in my head telling me to fight against the urgency I feel in my gut to own him, to be owned by him. I can no longer ignore the need my body demands to be fed. I refuse to give into the part of my past, the whispers I heard as a child that instilled the thought that what we’ve been doing is depraved and an act against God himself. I’ve got other sins I’ll need to atone for that don’t hold a candle to what I’m about to do right now.
I reach for his zipper, mouth continuing to flood with anticipation, only to have my hands knocked away.
“Your mouth,” he hisses as his zipper lowers and his strong hands pull his cock from its fabric confines.
My body trembles with near seizure like convulsions as my tongue tastes him for the first time. His body responds in kind nearly jerking from my mouth when I wrap my lips around him. The feral rumble in his chest at my eagerness as I take him too far down my throat urges me on even though I’m gagging around him.
With strength I don’t possess, he shifts his hips back allowing the relief I need.
“Fuck, so eager,” he grunts. “Go slower.”
I shake my head before muttering, “I can’t.”
I swallow him again, the pressure of my fingers digging into his thighs sure to leave marks. I work him in and out of my mouth, more with enthusiasm than skill I possess, but I can’t be fucking it up too much because he’s moaning foul, disgusting things that he wants to do to me and pumping his hips, stroking his cock along my tongue and lips as I hold my head static. He insisted he wanted to fuck my mouth, so I’m giving him the chance to take what he needs.
Unlike my reaction to him, he doesn’t take advantage, but he doesn’t ease into my waiting mouth either. There is no doubt right now who is in control. Not only is he taking from me; I’m relinquishing everything I have to him.
“Oh fuck,” he hisses just as I begin to choke on his heated flood.
My eyes water when he grips the back of my head and holds me in place, the pulse of his cock jetting his come down my throat. Greedy swallows of my working throat take all he has, feeling near bereft when he’s through. It wasn’t enough just now, and I have a sinking feeling mixing with absolute joy that it may never be enough.
“Damn it. I could fuck your mouth for hours.” Husky and barely sated, his voice and declaration make me smile as his still semi-hard cock falls wetly from my mouth.
“Yet you busted in three minutes flat.”
I remain on my knees because this is his show and I don’t know what he expects from me. Waiting for his next command, however, does not keep my hand from finding and stroking the rock hard length between my thighs.
“How do I taste?” he asks sweeping his thumb at the corner of my mouth, swiping some of his wetness. He presses his thumb against my lips, and on instinct, I open for him.
“Amazing,” I answer against his thumb.
“I hated not seeing you lick my come off of Darby’s stomach. I would’ve fed it to you directly,” he adds. “All you had to do was ask.”
His digit slips free of my mouth. “I couldn’t. I didn’t know how.”
He frowns down at me but doesn’t say anything about the lost opportunities that have plagued us for months.
“What are we going to do with that?” I follow his finger as it points to my cock, my hands still stroking it.
I grin up at him, still unsure of asking for what I need.
“Quid pro quo?” I raise my eyebrows in heated anticipation of his answer, the Latin easier to say.
“This for that, huh?” I nod. “You don’t want me to suck your cock.”
I tilt my head in confusion as he takes a step back and indicates for me to stand. I oblige, only to take another step toward him. I reach for the hem of his t-shirt and pull it over his head as he kicks off his boots and jeans, something he didn’t bother discarding while I sucked him off.
His lips meet the piercing through my nipple. The scorching heat of his mouth arrowing to my cock at the prospect of him using it there soon. Lips and teeth kiss and nip over my pectoral to my neck. I moan and ease my head to the side, giving him the access he needs to bite at the tense muscles in my neck.
“You want me to start with your cock in my mouth.” His devious words cause a cold chill to race over every exposed inch of my body. “But you want to finish buried deep in my ass.”
Fuck. I nearly come just at his words.
“Are you a mind reader now?” I chuckle when I feel his lips turn up into a smile against my skin.
“I know you, Snatch,” he pants near my mouth, his lips ghosting on the edge. “I know you’d always rather come buried deep than inside a mouth.”
I grip the back of his head, holding him against me when his lips kiss mine in earnest. My tongue sweeps his, dueling, tangling, fighting to taste every inch of his mouth. He pulls away long before I’m ready, smiling when I groan in agitation against his lips.
He breaks contact with me, and I watch as he walks to his jeans and grabs a small packet I recognize as lube from his discarded jeans.
“Prepared?” I ask as he lays it on the bedside table.
“A man can hope,” he answers, and my cock jumps at the knowledge that he’s been wanting me exactly where I’ve longed to be since Costa Rica. “The conditioner wasn’t quite enough last time.”
I frown at the thought that I may have hurt him.
“Don’t overthink it,” he mutters against my stomach, tracing my tattoos with the tip of his tongue as he lowers to his knees. “I loved every second of it.”
I groan when his tongue tastes the sensitive triangle on the underside of my cock. “I’ve been waiting, praying, hoping it would happen again.”
He punctuates each word with a heated swipe of his talented tongue. I know where I want this night to end, but if he doesn’t relinquish my cock soon, I’ll end up finishing in his mouth.
“I can’t,” I moan, still unable to move back, still unable to ask him to stop.
As if being controlled by the devil himself, he cups my sac in one hand and his other trails along my upper thigh between my legs. I nearly crumble on top of him when his finger toys with my taint and even further until he’s teasing the puckered opening an inch higher.
“Oh God,” I mutter, reaching behind me to clasp the edge of the nightstand. “I’m gonna come.”
Akin to being doused in cold water, he releases me immediately. The cool air surrounding us spreads over the wetness left by his mouth. My body wars with the change of sensation.
“That’s not what you want is it?” The devious look in his eyes informs me he’s somehow maintained his control where mine has not only waned but disappeared altogether.
I scrub at my blurry eyes with the palms of my hands. “Fuck, I don’t know what I want.”
He stands, hand still stroking my cock, enough to know he’s there but not enough to finish me off.
“Yes you do,” he whispers against my lips.
His lips and his hand leave me, and I reach for him as he turns to bend over.
“No,” I manage. “On your back, on the bed.”
Swift confusion marks his brow.
“I want my mouth on yours,” I explain grabbing the mini packet of lube and tearing the top off of it with my mouth.
“I want that, too,” he says climbing on the bed.
Stroking the lube up and down my cock, I position myself between his thighs. My free hand runs up and down the length of his rock hard cock at first before he takes over and my fingers begin their exploration of where I want to be.
“Let me in,” I mumble as his body resists my initial intrusion.
Finally, after some gentle coaxing, he relaxes. One finger is eventually joined with another and a third.
&n
bsp; “Damn it,” he pants. “That feels amazing. I can come just from that.”
“Not until I’m inside of you,” I plead.
“Hurry,” he begs, rubbing his hand up and down his length faster.
The laugh that was trying to escape turns into a hiss when my cock replaces my fingers.
“Fuck, you’re so hot.” In one slow, but uninterrupted push I invade his body, unable to control the depth of the delivery. My thighs against his, I look down and marvel at the sight of myself fully seated inside of him. I didn’t get this glorious of a view in Costa Rica.
“Move,” he demands. “Please.”
“I’ll come,” I complain, not wanting it to end anytime soon, if ever.
His hand squeezes his cock even harder, the angry head glistening with his need to come. “That’s the point.”
I huff out a laugh at his reasoning but pull my hips back. Four inches is all I allow myself to leave his body, my cock sliding against his sensitive tissues.
“Snatch!” he practically screams when my eyes stay on my unmoving cock a little too long.
Urged into action, I slide back in and out several times. The grunt that leaves his lips pulls my eyes to his. Heavy with lust, they plead with me to put us both out of our misery, so I do. I slam into him repeatedly until he’s a mess of sensation wiggling under me.
“I’m going to come for you,” he confesses. Just like in Costa Rica, the throb of his own orgasm rips mine to the surface.
“For you,” I cry out as my release rips from my body in an almost satanic explosion.
Still inside of him, I lean forward and brush my lips against his, my first initiation of a kiss, one I couldn’t resist even if I wanted to, which I don’t.
“I wanted to kiss you while I fucked you,” I say with an apology.
