Wrath (Sinful Secrets 4)

“I put a finger in your hole, Mills.”

I shut my eyes, and his hand strokes my knee.

“You embarrassed?”

“No,” I answer honestly. “It felt good.”

He reaches his hand into the leg of my shorts and starts jerking me slowly, like he’s just toying around, but I realize as I’m about to come that this was always his goal. Just when I’m so amped up I can’t control myself—I’m gonna come—his free hand pulls my shorts and briefs down. He gives me a few more jerks, and I come all over his chest. He’s grinning like the damn Cheshire Cat as he smears his finger through it and tastes.

“You taste good.” He smirks, this time failing to pull off the full effect and looking kind of silly. “Just another thing good…” He lifts a brow, and my heart presses against my chest in a way that makes it hard to breathe.

“And now you’re blushing,” he whispers.

“Shut up, red ears.”

He grins, looking guilty. He sits up and wipes his hand over the mess on his abs. Then he tugs on his sweatshirt and smears it in the inside pocket, which makes me laugh.

“Oh my God.”

He shakes his head. “We’re animals.”

I notice he’s hard again and move for his dick, but he catches my hand, kissing it before he starts to get up.

“We’ve gotta get dressed,” he murmurs. “What if someone found us?”

"If you’re sure you can walk."

He tucks himself into the waist of his boxers, then reaches down and helps me to my feet. We straighten ourselves up with smirks and little funny smiles. When we’re decent, his eyes catch mine and hold them. I can’t read what’s on his face, but I think he looks content.

Eleven

Ezra

I let Mills suck my dick. And it felt amazing. His mouth didn’t feel like any memory, and his hands on me were so good. I came like fucking crazy—and he swallowed.

I think about that as we walk home. I’ve got his load in me, and there’s some of me in him.

I’m not sure if I can look at him. I don’t know what to say. I feel kind of fucked up, and my throat is too tight. I want him to know how much I—

I don’t know what I’m trying to say. To think.

As we walk into the driveway, I reach out and catch his hand again. Give it a squeeze. DG’s face is fucking glowing as he turns toward me. I glance around; of course, no one is here. I bring his hand to my mouth, brush my lips over his knuckles. His cheeks go red as hell.

I guess I’m smiling big, because he whispers, “What?”

I let his hand go and pinch one of his cheeks. And then I kiss it. Quick as hell, and afterward, my stomach twists until he looks around and murmurs, “No one saw.”

I lean in closer and inhale in his direction. “You smell good, Mills.”

“You taste good,” he whispers.

“We both taste like Bubble Yum.”

“That fucking duck,” he smiles.

“You like the duck?” I ask him.

“Just think it’s funny.”

“Keeps it poppin’,” I say.

He snickers. “What?”

“That’s the slogan.”

“No it’s not.”

“It is, too,” I tell him. “That’s what the duck said.”

“I don’t think ducks can talk, Ez.”

“That one did. In old commercials. I swear.”

“Did he?” Mills looks mystified as we walk up the porch stairs.

I’m unlocking the door when I look over my shoulder to smirk at him. No real reason. Just like to smirk at Mills. I find him smiling—this little crooked smile—and I want to leave the keys there in the door and turn around and hug him so damn tight.

I don’t hug him on the porch, but when we step inside, I can’t stop myself. I kiss him once more, too, dragging my tongue against his, running my fingers into the soft hair at the back of his head. I squeeze his nape, the kind of squeeze that always feels good to me when sports massage people do it.

“Get dinner with me,” I whisper.

DG’s blue eyes widen, and I laugh, because I’m as surprised as he is by my request. “Let’s get pizza and then watch a movie,” I say.

His face changes so he looks more guarded, and he moves back a little, which makes my hand lose its grip on his hair.

“What do you want to watch?” he murmurs.

“It can be anything,” I tell him.

Say yes.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m holding the front door open for him. We’re stepping out onto the porch together, Mills in ripped jeans and a magenta Rocky Horror T-shirt. He got a quick shower while I fumbled around in my room, looking for the “Praise Be, Bitches” shirt I got from a girl I knew.

I lock the door and stride ahead of him to open the passenger door of my Jeep. He pauses before getting in, squinting at my shirt.