Broken Compass

“Jesus fuckin Christ!” His hand tangles in my hair, tugging almost painfully as his hips jerk up, his other hand fisting in the covers. “Do that again.”

His eagerness makes me smile. He’s like a kid who just discovered ice cream.

And I’ve just discovered I like drawing that reaction from him. He tastes salty, but when I lick the small slit that’s beading with liquid, it’s sweet and nutty.

He moans, so I do it again, and his hand clenches harder in my hair. “God. Fuck. Please.”

“You like this,” I whisper. His cock is like a candy cane, all white and pink, thick and long, and I decide it’s time to taste him properly.

Taking him in my hand, I suck the soft head into my mouth, my tongue tracing the underside, and he goes wild, bucking on the bed, back arching up.

“Holy shit! Fuck.” His hand clenches in my hair as he writhes. “I’m sorry, I just can’t… can’t control it. So good.”

That makes me suck harder on his hard-on, and the need in my belly grows painful. There’s a pulse, a heartbeat thundering between my legs, deep inside me.

He struggles to keep still, his head thrown back, eyes closed, hips rocking up with every bob of my head.

I love it. Love that I’m making him feel good. It’s so hot, seeing his strong body tensing, tasting saltiness from his hard cock, feeling muscles in his thighs bunching. He’s so… masculine, despite the fine lines of his face and his soft mouth. So sexy when he’s chasing after his pleasure, his stomach tightening, his movements turning frantic.

He’s fucking my mouth, and I think I’m going to come just with the friction of my lacy underwear against my clit, the rough material sliding between my wet folds. So wet… I want him inside me, I want his hard cock to fill me up.

Swallowing around his cock, I glide my hand upward, feeling his abs ripple under my palm. He’s panting, sweat slicking his skin as he struggles to control the movements of his hips.

I’ve no experience with this sort of thing—with sex, say it, Syd—but I’m pretty sure he’s losing the battle. That he’s losing all control and is about to come.

Something has me glancing to the side, out of the corner of my eye—a small noise, a shifting shadow?

Nate’s standing at the half-open door, watching us. He has one arm braced on the door frame, his hand shoved inside his black boxer briefs, moving. He’s stroking himself, I realize, jerking off to the sight of us, and his gaze is burning with hunger and yearning.

I gasp, tighten my hold on Kash’s cock, and he groans out loud. “Fuck, Syd.”

Bitter, salty cum fills my mouth, and I swallow convulsively, then pull back when another jet hits the back of my throat, letting it spill all over his stomach. He’s arched like a bow, face locked in a grimace, his hips jerking as he comes and comes.

It’s so hot that pleasure hits me, the pressure between my legs uncoiling and bursting. I moan, caught by surprise at the suddenness of it, the intensity. I find myself half-sprawled over Kash, his softening cock trapped between our sweaty bodies, his cum gluing us together.

And I don’t mind. A surge of affection hits me when his hand untangles from my curls and strokes the top of my head, when his other hand comes to rest on my back, warm and heavy. His heart is thumping so fast under my ear.

I force one eye open and squint at the door. The doorway is now dark and empty. Nate’s gone.

Was he really there? Or did I imagine it?

“Shit, girl.” Kash shivers. “Did I… hurt you? Kinda… lost control there.”

I like how he can’t catch his breath. “Was it okay? I’ve never blown a guy before.”

A chuckle makes his chest jump. “Never… had anyone suck me off… before.”

I lift my head, open-mouth. “Shut up. I don’t believe you. You’re a twenty-one-year-old male. I bet you had girls before. A girlfriend, even.”

And the thought stops me, a flare of pain hitting me. Oh come on. I’m jealous?

“Never had time for a girlfriend on the run,” he mutters, “and I’m nineteen, I’m not… fuck.” He closes his eyes. “Fuck.”

What? Wait a minute… I sit up between his legs, frowning down at him, my mind whirring away with a thousand thoughts. “But you told Nate… you said you were twenty when we met. Nate saw your ID.”

He says nothing, his jaw clenched. He looks like he wants to rewind the last minute, and is furious that he can’t. Furious at himself for letting this slip.

Because it’s the truth, isn’t it? A piece of the puzzle that is Kash.