Wrath (Sinful Secrets 4)

He pops off my dick and whispers, “Pull my hair if you want.”

“What do you want?” I laugh, and it turns into a groan as his hand tugs on my balls.

“I like it,” he breathes, and then he takes me deep into his velvet-soft throat. It feels so good, I give in and grip his hair. “Mills…”

He goes harder, faster, with his cheeks sucked in and his tongue curling and his lips rubbing up and down my shaft. Mills does this thing where his tongue thumps a few times right under my cockhead. Chills prickle over my body. Then his tongue wraps around my dick.

As his fingers work my balls just right, I feel the pressure of his tongue’s tip in that little slit where precum’s oozing. His tongue laps around me as his hand starts pumping my shaft faster. His hand on my balls squeezes again, and it’s all over.

I come like a fucking star exploding. It’s uncontrollable. I don’t think I’ve ever blown so hard. I’m steamrolled by pleasure, groaning as it grips me everywhere—and I can feel Mills swallowing. My shaking hand goes to his throat, and I can feel him inhale between swallows. I try to pull out, make it easy on him, but he sucks me deeper.

Pretty soon, he’s got me milked dry. My dick’s still buzzing, my balls pulsing with bliss as I run my hands down Miller’s shirt-clad shoulders. I shift my hips so I can rub between his legs with my knee, and I find his cock hard as all hell.

I run my fingers through his hair. “Somebody wants it.”

“Need it,” he rasps. “But you might be sore from the floor.” His eyes search mine, looking concerned, even as they’re glazed and sagging shut.

“Shut the fuck up, Millsy.”

I laugh and pull off my shirt, ball it up and hand it to him. “Lie on your back. Pants down, knees up like a good boy.”

I’m surprised to find he’s wrong—despite the screaming post-game soreness in every fucking muscle I have, my dick and brain have never felt so good. I want to help him feel this good, too.

I feel my dick perk up again as he pulls his cock out, works his briefs and his shorts down to his quads. Goddamn, those balls. That whole fucking package.

“You’re hung like a horse, Josh Miller.” I get on my knees between his legs, pulling my boxers and my shorts back up over my boner.

“Don’t do that,” he says.

“It got its turn.” I smile. Then I run my hands over his long legs—such thick muscle, such soft skin…his little fine hairs, gold from being in the sun…and when I trace a finger up beside his heavy ball sac, Miller fucking shudders, and he makes this soft gasp sound.

Nearly makes me come again the way his cock juts higher as his balls draw up before my damn eyes.

“Oh, baby. I’m about to suck you dry. You’re gonna come so hard you can’t see straight. I can give you a finger, too.”

His cum-buzzed face stills, as if he’s thinking on that, and I start to lick my middle finger. “Only if you want it.”

He nods, holding my gaze, and this warm burst spreads through my chest—because he’s mine. This perfect boy is all mine. His cheeks flush, and I realize he looks almost guilty.

“Do you want it?” I murmur, and he nods.

“Before us, did you ever practice with something?” I whisper.

His cheeks flame up so damn red. My dick throbs and my balls tighten as he rasps, “My finger. A time or two.”

“Oh Jesus, Mills. You wanna do it yourself?” I would fucking love to see him fill his bottom with one of those nice, thick fingers.

“You,” he whispers. He’s shut his eyes and now he’s stroking his cock slowly. “Fuck, Ez—it’s like I’m buzzing…”

“Yeah, you’ve got a cum buzz. Lemme in here…” I scoot closer, urging his knees wider. I cup his balls, tickle my fingertips over his big sac. That makes him shudder again.

“Fuck,” he whimpers.

“Sensitive, are we?”

“They got sore.”

“You get hard blowing me?”

“So hard.” He flexes his legs, which makes that round ass flex. I lean down and gobble back his fat erection. I suck him in deep, until my throat hurts like hell, and he moans and his hips buck.

“I’m sorry,” he slurs.

I suck my cheeks in around him as I lift his balls out of the way. I let my finger tease his crack as I swallow him past the point that I think I can take him, deep enough so that I’m almost choking and saliva’s flowing. Then I close my eyes and really focus, blowing him the way I think would feel good to me.

I’m proud of how fast I’m able to get him close—too close. He’s writhing around and gripping the back of my head, saying, “oh fuck” over and over like a drunken sing-song.