Wrath (Sinful Secrets 4)

“I kept looking at you,” he whispers.

“I kept looking at you,” I say. “Couldn’t take my eyes off for a second. It was honestly...an art. Every week, I feel surprised again. And nervous again. But mostly surprised. You’re like a machine.”

He backs out of the parking spot. Then he takes my hand and squeezes. Then he brings it to his dick.

“Feel that machine?” he murmurs, pressing me against him.

“Oh shit.”

He lifts his hips—even as he’s driving us out of the lot.

“You’re so hard,” I laugh.

“I want you.”

“I want you too,” I tell him. “Pull over at the baseball field.”

I play with his dick till we get there, snickering at how hard he is.

“You’re already halfway there,” I tell him. “And so am I now.”

Ez leans over, rubbing me, so we’re rubbing each other as he parks behind a tall shrub.

I consider jerking him, but I want to taste him, to feel his soft cockhead in my mouth. I suck him in, and I’m rewarded by him tasting all salty and slick at the tip.

“Fuck,” I whisper, pulling off him. “You taste so good.”

I know I should make this fast, reduce the risk of getting seen, but I can’t help giving him some slow licks all around the rim of his head and that little soft spot on the underside. I know it’ll drive him crazy, and it does. He’s holding my head, groaning. When I start to pump his shaft, I reach my middle finger down to rub over his balls, and I can feel them drawn-up, tight and ready.

I lower my free hand to hold them, squeezing just a little, and he groans, “Mills,” and comes in a hot burst down my throat. His body shudders, and he groans again and wraps an arm around my back.

“Oh fuck.”

I lift my head and tuck him back into his boxers and his shorts, and Ezra wraps his arm around me again. He pulls me closer, kisses my throat, where I like it most. When my stomach feels all topsy-turvy and my dick is aching in my shorts, he reaches inside and starts pumping me.

“Get in your seat,” he rasps, and I do, and he leans down and pulls my dick out, wraps his mouth around it.

I have the idea that he might be too tired to blow me, but he does an all-star job, and I come in about forty seconds. When he’s finished swallowing, he hugs me long and hard before he sits back up and wipes his mouth.

“Best post-game meal I ever had.”

That makes me laugh.

“You embarrassed?” He looks charmed.

“Uh, I think maybe.”

He kisses my cheek and cranks the Jeep up again. “Where you wanna go, Millsy?”

“What about you? Are you tired?”

He laughs. “Maybe a little.”

“What about home? We could watch a movie?”

“Won’t your mom think that’s weird?” he asks.

“Hmm. You could say you’re tired. I could say I’m gonna turn in early. Would that be weird?” I ask him.

“Let’s go for a little while? Just so we don’t raise suspicions?”

“Good point. Or...we could not go. And they just think we did. You want to go somewhere completely different?”

He takes my hand. “Anywhere. That it can just be us.”

We go to one of the boat marinas on the south side of town. It’s got a parking lot shaded by trees that are all grown up with kudzu. There’s a tranquil lake view, and if somebody sees a lone Jeep parked here, it won’t ring alarm bells. The place is basically a parking lot for cars and boat trailers.

At this hour, it’s deserted, just like I figured it would be. There’s only two working streetlights in the parking lot, casting the place in soft, gold light. We get out and walk quietly down to the water.

There’s a tree with big roots I think we can sit on, but Ezra sinks down first, ass-planting in the sand. He looks up at me, and I sit by him. He’s got his legs stretched out in front of him. I sit cross-legged and he takes my hand into his lap.

He squeezes it a few times, almost giving it a massage.

“I should do that to you,” I tell him. I take his right hand, rubbing everywhere I think might feel good, and he slumps against me, making soft, moan sounds that—not surprisingly—get my dick up again.

He wraps his left arm around my waist, and I try to snap-shot the moment in my memory: the sound of water lapping at the shore and boat docks. The smear of moonlight on the water and the feel of Ezra wrapped around me, hugging me tight, leaning on me like he’s mine to hold. Like we’re a couple.

“Whatcha thinking about?” he asks softly.

I smile. “Feeling like we’re a couple,” I confess.

“We are. You’re my Miller.” He hugs me tighter. “I can’t let you go.”