The Queen & the Homo Jock King (At First Sight 2)

“Good boy,” I said, running my hand up the length of his cock. It felt spit-slick and hot in my hand. “Now, where was I?”

I took his dick in my mouth again, fisting the base and jacking him slowly. I opened up my throat and took him in down to my fingers, my nose brushing against his pubes. He groaned, his hands twitching at his sides, obviously fighting the urge to reach out and take control. That poor, sweet boy. Probably college frat boy, from the way he moved. All cocky and confident, thinking he was the one in control. After all, he was the one getting his dick sucked.

But in all my years of experience, I’ve learned it’s the one doing the sucking that’s in control. And that’s what I liked. That’s what she liked. Helena Handbasket didn’t have a goddamn submissive bone in her body.

Unless she wanted it there, of course.

He was getting close, I could tell. The muscles in his stomach were jumping underneath his tight shirt. His hands were fisted now at his sides. His thighs were trembling, the poor dear. He’d probably go back to his frat house with my lipstick rings around his dick and tell himself he’d fucked that queen good, that he really gave it to her hard. But in the back of his tiny little mind, he’d wonder just how little control of the situation he’d had.

And he’d be right.

Someone else came into the back room, but I ignored them. At least until they’d pressed against the frat guy above me at his side. I was annoyed, and I glared up through my false eyelashes, trying to relay my disdain with a dick in my mouth. It was a look I’d mastered many times over.

But the new guy was rubbing the chest of the frat boy, their faces pressed together, still hidden in s

hadow. They were kissing, so either I was blowing someone’s boyfriend or they were really close in this frat house. I wasn’t in the mood to double fist or have multiple cocks in my face, at least not tonight. Whatever. He was going to come and then I’d leave him with—

The cock in my mouth jerked when the man moaned, “Sandy.”

I immediately pulled off the dick because what and who the fuck was this guy to know my real name? I was in drag. I wasn’t fucking Sandy.

“Excuse me?” I snapped, voice croaky and hoarse from exertion. His dick jerked again and brushed against my cheek.

“Close,” he said as his friend sucked on his ear. “So close, just—”

And then he leaned forward to touch my face, to pull me back onto his dick.

Vincent Melody Taylor grinned down at me as his precome smeared against my lips. “Come on. Just finish. I’m so close.”

“Yeah,” his buddy said. “Come on. You know you want to finish. And then it’s my turn.”

And I knew that voice.

That motherfucking voice.

Darren Mayne.

The Homo Jock King.

Who was sucking on Vince’s neck.

His half brother.

I said, “Sweet baby Jesus, this is some hot fucked-up shit right here.”

“Look,” Vince said, dick still bobbing free. “It’s cool. We’re all friends here.”

“And some of us are related,” I pointed out, like I was being helpful.

“Yeah,” Darren said. “But we have different mothers, so it’s cool. It’s not completely illegal.”

“That should not be a decider in an incestuous three-way,” I said.

“Or is it the best decider?” Vince groaned as Darren did something fancy with his tongue.

“You love Paul,” I accused him, anger flaring. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Yeah,” Paul said, appearing in a puff of smoke for some reason. “What the hell are you doing without me?” And then it just got weirder as Paul began to strip. “Someone suck on my nipples,” he demanded as he pulled his shirt over his head. “They’re very sensitive.”