Revived (The Dungeon Black Duology 2)

Wow. That was a biggie.

Max’s dick bucked once more as if chomping at the bit, as he watched Sean ride out the brutal blitz. Just like the others, some thirty seconds later, Sean finally dropped down in a haze.

Eyes peeling open, he laughed through ragged pants. “Fuck—Sir—Fuck.”

Max leaned forward. “You like that?”

Drunk nod. “God, yes.”

Max regarded the sander. Sean had pushed it halfway out. Damn. Strong rectum. Max’s brain detoured, envisioning Sean’s ass milking his cock. Max’s entire package thrummed. He squeezed it with a growl, then pushed that handle back into place.

“Alright, a stór. I think you’re good to go.”

“No. Wait. Please,” Sean panted. “Maximus, please.”

Max watched him low-key trembling. “Yes?”

“Please jack my cock. Need to shoot my load so bad.”

Max chuckled. “No way. You’ve got tons more coming. I haven’t even made my first call.”

Sean loosed a shaky groan as a larger shudder racking him. Another would be hitting him soon.

Max grabbed his phone from his desk, but then paused and looked back at Sean. “That was four, by the way. You’re supposed to be counting. Forget again and you’ve bought yourself extra time.”

Sean hissed out a curse.

Max started to dial. “Oh, and one more thing.”

Sean eyed him, rocking his hips.

“Stay super quiet. Don’t want my clients to hear you. If they do, there’ll be repercussions for that, too.”

Something flickered in Sean’s eyes that looked a little like panic. Max fought back a laugh and finished dialing the number, then pulled up his client’s account on his laptop. The other end started ringing. Sean emitted an urgent sound, one Max knew all too well. Someone was getting ready to come again. He glanced Sean’s way. He was full-fledged shaking, his cheeks clenching feverishly around that handle. Oh, yeah. Another one was coming fast.

Sean’s wild eyes met Max’s. He held them firm, then pressed a finger to his lips and mouthed, “Shhh.”

Which, of course, had Sean choking back an exasperated laugh before firing back a silent, “Fuck you.”

A sentiment that just so happened to be Sean’s last as his mighty O finally descended. Perfect timing, too. Max’s client just picked up.

“Hey, Max.”

Max bit his cheek. “Hey, Don. Hold on.”

Sean’s eyes shot wide. He started to quake.

Max lifted his brows expectantly.

“Five,” Sean mouthed through pinched features.

Good boy.

Sean’s ass shot up, his lids slamming tight. Then his gorgeous taint got back to dancing. Max bit his lip, feeling drunk as he watched him go, the sight making him want to fucking pounce. He squeezed his raging boner, heart pounding steadily faster. Maybe doing this during calls wasn’t so smart.

Max cleared his throat, his voice thick with desire. “Okay. Sorry ‘bout that. How you doing, Don?”

“Not bad. How ‘bout you?”

Sean clenched his teeth, grimacing deeper.

“Doing good.” Really good. Max swiveled his chair to face Sean fully, propping his feet on Sean’s armrests.

And wow, speaking of feet, Sean’s were flexing like a champ, his toes curled into tight little balls. Sean gasped for breath, then pursed his lips as another heady moan tried to escape. Max’s sander was making a break for it, too. Not going to happen, though. Not on Max’s watch. He eased it back with his toes. Sean’s eyes squeezed tighter. His mouth fell open. Max bit back another growl. Oh, fuck. He needed to be inside Sean. Needed in so fucking bad. But that’d totally defeat his whole agenda. Taking Sean hard, claiming him again, wouldn’t dissuade Sean. It’d fucking encourage him.

“So, lemme guess. You finished my piece.”

“Yeah.” Max straightened. “Just tonight. Sent the invoice. You can pick it up anytime.”

Sean slumped back down, chest heaving, jaw slack, looking way too exhausted to even open his eyes.

“Awesome. Can’t wait. My old man’s gonna love it. Cool if I swing by sometime on Saturday?”

Tiny little aftershocks rolled through Sean’s frame. God, he looked good enough to eat.

“Sure. Just hit me up when you’re heading over.”

“Will do. Talk to you then.”

“Alright, man. Take it easy.”

Max ended the call.

Sean opened his eyes. “That, Sir,” he shivered, a smile tugging at his lips, “was not very fucking nice.”

Max grinned. Such a trooper. “I’m sorry you feel that way, because unfortunately, I still have two more calls to go.”

Sean choked out a laugh, then groaned through a shudder. And so it went for another ten minutes. But it wasn’t Max’s fault that it took so long. Mrs. Conroy was a talker. He’d barely gotten a word in edgewise. He was pretty sure, though, that during the detailed account of her daughter’s birthday party, Sean came at least four more times. And Max had drunk in the sight of every one of them.

God, Sean’s face, that look of vicious rapture, as O after O relentlessly ravished him. Brows crushed together. Teeth clenched. Veins straining. Lungs panting wildly—or locked up tight, holding his breath.

But it wasn’t until the climax count was well into the double digits that Max truly noticed them taking their toll. On Sean’s body, on Sean’s sanity. Siphoning his energy. The spirited spark in his eyes visibly faltering.