Barred Desires (The Deepest Desires 1)
Luca
This isunlike anything I’ve experienced before. He’s tighter than any pussy I’ve ever been in, and it’s work to not come as soon as I’m sheathed to the hilt.
When I asked earlier, I truly didn’t think he’d ever bottomed. I certainly didn’t expect him to say yes to doing it for me on the spot.
Fuck, I’m happy he did, though.
“Luca, I need you to move,” Branson groans from underneath me.
Pulling out to the tip, I thrust into him, causing us to moan together. Fuck, this feels so good.
“You look so fucking sexy taking me like this.”
Gripping his hips so tight, there are sure to be marks tomorrow, I start rolling my hips into him hard and fast. The sensation is glorious. Our bodies fit together like puzzle pieces.
“Ah, fuck, Luca. Yes, ahhh, yes, right there.”
Tossing one of his legs over my shoulder, I continue my brutal pace. His eyes are rolling back, his cheeks and neck are so flushed, and his cock is leaking for me.
“Shit, Branson. Fuck, you feel so good.”
He’s gripping the sheets beside him so hard, his knuckles are white, and he lets out the sexiest low, throaty groan that goes straight to my balls, causing them to tighten up.
“Oh my God, I’m… I’m going to come, fuckkk,” he moans. I watch in pure fascination as his untouched cock explodes in a hot rush of cum all over his stomach and chest.
Holy shit.
I didn’t know that was possible.
That’s fucking hot.
Looking at the mess he made all over himself—because of me—and the way his ass is still pulsing tightly around me, I can’t hold back my own release any longer. I throw my head back in ecstasy and roar out as I erupt deep inside of him.
“Holy shit.” I’m panting as I slide out of him, trying desperately to catch my breath.
“Holy shit is right.”
Taking one look at each other, we both laugh, before I lean down and lock my lips with his in a kiss full of so much passion, it almost brings tears to my eyes.
“That was fucking incredible. Mind-blowing.”
“Uh, yeah. I’ll gladly let you fuck me again.”
After I go get us a warm washcloth to clean up, we get dressed. He looks hot as fuck in an old band tee and his grey sweats that hang dangerously low on his hips and do nothing to hide his dick print. His hair is messy in a just fucked type of way, and his cheeks are still slightly flushed.
He’s a sight to behold, and he’s mine.
He shoots me a cocky smirk when he catches me checking him out. “I’m fucking starving. Let’s go downstairs and grab some food.”
I laugh at that, because, same.
* * *
It’s day five.
Dad has been in a coma for five days now. The doctors are going to try and bring him out of it today and see how he does. This is a big deal, and I’m so goddamn nervous about it. I need him to be okay.
Sarah, Branson, and I are all getting ready to head to the hospital, and the house is thick with tension and nerves. All of us want to be the face of positivity and be the strength between us, but at the same time, we’re all scared.
With good reason, too.
As I’m pulling on my sweatshirt, I hear the doorbell ring.
“I’ll get it, boys,” Sarah yells from downstairs.
Who could be here this early? Branson and I both look at each other and shrug our shoulders.
“C’mere,” Branson says, pulling me into his hard, warm chest.
Inhaling his manly, fresh scent, I wrap my arms tight around his torso. I will never get tired of his smell. He doesn’t even wear cologne most days, and he still smells absolutely amazing.
“How are you doing?” he asks in between placing kisses atop my head.
“Eh, I’m… I’m really nervous, Bran.” I decide to go with honesty. Letting my guard down and being vulnerable with him comes so naturally now, as if we’ve been here, like this, for years.
Squeezing me in his embrace a little tighter, he says, “I am too, but we have to stay positive. He’s strong, Luca. He’s going to come out of this.”
“Thank you, Branson.”
“For what?”
“Literally everything. For being here for me. For loving me. For giving us a chance. Everything. Just, thank you.”
He makes me feel safe, grounded, like I can handle anything. I don’t think he’ll ever truly understand how much I appreciate him, but I’ll gladly spend my life trying to show him.
“Hey, guys, can you come down here?” Sarah asks from somewhere downstairs.
Making our way down, we spot Sarah, who’s holding an envelope and what looks like a polaroid. “What’s up? What’s that?”
Looking like she’s trying to fight back a laugh, she hands it to us. “Take a look. It looks like you have a secret admirer.”
The envelope is empty, so it must have contained only the picture—which, upon glancing at it, is a picture of Branson and I kissing. We’re in the car, and from what I can tell, we’re parked outside of this house.
What the fuck?
Flipping it over, I can see handwriting on the back: