Page 19 of Bite Me
“Fuck,” I gasped. My voice was as shredded as my restraint. Sweat dripped off my forehead and landed on Mark’s bare back, sliding down the cleft of his ass. His spine jerked with every snap of my hips.
My balls slapped against him, and fake blood spattered his ass and the concrete below, dark as black cherries in the dim alcove and all the more arousing for it, like visceral evidence of how mercilessly we were taking each other apart.
I was losing it, felt the edge racing toward me at white-hot speed to torch me and turn my insides to dust. My hips stuttered, and my thrusts grew rougher. I bit down on the corner of Mark’s lip hard enough to taste copper and then emptied myself into him in a flood of euphoria.
It was raw and ugly.
It was real.
I sucked at his lower lip again, then pulled off, breathless, and drove my cock into him one last time, a claiming thrust as a final punctuation mark that I wasn’t done with him. Ever.
Mark gave me barely a second’s reprieve. The minute my cock stopped twitching inside him, he wrenched free of me and shoved me to my knees. I hardly felt the concrete beneath them. I gazed up at him, lips parted, then slowly opening. I knew what was coming, and I wanted it.
Mark’s fingers tangled through my hair, yanking my open mouth to his cock. I groaned around the flushed head as he pushed into me. It was hard and fast, and my eyes immediately started watering as I tried to keep up.
I choked a little and instead of pulling back, Mark drove deeper, reveling in the noise. The taste of him coated my tongue. I lost myself in the rhythm, embracing the sensation of being used for his pleasure the same way I’d just used him.
“Fuck yes. Swallow it.” His teeth flashed in a garishly streaked mouth as he bucked deep enough to make me gag again. A tremor traveled all the way up my throat and tightened around him. In seconds his muscles locked up, and he unleashed with a shudder, cock buried in my throat and my nose mashed against his stomach. He flooded me until there was nowhere for it to go, and I swallowed reflexively at the same time I sputtered.
Spit and cum slid down my chin and onto my hand where it fisted the base of him. I kept swallowing, throat spasming around him and wringing him dry.
When he was done, Mark rubbed his spent cock against my tongue, savoring the aftershocks. Then, he finally let go of my hair.
I eased back, mouth drenched and tender, and wiped my lips with the back of my hand. He sank to the floor beside me.
We caught our breath in that fucked-up version of a comedown, serenaded by screams, chainsaws, and some dude who passed by yelling, “riotous!” over and over. I was pretty sure it was Max Tanner, one of Mark’s fraternity brothers that I shared a class with. Not my favorite guy, but whatever.
Mark cocked his head at the sound and then peered sidelong at me. “Fucking Max,” he said with a roll of his eyes, confirming, and we both cracked up.
I checked the status of my limbs, wiggling my toes and fingers to make sure they were still attached to my body, thenattempted to haul up my briefs. I slowed, catching Mark’s stricken expression.
“What?” I asked, concern freezing me up. For a split second, I worried I’d hurt him. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d ever fucked him so hard before.
“It looks like a fucking crime scene in here.”
I blinked free of my post-orgasmic fugue and looked around. Fake blood streaked Mark’s arms, chest, and quads. It was on the wall and on my hands, covering my thighs and my toes. Messy as shit, red and slick. “Welook like a crime scene. Like Ed Gein celebrating a successful grave run or something.”
“We look like we need an exorcism.”
“Or a funeral.”
“We look like theCarrieshower scene.”
“Fuck, that’s so wrong.” Mark laughed and smeared a hand down his face, trying to hide a sleepy grin, but only succeeding in streaking more blood across his cheek. “God, imagine if my dad had seen this on camera.”
We both cracked up again, even though a little knot formed in my stomach at the recollection of that incident months ago. We’d come a long way since then. Tonight was proof of that. “He’d try to have us committed or something.”
“For sure.” Mark nodded, then glanced around again. “Shit, what do we do?”
“Um.” I made a quick assessment, which was basically just another survey of the fake-blood-drenched alcove, but enough to determine my answer. “I have no fucking clue.” There was nothing remotely close to a towel back here. Not even a scrap of goddamn fabric, much less a paper towel—unless you counted our clothing, and it was already pretty much ruined.
“You’re the smart one here.”
“Debatable at the moment.” It felt like the two remaining brain cells left after I’d blown my load had congratulated themselves for surviving and then decided to take a nap.
Mark sucked his lower lip between his teeth, thinking, then popped up with more energy than I could dream of mustering. “I’ve got it. Stay right here.”
Before I could ask him what his grand plan was, he slipped between the plastic sheeting and was gone. I tried to put myself back together in the meantime. My toga was a fucking disaster, completely covered in red splotches and even a handprint rather inconveniently placed over my crotch. I turned the whole thing inside out and refastened it, which was a little better.