Page 14 of Broken Highway (Cult Boys #1)

The weight of his body shifts forward. He lets out a groan that rolls into an open-mouthed moan. I grab him by the hips and pull him back, hold him still, as I continue to inch forward until I’m buried to my knuckle.

I’ve seen enough asses—felt enough asses—to be able to spot an untouched one. He wasn’t lying. I think myself privileged enough to be the one to show him a whole new world.

He crawls forward on the bed, his belt clanking against the metal frame. I make quick work removing his shoes first and then ripping the jeans free from his body. He lies before me, arms stretched above his head, hands digging into his pillow.

I use the back of my forearm to wipe a sheen of sweat from my forehead.

I plant a trail of kisses up the length of his sweaty back, ending the journey with a soft kiss against the nape of his neck.

He cranes his head to the side and then slightly backward like he’s expecting to catch a kiss on the lips.

But he’s out of luck. I can surrender my body to anyone, but there’s something far too intimate about a kiss.

Makes me think of all the times I kissed Kevin.

All the times I didn’t want to kiss him.

All the times he made me do it anyway. When he was done with me, when he was still be inside me, he would reward me with a kiss for being a good boy.

The first time he kissed me, I was seventeen.

By that point, I’d kissed twenty grown men. None of them because I wanted to.

Seven’s wanting lips beg for it though. The best I can do is a finger patting at his bottom lip, prying his mouth open enough to slip inside.

He inhales sharply, creating a vacuum around my finger.

His tongue runs against my flesh, and I swear I can feel his heartbeat through his wanton mouth.

I reach down to his ass. Run my entire palm over his hot hole.

Slip my middle finger inside and push through a ring of resistance.

He gasps—and the sound sends a jolt running through me.

My cock jumps, slapping against his ass.

I push in deeper, my knuckle the only barrier preventing me from easing my way all the way inside him.

His mouth hangs open, almost panting as I flick in a circular motion.

Opening him wider. Preparing him for what comes next.

That thing I know he can feel gyrating against his flesh—my cock.

Throbbing and running out of patience, slicking his skin in pools of leaking precum.

I jump from the bed, grab the new bottle of lube from the other bed, tear off the plastic covering, and push my boxers down my thighs until they pool at my feet. My cock springs free, slicked in salty precum and even saltier sweat. When I’m away from him, when I’m standing over him, my head throbs.

Mama was right, and that’s something I’ll only ever think just this once.A raging cock is truly the cure for the worst headache.

I tear open the box of condoms and slip a foiled rubber between my teeth. Seven exhales sharply as he watches me slam the bottle of lube onto the nightstand. I step to the base of the bed, giving my hard cock a few tugs along the way.

Sweat rolls off my back, dripping down over the curve of my ass.

I can feel the wetness on every part of my body.

Drenched in an inferno of lust. Seven peeks at me over his shoulder with eyes torn between an insatiable hunger and a tinge of reluctance.

His hips roll forward and back. It’s a familiar sight.

One I’m all too used to. Humping the bed as he waits with the patience of a Karen waiting for her dinner.

The mattress sinks around the weight of my knees as I climb onto the bed. I grab him by the hips and pull him to his hands and knees. His ass glistens. Sways back and forth, and when I slide the thong to the side, his exposed hole comes into view. Contracting over and over again, inviting me in.

I tear the foil wrapper with my teeth, rip the condom out of the packet, and roll it down the length of my throbbing cock. He looks over his shoulder with labored breathing and watches as I slick my condom-covered cock with a palm full of silicone lube.

“Just breathe.” I place a firm hand upon the small of his back, holding him in place.

The head of my cock spreads his cheeks and presses against his opening. He lets out a sharp exhale and then falls silent as a sink into him slowly. He stretches around my width, slowly swallowing me. I break through the ring of tightness and feel him tense up, so I still myself for a moment.

Once he’s used to my thickness, he’s a natural.

He shifts his weight backward, arching his back, and the sight of him like this almost fucking breaks me.

Nothing comes close to this view. The seas of the Maldives.

The Grand Canyon. The Redwood Forests. From sea to shining fucking sea, nothing compares to the sight of a thick cock pushing slowly into the body of another man.

He continues pushing backward until I’m buried to the hilt, and then he stays there.

I reach around his body and tug at his rock-hard cock. I give him a few strokes up and down, but he bats my hand away.

“I don’t…” he says through gritted teeth. “Need your assistance.”

I’d expect nothing less from the boy who comes in his pants when he’s sucking dick.

I steady him on both sides of his hips, my fingers digging into his flesh to hold him still as I begin to thrust with careful precision.

A slow, rhythmic pace because he’s not ready to be fucked like I crave to fuck him.

Not yet. Each draw of my cock against his insides elicits moans that drown out the noise of the broken air conditioner.

Every little sound that passes his lips drives me harder and deeper until my balls are slapping against his.

“Fuuuckkk.” He cries out, and collapses onto his chest, burying his face into the pillow. His muffled screams reverberate through me. I latch both hands onto the headboard, holding myself high above him.

A storm of sweat drips from my hair. Each drop lands against the flushed skin of his back.

The headboard slams against the wall, painting a melody of feral depravity as my grunts and moans write the chorus line.

I try to reconcile he’s a virgin, but it does nothing to quell the beast within.

Does nothing to sate the lust that’s held me hostage for years.

Does nothing to make me prioritize his pleasure over mine.

But the sounds that escape his throat and the barrier of the pillow give me confidence he’s enjoying this every bit as much as I am.

“Uhhh. Ah. Ungh.”

I maintain an iron grip on the headboard, my knuckles turning white.

Sweltering heat swelters hotter.

Maybe this is the way it was always supposed to go. Going out not in a blaze of glory, but instead a fiery inferno of sweat-drenched deviance.

He adjusts beneath me, raises his elbows enough to leverage himself into a position where he’s staring straight at me over his shoulder.

I continue to thrust into him with reckless abandon.

His gaze calls my name, and I can’t fucking look away.

Every thrust edges me closer to release.

Every stutter of his mouth. Every wince of his eyes every time I slam against his prostate.

His hole is wetter, hotter, more slippery.

Sweat. Lube. Enough to keep him this way for hours.

He cocks his head just a little more and manages to press his lips against mine.

It catches me off guard, and I freeze in place.

But when he laps his tongue over mine, I don’t resist. He consumes me with a mouth that is somehow wetter and messier than his wrecked hole. I inhale the moans that he exhales and chew into his lip, craving every square inch of him.

His hips buck and spasm as he cries out in hushed grunts, shooting his seed into the sweat-drenched sheets beneath him. He breaks away from my kiss, saliva dripping from his bottom lip. His head drops sideways onto the pillow, exasperated.

I dig into his hips, curling my fingers around the thong. It takes every bit of strength I have to remain upright as I drive myself to the hilt over and over again. Sweaty skin on sweaty skin. The sounds of fucking and the sounds of pleasure.

Slapping. “Ngh!”

Clapping. “Aah.”

Smacking. “Mmm.”

Stroke. Stroke. Stroke.

“Gah. Uhhh. Ah-uhhhh.”

His whimpers are enough to finally send me over the edge. My fingers dig deep into his flesh, no doubt leaving marks that’ll bruise. I bury myself all the way inside him and hold myself there as I flood the condom with hot cum.

And then I collapse onto his back, my breath labored as I exhale against his skin.

I stay here for a little too long, feeling our heartbeats that aren’t in sync.

The heat becomes too much, so I pull out and roll onto my back, trying to catch the breeze of the ceiling fan that does jackshit to quell the inferno.

Seven rolls onto his side, the pouch of the thong cupped beneath his balls, cum still leaking from his slit, revealing a pool of jizz on the sheets.

His chest heaves, his breathing hitched and wild, and yet he has the strength to reach forward to tug the cum-filled condom from my sensitive cock.

He hooks a hand under my chin, guiding my gaze as he flips the condom upside down.

Forces me to watch as my cum rolls down the inside until it drips onto his outstretched tongue.

“You..” I pant, “are truly insatiable.”

He squeezes every drop from the rubber, leaving a pool of cum on his tongue.

Rolls his tongue backward to swallow every bit.

And then he fucking smiles at me, lets out an incorrigible laugh that makes me fucking lose my fucking mind.

But my view of the world goes sideways, and the darkness creeps in from the sides.

Just as it always does. I’m back in that place, ready to run.

I warned him this would happen, but it’s like he only ever hears what he wants to hear.

Why’d he do this to me?

Why’d he show up in that fucking thong?

There’s a knock on the door. I jump out of bed, praying it’s the repair man. I rush to the door, rip it open, and yep, I was right.

The repair man stands just outside the door with his mouth agape as he eyes me up and down.

I shut the door in his face, glance quickly down at my semi-erect cock hanging, then back to Seven. “In forty-nine states, that was probably sexual harassment. We should go.”

“ We?” he questions, his eyes wide as he sits up in bed.

“I said what I said,” I say so matter-of-factly that I almost convince myself I’m not fighting an internal battle to disappear as I always do. Alone.

“How long do you intend to keep me around?”

“Why don’t you tell me where you’re heading, and I’ll make sure you get there?”

“That way.” He points in the exact opposite direction he pointed last night.

“A little more specific, please.”

“Anywhere but here.”

“Yeah, I’m heading to the same place.”

As he packs what few belongings he has, I stand by the door, a deep-seated regret taking root in my gut.

This has always been a one-way journey, and Seven’s companionship only buys me time before I go out in a blaze of glory.

He can’t save me. Can only delay the inevitable, but perhaps I’ve never been as brave as I thought I was.

Maybe a quick shower will help find clarity.