Page 71 of Catcher's Lock

“I’m obsessed with those sounds you make when you’re turned on.” The admission has the low timbre of a command, and a shiver runs through me.

“If you want me to make more of them, you should stop using that mouth for talking.”

“Sassy boy,” he murmurs. “I’m gonna make you pay for that.”

And then he does.

As if determined to disprove his earlier confession, he swallows me in one go, lips brushing my pelvis as he spreads my thighs.

“Holy shit.” My hands fly to his shoulders as his mouth engulfs me and his tight throat constricts around the head of my cock. “Fuckinghell, Quill.”

He can’t hold it, gagging almost immediately, but he hums as he draws back and chases his lips up my shaft with a now spit-slick hand. Sucking air through his nose, he traces circles around my crown with his piercing, sliding it into the crease of my foreskin.

“You—that’s—god—” I babble, before the words disintegrate into broken moans when he pushes his barbell into my slit. It brushes me up against the brink—a pleasure so intense it cusps on violence—and my fingers curl into his traps hard enough to bruise.

A helpless whimper escapes me, and his gaze locks greedily on my face. The hunger there is enough to ruin me, and my head falls back as he sucks me down, all swirling swelter and suction. I hook my heels behind his knees and coast my hands up over his skull, fighting the need to crush him against me as he bobs ruthlessly on my delirious cock. The velvet of his close-cropped hair under my palms adds the final layer to my complete sensory overload, and my orgasm races savagely up my spine.

“Gem—” is all I have time to grit out in warning before I fracture, cursing and writhing and pulsing into the cataclysm of his mouth.

He chokes, pulling off my twitching dick to spit my releaseinto his hand. Before my apology has a chance to crystallize, he smears the mess of spit and cum over his raging cock and climbs up to straddle my hips, shoving me onto my back.

Three swift strokes, and he sprays his own release in ropes that paint my chest and throat.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck.” The curse tears from his clenched abs up through his heaving chest, all gravel and grit. Sinking back on my thighs, he observes the result with primal satisfaction through eyes gone hazy and half lidded. “You look good wearing my cum,” he rasps, tracing his fingers through the mess.

“Pretty sure some of it is mine.” I wipe a drop from my chin with my thumb and suck it into my mouth, unable to resist.

“Do we taste good together?” he asks, feeding me two sloppy fingers to lick clean and then following them with a kiss. It lasts long enough that my dick starts to recover, becoming intimately aware that we’re both naked and slippery and alotof his body is draped over mine. I’m starting to idly rock my hips when my phone chirps from the pile of clothes on the floor, breaking the spell.

“Ignore it,” Gem says, gripping my jaw and trying to recapture my mouth.

“It’s Cheyenne,” I murmur against his lips, and he freezes.

“She has her own ringtone?”

Ignoring the accusation—and the hurt—in his tone, I nudge his hip to roll him off me.

“I’m guessing she’s heard from Shilo and is on her way over to chew me out. Get dressed.” Pushing up from the bed, I scan the floor for my jeans.

“I need a shower,” he says, climbing past me and heading for the door without a backward glance. I cast a look at my cum-covered chest.

“Maybe I can stall her.”

He tosses a smirk over his shoulder. “It would be faster if we shared.”

Groaning, I palm the base of my dick before it can get too excited about the idea of showering with Gem. “I doubt that.”

With a sultry laugh, he saunters back to peer up at me through inky eyelashes. It’s patently unfair for him to be so gorgeous, but that, at least, is nothing new. And I’ve had years of practice at smothering the things it does to me.

“Too bad.” He cocks a crow’s-wing brow. “Seemed like you were ready for round two.” My phone chimes again, and he sighs in defeat.

“Gem,” I say, stopping him before he retreats. “I don’t have to…finish in your mouth next time. If you don’t like it.” A blush races up my neck when I realize I voiced the assumption that there willbea next time. “I mean—”

“Rocket.” He grins, leaning in and tilting his head up until he fills my vision. “What made you think I didn’t like it? The fact that I lasted a whole three seconds longer than you instead of blowing in my pants again? Relax.” He plants a kiss on my lips. “Next timeI promise I’ll swallow like a good boy.”

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Secret