Page 83 of Catcher's Lock

“Holy fuck, Rocket,” I rasp, then “fuckfuckfuck” when he does it again, this time with tongue.

I’ve had my ass eaten a few times before, by women who were curious or crossing it off some list—a few minutes of tentative licks, delicate fingers, and smothered giggles before moving on to the main attraction.

This is something wholly different.

Josha eats me out, not like he has something to prove, but like he’ll fucking starve if he doesn’t taste every inch of me. Since I can’t spread my legs in the damn suit, he holds me open with his thumbs, fingers digging into my hips, while he licks and sucks and teases until my cock is weeping and my legs are shaking. All I can do is cling to the wood under my hands and pant breathless curses to the trees and struggle not to fall the fuck apart. Warmth spreads out from his questing tongue until my hole is flushed and fluttering and fuckingwanting.

Until his tongue isn’t enough.

“Rocket. I need—” You. More. Something.You.

His breath comes out on a sigh, sending goosebumps over my skin.

“You taste like summer,” he says, so low and reverent that my eyes burn, and I have to blink away the sudden sting.

Then he presses the pad of a finger against my entrance, and all my attention coalesces on that one vital point. He spits again, even though I’m already coated in his saliva, and rubs a small circle around my rim.

“Are you sure?” he asks, like I’m not going crazy from the teasing touch.

“I would have let you bend me over and hate-fuck me back in Bakersfield,” I tell him, realizing it’s true. “Yes, I’m fucking sure.”

“That’s…really fucking hot.”

I bark a short laugh that sounds more like a groan.

“You wanna rough me up a little, Rocket? Punish me with your cock?”

“Would you like that?” he asks curiously, while he continues to tease my hole.

“Umm.” My hips shift without conscious direction from my fried-circuit brain, chasing the contact. “I’m starting to think, yes?”

“Good to know.”

“Then what are you waiting—fuuuuck.”

He nudges his finger inside me, and my cock pulses as my balls draw up tight and my head falls back.

“Did you justcome?”

“Only a little.Fuck. Don’t stop.” I clench around the intrusion, and he swears softly.

“It’s so tight. Relax for me.” He leans in to press a small sucking kiss on my rim, still spreading me wide with his other hand. “There you go. Fuck, that’s hot.” He starts to move his finger, drawing it out and plunging back in, a little deeper each time. “You feel so good. Like silk. Or—god, I don’t even know. Like heaven.”

And then he brushes over the magic spot inside me, and I. Am.Unmade.

“Ohmyholymotherfuckinggod.” A full-body shudder sweeps through me as I light the fuck up, arching off the porch rail.

“I think,” I pant when I can put words in order again, “that you found my prostate.”

“Here?” He does it again, his voice huskywith satisfaction, and my hand flies to squeeze the base of my dick because no way in hell am I ready for this to be over.

“Yes. Holy fuck, yes.”

Of course he’s fucking amazing at this too.

My beautiful genius.

“Think you can take another?” he asks, coming to his feet behind me and wrapping his free hand around my throat. I tilt my head to give him a slow smirk, pretending to be functional.