Page 24 of Don’t Say You’re Sorry (Hawthorne University #2)

Rolling my hips, I dry-fuck him and lightly choke him at the same time, my teeth latched onto his damp, swollen lip. His hand comes up to my wrist, and he holds on for the ride, letting me take control. Letting me own him, even if it’s just pretend.

When I pull back a little to look at his face, his eyes are rolled up and his mouth is parted with a silent scream. He’s coming, and it’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.

“God, baby,” I rasp, squeezing his throat a little harder. “Don’t try to stop it. Let it happen.”

He moans loudly, and I drop my mouth to his, muffling his sounds.

He arches his back, his legs tightening around my hips, and I slow my pace before I come too, waiting for his body to stop shaking.

Once he’s done, he sinks into the bed and blinks at me, looking stunned and blissed out and amused all at once.

“You all right?” I ask cautiously.

He laughs under his breath and nods.

Widening his legs, he pulls his hand out of my grip and reaches down between us, his hands fumbling as he tries to unbutton my jeans. Still pinning him by his throat, I grab his wrist to stop him. “No.”

“No?” he echoes, confused. “Did you come?”

I shake my head, amused by the little pout on his lips. But then that pout turns into a frown, and I see the exact moment he panics, wrongly assuming I regret what just happened.

“It’s not because I don’t want to, you idiot.”

He scowls. “But?”

“But we shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have done that. We need to stop now.”

More scowling. “You do regret it.”

“No.”

“Prove it.” He lifts his chin up in defiance, wearing my hand like a necklace. “Kiss me.”

I drag my bottom lip through my teeth to hide my smile, lowering my face until our mouths brush. “I’ll kiss you, suck you, rim you, fuck you, and come in your little virgin ass if that’s what you want. That’s what I want. But only when you’re sober.”

He lies there speechless as I stand. I grab the TV remote while I adjust my needy dick in my jeans. Adam watches me, a beautiful flush on his face as he stares at me as if I’m someone he’s never met before. When he catches me staring at him, he pushes himself up to sit, before he stands too.

“Where are you going?”

He halts on his way to the door. “To clean up and get changed.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Take those off.” I tip my chin at his clothes.

He obeys without question, which pleases me more than it should. While he removes his hoodie, shirt, and jeans, my mouth waters at the sight of his body, my teeth clenching with the urge to bite him, to bruise him, to leave my marks all over him.

He looks at me expectantly, waiting for further instruction.

Unable to help myself, I reach out, running my fingers over the band of his boxers. The outline of his dick makes me want to reach inside, use his cum as lube, and jerk him until he comes again.

“Leave these on and sleep next to me tonight.”

He raises a brow. “With my cum in my boxers?”

I nod, still playing with his waistband. “I want you to wake up tomorrow and remember exactly what I did to you.”

He licks his lips, and I snap my eyes up to his face. The flush on his cheeks has traveled down to his neck and chest, but he doesn’t look embarrassed. He looks turned the fuck on and ready for round two. The way his dick jerks only proves that.

“You talk to all your hookups like that?”

That pisses me off. “Don’t call yourself a hookup.”

His brows perk. I narrow my eyes, waiting for him to ask what he is to me if not a hookup. I don’t think he’s ready to hear the answer, so he doesn’t ask.

“Can I at least take a piss?”

I pretend to think about it. “If you must…”

He laughs and brushes past me to use my bathroom.

When he comes back a couple minutes later, I’m back on my bed in just my boxers, mindlessly scrolling through the list of movies on the TV.

I’m not even seeing what they are. I’m too busy thinking about him, watching him out of the corner of my eye as he rounds the bed and lies beside me.

He leaves a good amount of space between us, so I grab his bare thigh, dragging him closer until he’s right up against me.

He smiles as if I did exactly what he wanted me to. I smile too.

“Where’s the craziest place you’ve had sex?” he asks randomly, and I chuckle, tossing the remote to turn on my side and face him instead.

We talk all night long, laughing, eating, touching each other’s bodies, and it’s the most natural thing in the world, the transition from best friends and brothers to…more. It feels right. It feels good.

When he falls asleep, it’s with my chest to his back and my arm wrapped around his waist, my nose in his hair.

“Mine,” I whisper to his sleeping body. “That’s what you are to me.”

The next morning, I wake up alone. The pillow next to mine is crinkled, and the spot where Adam slept is still warm to the touch, meaning he must have just left. Fisting the sheet, I frown. I thought he’d still be here.

Lifting my head, I strain my ears, smiling when I realize my shower is on.

Getting up, I check the bedroom door is still locked before I go into the bathroom, wiping the steam off the mirror so I can see his reflection while I brush my teeth.

Adam’s rinsing his hair, the soap bubbles running down the dips and curves of his body, his abs, his cock, his pretty hazel eyes never leaving mine.

“What are you doing in my shower?” I ask.

“I’m sober,” is all he says.

I keep brushing, stalling. “And?”

“And I remember exactly what you did to me. I’m not sorry. Are you?”

Spitting into the sink, I wipe my mouth and drop my boxers to the floor, stepping inside the shower with him.

His greedy eyes look their fill of me as I grab his waist, pushing him back against the tiled wall.

Dripping wet, he slides his palms up my chest, wrapping his arms around my neck.

I lower my head and press my lips to his jaw, my tongue catching the water dripping off his face.

“What do you want, Adam?”

“Kiss me,” he breathes, so I pull his mouth to mine. I’m about to give him the best goddamn kiss of his life, but he’s not done. “Suck me, rim me, fuck me, and come in my ass.”

“Your little virgin ass,” I correct him.

His hands tug on my hair as he gasps into my mouth. “Yes.”

Groaning, I pull his head back and kiss his neck, the column of his throat, his chest, and then lower.

Sinking to my knees, I run my tongue over the grooves of his abs before I bury my nose in his trimmed pubes.

He smells like me, like the soap I use, and it triggers something in me—a possessiveness I didn’t know I was capable of until now.

Mine.

As he looks down at me on my knees for him, he whispers, “Shit.”

“What is it?” I ask, licking the crease where his thigh meets his hip.

He jerks against the wall, his hand in my hair, his lip between his teeth. “If you put your mouth on my dick right now, I’m gonna come in two seconds.”

I chuckle. “Just give me a taste, okay?” Taking the base of his cock in my hand, I tease the underside with my tongue, licking him from root to tip.

His low curses fill my ears as I wrap my lips around him, sucking his precum. I’ve tasted my own cum before, so it shouldn’t feel new to me, but it does. It does because it’s his cum. The proof of what I do to him tastes even better than I thought it would.

Opening my mouth, I do what feels natural and relax my throat before taking him in. The way my scalp burns as he yanks on my hair only makes me crave more. So I take more, making myself gag and retch, my blunt nails digging into his hips as I choke myself on his cock.

“Christ, Easton,” Adam moans, his hands moving down to grab my face. “Stop.”

I stop and lick the precum and spit off my lips.

“Have you done that before?” he rasps, still holding my face as if he’s holding me back.

“No. I’ve never been with another guy, but I’ve watched a lot of videos.”

“While thinking about me?”

“Always,” I confess. Always him. Only him.

Once again, he stares at me as if he’s only just meeting me for the first time, and he doesn’t know what to make of me. Maybe I’m moving too fast with him, revealing too much, too soon. But he asked, and I’m not going to lie to him.

“Turn around.”

This time, he hesitates for a second, his hands lingering on my face before he turns. I stay on my knees and touch his lower back with my palm, pressing his body into the wall. He braces himself on his forearms and looks at me over his shoulder, his body trembling in anticipation.

“Spread your legs for me.”

He does, and I run my hands up the backs of his thighs, his tight, round ass directly in front of my face. Spreading his cheeks with my thumbs, I lean in and press my nose to his pink hole. I inhale deeply through my nose, and he gasps, jerking up onto his tiptoes. “ Easton . Fuck me,” he mutters.

“I’m getting there, baby,” I joke, flicking his hole with the tip of my tongue.

He moans as I rim him, his muscles coiled tight, his hand reaching back to grab a fistful of my hair. I can’t see his face, but I can tell he’s enjoying it by the way he pushes my face into his ass, his hips rocking back to help control the pace.

When I add a finger into the mix, spitting on it before pressing the tip into his ass, he almost buckles to his knees, his forehead against the wall as he mumbles things I can’t hear over the shower.

“I want you on your back on my bed,” I say, still eating him out as I reach for the soap, washing my dick with my free hand.

“Think you can be quiet?” I didn’t check what time it was before I came in here, but it’s got to be around noon, meaning our parents are definitely awake.

They’re probably downstairs making Sunday dinner.

He nods frantically, and I push to my feet, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck, my hands on his waist. “I fucking love the taste of you.”