Page 42 of Full Split (Forbidden Goals #8)

Mik laughs and shakes his head at his son and husband’s antics

“Right now,” he says, “you all have the platform. You have the opportunity to encourage an entire generation of kids that might see themselves in you, as well as the opportunity to influence an entire society of people to respect people who might not look, think, live, or love the way they do. You are the role models now.”

“And we need to be the role models we needed most.”

“I can’t believe I got to meet Mik Reinier-Sanders.”

I’m scrolling through all the selfies we took in the lobby.

“I’m surprised you weren’t more excited to meet his husband,” Wyatt says as he closes the door behind us.

“Why?”

He raises an eyebrow. “You know why.”

Of course he’s seen my photo-collage. It’s been growing since junior high.

“Look, it’s not my fault eighteen-year-old me needed a distraction. Do you remember the day my mom had to leave for a work trip right after I had my top surgery, and you had to come over and empty the drainage tubes for me?”

He cringes, which proves my point about how gross and terrible it was.

“Yeah, exactly,” I say. “That was the same week that article in The Scene came out, and it made me feel better about myself.”

“Should I go thank him? Ask for a pair of his underwear signed for you?”

“I mean… would you? Because that could be?—”

I barely choke back what was sure to be a very dignified, high-pitched squeal when Wyatt smacks me on the ass so hard it echoes off the walls.

Before I can get my bearings, he pulls me into his chest and squeezes my ass, right over the sore space he just smacked. It throbs in the most delicious way.

“Aww, are you jealous, Daddy?” I coo, reaching up to push his hair back.

He walks me over to the bed. The backs of my knees hit the mattress, and I lay back, smiling as he hovers and glares down at me.

“You need to quit with the Daddy bit.”

“Why, ‘cuz you like it?”

Another glare. I bite my lip.

Laughing, I reach up and wrap my arms around his neck to pull him down. I kiss him, moaning when his body relaxes over mine and he sinks into the kiss, licking into my mouth. My entire body buzzes.

“Don’t worry. You’re the only Daddy I want,” I whisper between kisses.

“The only one who makes me so hard,” I arch my hips up, pressing against him.

“So wet.” I lick and then bite down on his bottom lip.

“So fucking hot for you.” He ruts into me, stoking the need building inside me.

I feel like I might die if I don’t come soon.

“Fuck, I want you,” I rasp.

“Mmm. How do you want me?”

“Every way I can get you.”

“Every way?”

“God yes, please. Ruin this tight little boy pussy like I know you want to.”

He growls, then pulls off and away from me.

“Stand up.” I rush to obey, standing up in the middle of the bed, feeling tall and weirdly exposed. But not as exposed as I’m about to feel, as “strip” is his next command.

We both drop our clothes to the floor.

“All of it,” he says, gesturing to my underwear and packer. Just to be a brat, I take the fancy packer out and toss it at him. He catches it and gives it a little kiss on the tip. “We might have use for this later,” he says, and places it on the side table next to the lube.

A shiver runs through me as I stand fully naked in front of him, chest expanding and contracting as I wait for him to do or say something other than stare at me.

All the lights are on. This isn’t some dim lit romantic moment, or fumbled tussle in a closet.

This feels raw and kind of primal, especially the way he’s looking at me like a man possessed.

I didn’t think Wyatt could get any hotter. But growly, jealous, demanding Wyatt?

Hot. Damn.

“Fucking look at you,” he growls. “Making a mess all over yourself.”

He’s not wrong. I’m fucking soaked, like dripping down my thighs. I’d probably be embarrassed if he wasn’t looking at me like he wants to devour me.

Wyatt takes a step forward. The bed shakes as I instinctively take one step back. He shakes his head slowly.

I roll my lips and quickly dart my eyes around the room. Obviously, I’m not going to go far, but then again… Do I really want to?

A slow grin pulls the flesh of my bottom lip from between my teeth.

“Niles, if you run, I can’t be responsible for what happens next.”

Ohhh, you shouldn’t have said that.

“Do your worst, old man!”

With a battle yell that I’m sure Weston and our other neighbors really appreciate, I feign left, then leap off the bed in one long stride.

I land on the seat of the cuckold chair and bounce over to the small loveseat like the floor is lava.

He lunges for me, and I bounce back, narrowly avoiding him.

But then I’m laughing so hard, I can barely see, and the next leap I take, I might as well have jumped straight into his arms. He all but clotheslines me, catching me around the middle, turns, and body slams me down on the bed.

Before I can get my bearings, he grabs my ankle and yanks me down the bed before climbing on top of me and pinning me to the mattress.

“Did you really just tell me to do my worst and call me old man like I’m not going to do something about that smart mouth?” he pants.

I’m not sure if I should be laughing or moaning, but I can’t breathe to do either because I’m trying to do both.

What I am sure of, is that there is a full-on slip and slide between my legs, my dick is throbbing, and Wyatt’s cock is bobbing inches from my face. Part of me wants to bite it just to provoke him, but I don’t want to hurt him.

“Keep looking at it like that,” he warns.

I jut my neck forward and lash out with my tongue, barely catching the tip of it. It’s enough to make the rigid length of him bounce a little, and I imagine it making reverb noises like a diving board. Boioioioioinng

My attempt to stifle my laughter comes out as a snort. Wyatt’s eyes widen.

“Are you… Are you laughing at my dick?”

“Absolutely not,” I say, but I’m laughing so hard I can’t get the words out properly.

“You little brat!” he says, trying to hold his own laughter back. “If you don’t watch it?—”

His words are cut short when I open my mouth wide and stick out my tongue. It’s an invitation, permission, and a dare all at once.

“Is that what you want? You want me to shut you up with my cock down your throat?”

I’m not laughing anymore. I’m salivating. Throbbing. Spit drips from my outstretched tongue.

“Jesus,” he breathes, before crawling up the length of my body until he’s straddling my chest. Holding his cock in one hand, he leans forward and places his free hand on the faux headboard that’s bolted to the wall and feeds it to me slowly.

I keep my eyes on him as he slowly slides his cock over my tongue and between my lips. I relax my jaw and let him push back as far as he dares before pulling back.

“Jesus,” he repeats again. “Niles, you look… Fuck .”

He slides in again, adjusting his angle so he can see better or to avoid smothering me, I’m not sure. I just know that the feral look in his eye is going to feed my spank bank for the rest of my life.

While Wyatt uses my mouth and throat like a cock sleeve, testing how far he can take me before easing back, I reach between my legs and assess the damage. I’m so sensitive, I jolt at my own touch, prompting Wyatt to pause what he’s doing.

“That’s mine,” he growls. “When I’m done here, I’m going to suck you until you scream and pour all those sweet juices down my throat.”

My eyes are streaming, but I try my best to maintain a glare of my own when I push my fingers inside myself, moaning as I get them nice and slippery wet.

The way his eyes widen then roll when I bring my wet hand up to his ass and push one finger against the rim of his asshole sends a surge of pure ecstasy down my spine and I swear I’m leaving a wet spot on this bed like I’ve pissed myself.

Slowly, I breach the ring and gently thrust my finger inside, just to the first knuckle, until he’s trembling and thrusting with the movements of my finger.

The deeper I go, the deeper he goes, until I’m gagging and he’s shouting.

He unloads down my throat with such force that I end up coughing half of it up.

Some goes up my nose, some out the sides of my mouth.

It’s a fucking mess, but it doesn’t keep Wyatt from pulling out and shifting himself so he’s half leaning, half propping me up by the back of my neck to take my mouth in the sloppiest, dirtiest kiss imaginable.

Holy fuck this man…

As the kiss slows down, he lowers himself next to me and pulls me over him.

“Ride my face, baby. I want to eat you until you cry.”

I nearly come on the spot, but he maneuvers me over him so my ass is directly in his face and my hands are resting on his broad chest.

“Is all this for me?” he says, and I’d roll my eyes if they weren’t already rolling back from the pleasure of his tongue lapping at me in broad strokes. “With all this pre-cum, I can only imagine how much you’re going to pour down my throat.”

He wastes zero time, slurping my dick into his mouth like a wet noodle.

I suck in a breath. “Oh, Fuck ? — "

I’m trembling in seconds, repeating Oh, Fuck, Oh, Fuck, Oh, Fuck under my breath like a prayer while I try to hold myself up as an intense orgasm crests.

And then there’s the finger.

I suppose, all things considered, it’s fair he surprises me the same way I did him. But he goes above and beyond, because, well, it’s Wyatt.

One fat finger slides inside my pussy and pumps until I can’t breathe.

Everything seizes up, but he doesn’t relent.

He keeps sucking my cock, flicking his tongue over the sensitive tip, and tapping something inside me that makes me clench.

He adds another finger, or the one he has in there expands, I don’t know.

Every muscle contracts and releases, contracts and releases, as I rock back on his finger and mouth. I cry out, the orgasm crashing over me in wave over wave.