Page 62 of King of Pain (Damaged Hearts #1)

Ant slides his hands up under my shirt, palms flat against my skin. “You want to know what I’m feeling right now?”

I nod and his mouth crashes into mine, kissing me—hard and needy.

He breaks the kiss, his chest heaving, eyes wild.

Then he drops to his knees.

Gay gods give me strength.

“Ant, it’s okay if you’re not ready—” I start, but he cuts me off with a look.

“I need to taste you.”

I can’t even form words before he’s working my jeans open and yanking them down my thighs. He stares at my growing bulge and grips me through the material of my boxer briefs. The man has the absolute gall to look up at me and lick his lips.

It’s the sexiest thing ever.

With only minimal struggle to get them over my ass, Ant yanks my boxer briefs down. He stares at my cock and wraps his hand around me.

It’s filthy.

He’s a fucking vision on his knees for me.

All I can do is stare as he strokes me to full hardness, his eyes full of hunger.

“You have a really thick, beautiful cock, Chance.” Then, with zero hesitation, he takes me into his mouth and swirls his tongue around the head, savoring it.

“Oh shit,” I groan. The sight and feeling of his mouth on me for the first time paired with the unholy sounds he’s making—this is going to be over faster than it started.

Ant’s done testing the waters, apparently—he grabs my hips and starts working my cock over with his mouth like a man starved.

I yell out and grip the counter behind me for balance when he quickly figures out how to get me to the back of his throat.

“Holy fucking fuckity-fuck-fuck!” It’s not my most eloquent moment, but words aren’t wording in my brain right now. “Baby—”

Ant leans back and pops me out of his mouth and a line of precum trails from his lips to the head of my cock.

Aw fuck.

“Give it to me,” he says with a wink, then pulls me forward from the counter. He wraps one hand around to my backside and grabs a handful of cheek, then cradles my balls with the other hand and takes me all the way to the back of his throat again.

“Jesus, Ant,” I say, breathless, and gently feather my fingers through his hair.

He uses the hand with a grip on my ass cheek to urge me to thrust into his mouth.

I start with shallow, tentative thrusts, but he’s not having it.

He grips my ass harder and pulls me aggressively forward.

I give him what he wants, thrusting faster, deeper—and he groans around the base of my cock.

Watching myself disappear into his mouth, feeling his throat flex around me—fuck, it’s too much.

Ant releases my cock, raises the hand that was cradling my balls to his mouth, then sucks on two fingers while looking up at me through his lashes. Then he bottoms out on my cock again and slips those two fingers down behind my balls and explores until he finds—

“Ant—I’m—oh fuck—”

He just nods and pulls me impossibly deeper down his throat while his fingers tease my hole. I throw my head back and unload down his throat.

I grip his head harder and he just groans around me and takes it. He swallows pulse after pulse like a champ.

When I finally sag against the counter, chest heaving, Ant leans back on his heels, wipes the sweat from his brow, and casually adjusts the bulge in his jeans. Yeah, I’ll be taking care of that later.

When he looks up at me, smug and satisfied, I’m barely holding myself together.

“My God, your mouth,” I pant. “Do you not have a gag reflex?”

Ant shrugs and wipes the corner of his mouth. “Guess not.”

“Jesus, Ant. First lasagna and now blowjobs? You’ve ruined me for all others,” I murmur.

Ant raises a brow. “Good.”

“How the hell did you even know the hole teasing trick—”

He rolls his eyes and cuts me off. “I may be experiencing a lot of firsts, Chance, but I don’t live under a rock. Plus, there’s this new thing called porn.”

“Alright, ya brat,” I snark back while buttoning my jeans.

Not even sixty seconds after we’ve pulled ourselves together, the front door bursts open. Lexi strides in like she lives here, and Guinness runs over, wriggling into Ant’s arms after he drops to greet him with a grin.

That was close.

I make a mental note to start locking the damn door. Our friends have no concept of boundaries.

“Hey, Little G,” Ant coos, ruffling the fluff on Guinness’s head as the big furball whines and licks every inch of his face. “I missed you too, bud.”

Lexi’s got her hands on her hips, eyes sweeping over us like a mom clocking teenagers smoking weed in the basement. She takes in our mussed hair, rumpled clothes, and the flush still high on both our cheeks. Her grin turns wicked.

“Jeez,” she says, eyes flicking between us. “The satisfaction. I can see it all over your face. Or at least,” she lifts a brow at me, “it was all over your face five minutes before I got here.” She winks and pretends to wipe something from the corner of her mouth.

Ant groans. “Lexi.”

I mutter, “Jesus.”

Ant starts fiddling with his phone, clearly trying not to make eye contact with her. She spends the next few minutes catching up with me, not missing any opportunities to throw in an innuendo, while Ant continues to scroll on his phone.

When she finally starts to wrap up her whirlwind of sass and affection, Ant clears his throat and says, “Hey, I’m cooking tonight, Lex. You wanna stay?”

Lexi gasps, then pouts dramatically. “Damn you. I’d kill for one of your meals, but Beau has a fundraiser he’s dragging us to tonight. Rain check?”

Ant nods. “Of course.”

“Good,” I say, already herding her toward the door. “Because I think we’ve had our fill of besties busting our balls for one day.”

Without missing a beat, Ant chirps, “Yeah, don’t bust his balls, Lexi. I have plans for those.”

Lexi opens the door and throws a look over her shoulder. “On that note, I’m outta here.”

We both laugh as I shut—and lock—the door behind her.

“You’re making dinner?” I ask, brows lifted. “I don’t have anything in the fridge.”

Ant laughs. “I knew that without even looking. I ordered some groceries—they’ll be here in an hour.”

I shoot him a crooked grin. “An hour, huh? Race you to the shower?”

The groceries arrive shortly after I thoroughly drain Ant’s balls in the shower.

I help unload the bags while he gives Little G some well-deserved attention.

As I start unpacking, I smile when I see he ordered a small bag of dog food—along with breakfast staples and a few late-night snack items he knows damn well are my favorites. My heart clenches in the best way.

“What are you making?” I ask when he comes into the kitchen.

He pulls herbs out of one of the bags I haven’t unloaded yet and starts setting up at the counter. “Well, I had an idea for a pasta. I’ve never made it before, so hopefully it turns out okay.”

I scoff. “I don’t think you’re capable of making anything that doesn’t taste good.”

He hits me with a sweet smile and gets to work.

I sit on a stool at the edge of the kitchen island and watch him, arms folded, completely transfixed. He starts by whipping ricotta cheese with fresh herbs and a little lemon zest, folding it gently until it’s fluffy.

After cooking a pound of spaghetti noodles, he tosses pancetta into a pan, the sizzle echoing through the kitchen as it crisps. He adds chopped Calabrian chilis, letting the oil turn a vibrant red before he drops the cooked spaghetti into the mix and stirs in the ricotta mixture.

Then he ladles some of the pasta water in and tosses until the noodles are coated in a creamy, spicy tangle of perfection. He plates it and finishes with shaved parmesan and another hit of zest on top.

“Jesus,” I whisper. “And you think I’m an artist?”

Ant smiles, then hums. “Thanks. I do love cooking on a gas stove.” He sighs contentedly, dragging a fingertip along the edge of the burner. “When my lease is up in two months, I’m definitely finding a place with one.”

I hum back, a little too loud. My stomach drops, but I try to hide it.

He searches my expression, brow furrowed. “What’s that look for?”

I shake my head. “Nothing. It’s just nice to see you in your element again.”

What I’m really thinking is—I want him in his element here. In this kitchen. In my bed. Our kitchen. Our bed. Every day.

Forever.