Page 11

Chapter eleven

Finn

Foxx’s mouth is hot and wet, and I’m gone.

My back arches, but I don’t dare move too much, not when he’s got my hips pinned down with strong, unforgiving hands, not when I can feel his control in every touch.

I want to fuck up into his mouth, chase that friction, but I can’t. He won’t let me. And it’s everything I had no idea I wanted. To give up control for one night, to have him push me over the edge when he says so. I’m into it. I’m so fucking into it.

I curse, my breaths coming in short gasps as his tongue drags along the underside of my cock, making me appreciate every second of this pleasure.

“Fuck, that feels good,” I moan, my body shaking with the effort to stay still.

He hums against me, and the vibration makes me see stars.

Fuck, fuck, fuck—

I suck in a deeper, needier breath. My knuckles ache from holding the sheets, because if I touch him, if I grab his hair and shove him down onto my cock like I want to, I don’t know what he’ll do.

I don’t want him to stop; I want him to make me feel good.

His pace is torturous, taking me deep and slow, with long, hard strokes, then pulling back just before I can get too close. Over and over, driving me insane.

“Foxx—” I whimper, voice cracking. “I can’t.”

He pulls off with a filthy pop , his breath dusting against my soaked sensitive skin, and when I lift my head to look at him, I swear I’m fucking dreaming.

He’s smirking, lips slick and swollen, his eyes alive and full of desire.

“You can,” he growls, dragging his tongue up my length again, watching the way I fall apart beneath him, those hooded eyes capturing mine. “You come when I let you come.”

I want to come down his throat, want to lose myself in the way he’s ruining me.

But he’s not giving it to me yet. He’s playing, edging me, and I’ve never been so turned on.

I let out a helpless, choked sound, so fucking desperate, but Foxx just chuckles, his fingers flexing on my hips before moving to squeeze my ass.

God, I want him there. I want him to stretch me with that thick cock of his.

I thicken in his mouth at the thought, and he stops.

Licking his lips, he tilts his head, studying me.

“What did you just think about? I felt it in your body. Something crossed your mind.”

I whimper again. Am I about to lay it all out there for him? “I thought about you fucking my ass.” Yes, apparently, I am.

He stills, and I see his eyes flash with something feral.

He releases a steady breath, and I’m a micro-second away from breaking down and crying because I need to come so damn badly.

“We need to work on those manners before that happens,” he hisses, and for a second, I regret not giving in to him sooner, but then his eyes grow hazier, and I can tell he’s imagining it happening between us.

“But I don’t have time to get you ready before we both explode. ”

His tongue peeks out and flicks over the head of my cock, then his lips close around me, sucking hard, fast, relentless, the tip of me hitting the back of his throat with ease.

My eyes roll back, moans flying from my throat.

Fuck, he’s a dream. His fingers slide lower, rolling my heavy balls in his hand, I realize he’s right; we’re both on the edge here.

Well, I know I am, and as much as I want him to fuck me, I need to come more.

My whole body is tensed up, drawn tight like it’s waiting for permission to let go.

He pulls off just enough to growl against my tip, and the very faint scratch of his beard against me is nearly my undoing. “Come for me, baby. Make a fucking mess. I want it all.”

Then he swallows me again, deeper somehow, and everything inside me snaps.

Fuck. I come with a sharp, loud cry that feels like it never ends. My hands thread into his hair as I pulse up into his hot mouth, my vision whiting out as he swallows every last bit of my cum.

By the time he pulls off me, my body is a twitching, overstimulated mess.

I can’t fucking move. My chest heaves in air, but it never fulfills me, my limbs a dead weight against the mattress, my brain completely fried from what he just did to me.

Every nerve in my body is thrumming, a slow, pulsing ache spreading through me, like he wrung me out completely and left me spent and useless.

Foxx sits back on his heels between my legs, running a hand through his hair, his lips still slick, his chest rising and falling in measured breaths. So freaking sexy.

I should move, say something. But I can’t. Plus, I like having his eyes on me.

He moves his fingers up my thigh gently, but there’s something in his eyes that tells me he’s not done with me yet. His lips curve. “You look good in my bed,” he whispers, wrapping his free hand around his still hard cock.

I force my muscles to work, lifting my arms up toward him, hooking my fingers around his neck, tugging him down.

His body shifts over mine, heavy and warm, and his cock nestles against my thigh. Fuck, I want him. Still. Again. More. My lizard brain has been activated here, even after all of that, and it only knows those words.

I press my lips to his jaw first, then lower, my breath still uneven as I bite down on the edge of his throat, dragging my teeth over his skin, earning a moan from him.

He lets me have him for a second, then his hands are on my wrists, moving them above my head.

“Nice try,” he murmurs, smirking down at me.

The ache for him increases tenfold, even as my body screams that it’s recovering.

I lift my chin, watching him, testing. “You still haven’t gotten off,” I point out, my voice hoarse.

His grip on my wrists tightens as I shift beneath him, urging him to let me go so I can take care of him.

“Bet you’d look really fucking pretty falling apart for me. ”

His eyes roll back as he moans, moving against me.

Then, so fucking fast I don’t have time to react, he flips me onto my stomach and knees, dragging me upright against his chest, one strong arm locking around my waist. A sharp gasp rips from my throat as my spine arches on instinct, my body pressing flush to his.

Foxx’s breath is hot against my ear, his lips brushing the shell of it as he speaks, his voice so deep, I swear I feel it in my fucking bones.

“You think you get to tease me?” He’s holding me right where he wants me again. Like I belong to him. Which is fucking ridiculous.

My cock’s stirring again, even though I should be wrung out and done. I swallow hard, still humming with aftershocks, but I’m not tired, not with him holding me like this, not with his voice in my ear, thick with sin.

His legs force mine apart, his hand flexing on my stomach, keeping me pressed against him. “You gonna do something about it?” I rasp.

Foxx exhales a chuckle, holding me still as his cock ruts against me, slipping between my ass cheeks, his pre-cum making things slick.

I push back into it, gasping when I feel the full, hard, thick weight of him right where I need it.

Foxx lets out a low, gritted sound, his fingers digging into my skin, but he doesn’t go further.

“Of course you’d still want more,” he murmurs.

I groan because, fuck, maybe I’d let him keep me here all night, open and waiting, letting him take whatever he wants.

But he’s the one who still hasn’t come. And that’s not fucking fair.

I shift, moving before he can stop me, twisting in his grip, turning onto my back and dragging him down over me so our cocks align.

He lets me, but it’s not submission.

He’s letting me think I have a say in this, when we both know I don’t.

But he doesn’t stop me when I slide a hand down his stomach, doesn’t stop me when I wrap my fingers around his perfect thick cock already so hard and red, lined with veins that pulse on each upstroke.

His breath coats my lips on an exhale, his eyes dark, watching me, waiting.

I smirk, my palm gliding down, my grip tight but slow, teasing, making him feel it.

“You’re so fucking hard,” I murmur, dragging my thumb over the head, smearing the wetness there, feeling him throb against my palm.

Foxx grits his teeth, his jaw tight, hanging by a thread.

Lifting my hand, I position it below his mouth. “Spit.”

His eyes morph from dark to obsidian, his nostrils flaring as he spits into my palm.

With a victorious grin, I continue stroking him steadily, watching his breath go uneven, watching the way his fingers flex against the sheets by my head. He’s trying to hold off, but that orgasm is mine. And I really fucking want it.

I lift my head, my lips brushing against his ear as I whisper, “Let me make you feel good. Let go.”

His entire body tenses. I feel it the second he loses the battle with himself, the second he gives in to it, hips speeding up, pulsing into my grip, chasing the pleasure I’m giving him. His head tips back, his mouth parting, displaying his corded neck for me as he groans.

I stroke him faster, my wrist flicking in tight, definitive movements, my other hand sliding up his chest, feeling every muscle, every shudder that rolls through him as I pinch his tight nipple between my fingers.

Foxx curses, his breath coming out harsh, his body fired up. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

It’s barely a warning, more a tortured exhale, his control finally slipping through his fingers.

I lean in and press my lips to his throat, teeth grazing the pulse hammering there as I take him exactly where I know he needs to go.

His hips stall, his body stiffens, his breath chokes off into a deep, guttural moan as he comes hot and thick over my stomach and hand.

Fucking beautiful.

I milk him through it, slowing my movements, dragging out every last drop, until he’s sated and collapsing heavily beside me.

Fuck yes.