Page 17 of Watcher
Between the sexy way Atticus asked and the way he petted Foster’s dick, he had Foster panting. The desperation was a third person in the room. He had never craved anything as much as he ached for Atticus’ touch. “Holy hell. You. Definitely you.”
He made Foster curious as hell to see what Atticus could do if he had his way.
An evil rumble of laughter vibrated beneath him. “Good thing I’m always ready. Grab my wallet.”
The way Foster scrambled from the bed might have been humiliating any other time. Right now, Foster didn’t give a fuck. After stripping Atticus and getting him some pjs after his arrival, Foster had emptied Atticus’ pockets onto a small coffee table on the other side of the room. Foster fetched Atticus’ wallet at the speed of light.
Before he could pass it to Atticus, Atticus gave his next order. “Open it and get what you need.”
It wasn’t as easy as Foster would’ve suspected. There was way too much cash in Atticus’ wallet. He had to flip through bills tofind what he needed. He almost released a loud war cry when he finally found a condom and a small packet of lube. The packet was a lot less than Foster would have liked, but he was past caring about comfort.
Foster dropped the wallet on the bedside table.
Atticus’ eyes glittered with desire. “Hurry up and put that on me. I want to watch you use that lube.”
Fuck. Foster was the voyeur, but exhibition nipped at that kink’s heels. He did everything he was ordered to do. Foster made sure Atticus didn’t miss a second of him readying his asshole for Atticus’ taking. The heat in Atticus’ expression when he straddled Atticus again should have been illegal.
“Use me. I might be down, but I’m not out. Let me watch you ride my dick. I want your cum to paint my skin.”
Foster didn’t hesitate, but he made sure he gave Atticus a show as he lowered himself on Atticus’ dick. He tilted his chin toward the ceiling and took slow breaths. Sweat coated his skin as Atticus’ girth stretched him wide. Foster didn’t exactly sleep around. Not only had he spent months obsessed with Atticus and no one else, but Foster also didn’t let people close.
“I’m so proud of you.” Atticus stroked Foster’s cock. “You’re taking it so good. Just a little more.”
Foster ground his back teeth. He knew he just needed to adjust, but things were going much slower than he pictured withAtticus. A deep, sexy as fuck sound came from beneath him. Foster dropped his gaze. He had to see Atticus’ every reaction. Atticus looked turned on as hell, and Foster’s imagination had never been this good. Even when he watched Atticus pleasuring himself, Atticus hadn’t looked like this. His expression was something new, and Foster already knew he could easily become addicted. Needing to see more, Foster lifted and lowered himself.
Atticus visibly fought for air. “That’s it. Just go slow. I need you to feel as good as you make me feel.”
Foster didn’t know why he couldn’t find his voice to give Atticus all the dirty talk he could muster. He couldn’t do anything except feel. Foster rocked himself on Atticus’ dick, finding the exact angle he needed. When a jolt of ecstasy hit, Foster went to work, using Atticus the way he had been ordered to do.
“Mmm. Damn, Foster. You look sexy as fuck right now. You’re doing something to me I don’t understand. I don’t want whatever is happening between us to stop.” Atticus paused to openly pant. “Fuck. You mess with my head. I already know if you pretend this didn’t happen, it’ll snap my mind. The thought of you walking away again makes me queasy. What are you doing to me?”
The genuine plea for answers in Atticus’ tone had Foster all the way fucked up. They weren’t supposed to feel this way. Foster couldn’t stop the freight train of his emotions from barreling away from him. A moan escaped him as Atticus made things worse by pumping his dick.
Atticus took no mercy. “You’ve got this, sexy. Give me that orgasm. I need to feel your body twitching on my cock. You have no idea how many times I’ve touched myself with the fantasy of you in my mind. Show me the real thing. Let me see if it matches.”
Goddamn. He had Foster ready to disappoint him. Atticus kept fucking talking, sounding totally unmoved. Meanwhile, Foster was hanging on by a thread.
Atticus released his erection and scraped his short fingernails down Foster’s torso. “Now, Foster.”
Foster obviously totally belonged to Atticus. At Atticus’ command, Foster blew. He forgot anything existed beyond the dick he rode. Foster bounced like his life depended on it as he cried his way through a powerful orgasm.
Atticus made the slightest sound, but it cut through Foster’s haze, sounding like a cannon. He focused on Atticus. Atticus’ jaw flexed as he silently filled the condom between them. The lack of reaction might have put Foster off his game if it weren’t for Atticus’ eyes. They were locked on Foster and burned with an intensity that made Foster’s throat swell. Later, he would muse over the muted restraint Atticus showed. For now, Foster fought for his soul. He was pretty damn certain Atticus intended to take it.
Chapter Nine
AsetofFrenchdoors were swung wide, leading to a balcony. A tropical breeze whipped through the room. Atticus could see Foster sitting outside. His hair blew wildly in the wind. Atticus slipped from the bed and made his way to the bathroom. After days of Foster babying him and nights of solid sleep, Atticus felt mostly human again. He used the restroom and brushed his teeth before padding his way out onto the balcony.
Foster jumped a hair when Atticus bent over his shoulder and wrapped him in a hug. He settled immediately and rubbed Atticus’ arms.
Atticus kissed his ear. “Are you contemplating jumping?” He couldn’t stop the humor tinging his voice. If Atticus had ever been this relaxed and happy, he couldn’t recall it.
Foster flashed him a sweet smile as Atticus claimed the chair beside him. “No. What I’m considering might be worse.”
Foster sounded serious.
Atticus chuckled. It was a nervous sound. “I know there’re a lot worse things than death, but has this week with me been that bad?” Atticus tried like hell to keep his tone playful.
Foster rolled his eyes and took Atticus’ hand. Atticus wasn’t used to this brand of affection, but he didn’t want Foster to let go. Foster went back to staring at the gorgeous view around them. For a moment, they sat in companionable silence.
