Page 69 of Saving Pookie

Two minutes.

"A promise is a promise," I grumble and arch my ass all the way back, swallowing his cock to the hilt. I'm met with a stinging, burning pain that I'd regret if it didn't feel quite so perfect. Again, euphoric.

I think he's found my prostate because there's no other explanation. This has no business feeling this good. He shudders against my ear, little ragged, hot breaths nipping at my lobes.

One minute.

So fucking close, but I can't move. Not yet. Running out of time, though. I lean forward, carefully lowering myself to my hands and knees while making sure his cock doesn't move inside me. Of course, this is an impossible task, and he does move. Just a bit. Just enough to make my vision blur.

Then, he arches back, dragging his cock with him. It's like I'm a puppet, and his cock is pulling my strings. I choke out a moan that turns into a sharp gasp when he rocks forward. He adjusts his grip on my hips, looser now. And he works me at a steady pace that I'm not quite certain I'm ready for, but we're past the point of no return.

His thrusts become longer, filling me almost to the hilt and then stealing it all back. It's a slow dance that's designed to turn men like me into submissive bottoms. And it's kind of working until he tops a little too hard and lands a sharp blow against the deepest part of me, burying himself completely just as the clock strikes midnight. Just as the first firework sizzles into the sky, combusting in a gold explosion of glitter right outside the hotel window.

The first firework is followed by a mob of more, all sorts of colors—reds, blues, pinks, and white. And I don't know if it's the celebratory display outside or if I'm actually seeing stars, but I always deliver as promised.

Pookie fucks me harder. Fucks me like I fuck him. Shifting between animalistic hunger and sweet, tender moments where he mounts his lips against mine. Every time his cock hits thatspot, I grunt and moan. And as the fucking continues, those noises become softened with little chuckles of amusement because seriously, how the hell did I end up here?

Outside, the fireworks erupt in the grand finale. A cascade of lights explodes in the sky, painting the room in a rainbow of colors. I frown for a moment because I really wanted to finish at the same time as the grand finale, but I also don't want this to end. Not yet.

"How does it feel?" Pookie asks breathlessly.

"New year," I groan. "New me."

I reach for my cock for the first time and notice there's a waterfall of precum leaking from the head, dribbling onto the sheets. I give myself a few strokes and almost shatter, so I quickly pull away. There's no way in hell I'm coming first. It's only then that I notice the pain has dissipated completely, and left in its wake is a feeling like no other. I close my eyes and enjoy the ride, enjoy the way my body is thrust forward every time his balls slap my ass.

And that's when I feel it—my cock spasming, jizz spilling from the slit like slow lava. It doesn't shoot or spray. It just dribbles out, endlessly, in an orgasm that takes its time. By the time it stops erupting, I'm left a quaking mess with a racing heart, all the while Pookie continues to fuck me.

He's singing now, though, so I know he's close. Huffs and puffs. Grunts and groans. His thrusts more erratic than before. I've been in his shoes many times. I know all the signs. I throw my ass back, guiding him to a quicker finish.

When it's safe to do so, I open my eyes. And well... let's just say I wish I'd kept them closed.

Tamra stands at the door, her mouth dropped open.

What an awful time for the outside world to go quiet because I'd really prefer it if I couldn't hear what she was saying. "What the fuck?"

Pookie freezes with his cock buried to the hilt.

"I..." I stammer. "I'm not gay."

"His dick is in your ass, Braxton," she shouts, a little too loud for my liking.

"Would you be quiet?" I seethe between gritted teeth. "Now, I can see how that might look..." I try to stifle a sneaky moan, but I'm much too late. Pookie, believing himself to be more sly than he really is, continues to rock gently. I cock my head over my shoulder and bark at him, "Do you mind?" Then, my attention is back on Tamra, who has turned around and is shielding her eyes. The logical thing to do is to get dressed and have a conversation with my ex-girlfriend, but I'm afraid logic has gone out the window. I've seemingly found Nirvana, and my newfound prostate is much more important than outing myself to yet another person. "Can you come back in ten minutes?"

"Yeah," she says, holding the door open. "I'm going to go now."

She closes the door behind her, and I drop my head, inhaling a deep breath.

Pookie's fingers dig at my hips, but he doesn't move inside me. He stills himself there, and I know it's killing him, but not as much as it's killing me.

"Do you think she's going to tell anyone?" he asks quietly.

The answer to that question? That girl can't keep a secret worth shit, especially one this scandalous. The whole gay pyramid is about to come crashing down, and all I can think about is getting this show back on the road.

I angle my gaze over my shoulder. "Get moving, cowboy."

He gazes at my ass as he pulls out with a wet plop. He rolls onto his side, reaches out to collect me into his arm, and holds me close. "I already came."

I shoot him a glare, squinting my eyes. "When?"