Page 90 of Yard Sale

I gripped his chin. “No. Absolutely not. I—shit.”

I was going to say it, wasn’t I. There was a good chance he’d freak out and go running, but there was also a chance he felt the same. And maybe we were in the vacation bubble, but I was a thousand percent sure my feelings weren’t going to change the moment we left the island.

“What?” he begged. “Just tell me.”

“I think I’m falling in love with you.”

There was a heavy silence, and then he said, “Don’t fucking lie to me.”

“I’m not. And I understand if it’s too much, but⁠—”

I didn’t get the chance to finish my sentence. He cut off my words with the most powerful, messy, mean, demanding kiss I had ever had in my life. And I loved every single second of it.

Even after he pulled away.

CHAPTER 21

ARAVIND

He was gorgeous like this. Perfect like this. He was the fucking man of my dreams, sweating and drooling a little, begging wordlessly because his mouth was stuffed with purple lace, and his hands were above his head, forbidden from touching himself.

His hole was a leaky, sloppy mess from being eaten, then fucked, and now stretched wide with one of my favorite dildos. He’d been sobbing for release for the last ten minutes, and I was nearly at the edge of my ability to watch him suffer.

But he did suffer so fucking pretty for me.

“Tiago,” I murmured.

He shifted, thighs trembling with anticipation.

“I’m going to fuck you again. I’m gonna nail your fucking prostate, and you are not going to come, like my good boy, right?”

He let out another muffled sob.

“And if you can obey me, I’m going to pull out and shove my fingers in your ass and hold you open while I suck your orgasm right out of your dick. So can you do that? Can you be so good for me?”

He gave a frantic nod, and that was all I needed before pulling the dildo out and pressing my cock inside him. He was squeezing tight, but loose enough that I was able to slip right in, and I immediately took up the angle I needed to graze his prostate with every single thrust.

He lost his words almost immediately, his body lax and taking what I was giving him. His muffled grunts beyond the panties stuffed between his teeth were enough to send me right to the edge, and it wasn’t long before I felt the familiar heat crawling up my spine.

“I’m going to come. Give me your hand, my perfect, sweet, good boy.” He reached for me, and I pressed my lips to his palm before laying it over his cock. “Stroke yourself, but don’t orgasm.”

He let out a soft, begging mewl, but I wasn’t giving in. I knew he could do this for me.

“Come on. Let me see you,” I said with a soft grunt. My hips sped up, my skin slapping against his as I chased my climax.

His arm didn’t move at first, but after a single breath, he gripped himself and began to stroke. His cries were a fucking symphony, shoving me over the edge, and I lost all reason as I hammered into his ass, my balls going tight right before they shot my come deep inside him.

My thighs felt weak as I slowed down, and then I laid a hand on his wrist to stop him. I could tell he was far too close to keep going, and I didn’t want him to feel like he’d failed me, though that would never be possible.

Pushing his hand away from his dick, I gently pulled out, then dropped to my elbows and took his leaking cock past my lips. It didn’t take long for him. I didn’t even get time to put my fingers in his ass. A single swirl of my tongue and a hard suck, and he was shooting off. His come landed in hot ropes against the back of my throat, and I swallowed it all down, licking him clean as he moaned and whimpered.

When I was satisfied—when he was still trembling but starting to settle—I reached down and pulled the condom off before lying directly on top of him. His weak arms came around me, and I urged him to roll over so I could curl my leg over his hip.

When he was breathing steadily through his nose, I pressed against his chin, then pulled the panties from his mouth. Working his jaw back and forth as I dropped them off the side of the bed, I reached up and massaged him right at the temples.

“I think,” he said, slightly breathless, “you might have killed me.”

I couldn’t help a small laugh as I leaned in to kiss him. He didn’t participate much other than to share his breath with me, but it didn’t matter. His lips were warm, dry, and pliant. I kissed him over his jaw, then over his cheeks, his closed eyelids, then down the other side of his face.