Page 12

“Dyl—” His throat bobs. “What the fuck are we doing?”

“Want me to stop?”

He grabs the back of my head and shoves me down. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

I take him all the way. Every inch, until my nose is crushed into the coarse hair at the base. I’m gagging for real this time, throat spasming around him, eyes streaming. It feels like I’m about to throw up, but I hold on. One second. Two. Three. I swallow around him, his cock so deep I can feel it pulse against my throat. Four. Five. Airway blocked, lungs burning, whole body shaking.

I pull off before I black out, gasping, coughing, spit and precum dripping off my chin in long strings. I barely get a breath before Brandon grabs both sides of my face and feeds himself back in.

“Suck it,” he grits out, locking my head in place while he fucks my mouth in short, savage strokes, punching into my throat over and over. I can’t breathe. Can’t think. All I can do is sit here and take it, tears streaming down my face, while he uses me like the absolute beast he is.

I never pictured myself as a cockslut for my best bud. But here I am, drool pooling under my chin, snot running, throat bruised raw, and it’s the best thing I’ve ever felt. It has no right to be this good. No fucking right. His thick cock jamming into my throat, my sweats soaked with precum from nothing but the thrill of it.

Because I love this. Me and Brandon have always been neck and neck. Pushing each other, talking shit, trying to be the alpha. But with his cock stuffing my throat and his fist yanking my hair, I don’t want to be in charge. I want to be under him. Let him pin me down and take whatever he needs.

And right now, he needs to come. I can feel it in the way his thighs are trembling under my hands, his thrusts losing rhythm, getting sloppy and desperate.

Fuck the bet. Fuck the maid outfit. This isn’t about winning anymore. I want him to fill my throat until I’m choking on it. I want to drain him dry and look up at him while he empties himself into me.

I slide a hand from the back of his thigh to his balls, drawn up tight against his body, and roll them in my palm. They’re heavy. Absolutely loaded. And how could they not be? After almost two weeks with no release, they have to be ready to burst.

He shudders head to toe and his pace picks up, hammering into me, all control gone. He’s close. I can taste it in the flood of precum coating my tongue, hear it in the strangled sounds catching in his throat.

I try to say “give it to me,” but with his cock in my mouth it comes out as a garbled, spit-choked mess. He gets it anyway.

“Yeah?” He grabs the back of my skull and holds. My nose crushed against him, my whole body twitching for air. “You want this load? You better swallow every drop, Dyl. Don’t you fucking waste it.”

I squeeze his balls in answer, and that’s all it takes.

His cock swells, stretching my throat even wider, and he comes. His whole body locks up, and the first shot fires straight down my throat before I’m ready. I choke, coughing around him, and then it’s everywhere. Coating my tongue, pooling behind my teeth, leaking from the corners of my lips. I swallow and swallow, but he keeps pumping, pulse after pulse, filling me up. My chin is dripping. My shirt is soaked. I gulp down every bit I can catch, gagging on what I can’t, refusing to pull off until he’s given me everything he’s got.

When he finally pulls out, his cock slides free with a wet pop. A thick string of saliva stretches between my lips and the head before it snaps and lands on my chest. I sit there with my jaw hanging open, tears on my cheeks, staring up at him. He’s gasping, looking down at me like he’s seeing me for the first time. Chest heaving, abs locked tight, sweat running down his stomach. His cock hangs in front of my face, still half-hard, glistening with spit and cum.

I lean forward and lap at the head, cleaning him off.

He shudders and shoves my head back. “Sensitive.”

“Sorry.”

Brandon’s legs give out. He drops onto the couch next to me, sweats still around his thighs, head tipped back against the cushion. Neither of us can get a full breath in.

“Fuck.” He drags a hand down his face. “Where the hell did that come from?”

“No idea.”

“You just—” He gestures at his cock, still resting heavy on his thigh. “I’ve never been deep-throated like that. Ever.”

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. It comes away wet and sticky.

He shakes his head. “I get it, you wanted me to lose. But Jesus Christ, Dyl. You really went for it.”

“I don’t care about the bet.”

His brow furrows. “What?”

“I don’t give a shit about the bet, Bran. I wanted to suck your dick.” The words leave my mouth before my brain can catch them. Must be the lack of oxygen.

“You wanted to?”