She Won't Fuck Me? Okay, He will(4)

My feet were glued to the floor. I just stood there in the doorway, the dim basement light painting Marcus in gold and shadow, his fist sliding slow and slick up that thick, angry cock. The wet sound of it—skin on skin, pre-cum coating his fingers filled the quiet like a filthy heartbeat. His head was thrown back, throat working on another low groan, and I swear my knees nearly buckled.

Then his eyes snapped open. Locked on me.

He didn’t stop.

If anything, his stroke slowed and became deliberate. A lazy twist over the swollen head that made his hips twitch and another bead of clear fluid spill over his knuckles. His lips curved into a half smirk.

“Enjoying the show, Theo?”

My mouth went dry. I should have said something clever. I should have apologized and backed out. Instead I stepped inside and pulled the door shut behind me with a soft click that sounded like surrender.

Marcus’s gaze raked over me—bare feet, pajama pants hanging low, the obscene tent I couldn’t hide. His tongue dragged across his bottom lip.

“Couldn’t sleep either, huh?” His voice was gravel and smoke. “Kept thinking about how hard you got for me upstairs. How you ran before I could make you spill.”

I swallowed hard. “I didn’t run.”

“Bullshit.” He gave himself one long, filthy pull from root to tip, thumb pressing into the slit until more pre-cum oozed out. “You bolted like a scared virgin. But you’re here now, cock leaking just from watching me.”

Heat flooded my face, my chest and my dick. He wasn’t wrong. The wet spot on my pants had spread; I could feel the cool air on the head where it peeked above the waistband.

Marcus spread his legs wider, slouching lower in the chair so his heavy balls rested against the leather. “Come closer.”

My feet moved before my brain caught up. Three steps, maybe five. Until I stood between his thighs, close enough to smell the sweat, arousal oozing from him.

He let go of his cock. It slapped up against his abs, leaving a shiny trail. Both hands reached for me instead, gripping my hips and yanking me forward until my knees bumped the chair.

“Look at you,” he muttered, eyes dark. “Fucking trembling. You want this badly, don’t you?”

I managed a nod.

“Say it.”

“I want it.” The words scraped out, raw. “Want you.”

Marcus’s grin was pure sin. He tugged my pants down in one rough motion, letting them pool at my ankles. My cock sprang free, flushed and dripping, inches from his face. He hummed, approving.

“Pretty fucking dick,” he said, voice low. “Been dreaming about tasting you since college. I used to watch you in the showers and imagine dropping to my knees right there.”

A helpless sound escaped me. He wrapped one big hand around the base of my shaft, squeezing just enough to make my vision blur.

“But first—” He tilted his head and looked up at me through thick lashes. “Let me taste your lips.”

Then he pulled me forward and crushed our mouths together.

The kiss was nothing like I’d imagined in my tamest fantasies. It was dirty from the first second, it was wet, open and invading. His tongue shoved past my lips like he owned them, licking deep, claiming every inch. I groaned into it, hands flying to his shoulders for balance as he devoured me.

He tasted like wine. His stubble scraped my jaw, my chin, the sensitive spot under my ear when he moved there, sucking hard enough to leave marks. I felt his teeth graze my lower lip, bite down just sharp enough to sting, then soothe with his tongue.

“Fuck, you kiss like you’re starving,” I growled against his mouth.

He smirked against my lips. “Bet Sarah never lets you kiss her like this. Bet she never lets you be filthy.”

I shook my head, breathless. “No. Never.”

“Good.” He nipped my throat. “Because I want you filthy, Theo. I want you dripping down my dick while you try not to scream my name.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me with swollen lips and black blown eyes. “On your knees.”

No. He was still in the chair. He meant—fuck—he wanted me to…

I dropped without thinking. The rug was soft under my knees. His cock loomed in front of me, thick and flushed, a steady bead of pre-cum rolling down the underside.

Marcus threaded fingers through my hair, not pushing, just holding. “Open up, baby. Let me fuck that pretty mouth.”

I leaned in, tongue flicking out to catch that drop before it fell. It was salty, musky and pure Marcus. I licked again, broader this time, dragging up the vein on the underside until I reached the head. Swirled around it, savoring the slick texture, the way he twitched against my tongue.

“Fuck—” His grip tightened. “Take it deeper.”

I opened wider and sank down slowly, letting him fill my mouth inch by inch. He was big—stretching my jaw, heavy on my tongue but the weight of him and the heat, was everything I’d jerked off to in secret for years.

I pulled back, sucked hard on the head, then took him deeper again. I hollowed my cheeks and let him feel every ridge of my mouth.

Marcus’s head fell back against the chair. “Fuck yes. Just like that. Suck me like you’ve been dreaming about it.”

I had. God, I had.

I set a rhythm—slow, wet slides, tongue pressing under the crown on every upstroke. Saliva built, it dripped down my chin and over his balls. I cupped them, rolled them gently, I felt them draw up tight.

He started saying low, filthy praise that went straight to my untouched cock.

“Look at you. On your knees for your best friend. Mouth stuffed full of my dick while your wife sleeps upstairs. Bet you’re so fucking hard you could come without a hand on you.”

I whimpered around him, the vibration making his thighs tense.

“Bet she never sucked you like this. But I will. Any time you want. Just say the word and I’ll drop wherever we are. You want it in the kitchen, garage or in fucking backyard, no problem. I will swallow you whole.”

I took him deeper, my nose brushing the trimmed hair at his base, throat working around the head. I held there until my eyes watered, then pulled off with a gasp, strings of spit connecting us.

Marcus hauled me up by the hair not roughly, he pulled me up and slammed our mouths together again. He licked into me like he wanted to taste himself on my tongue, groaning deep.

When he broke away we were both panting.

“My turn,” he rasped.

He spun us somehow. I was on the chair now with my legs spread wide and him kneeling between them like a prayer answered in reverse.

Marcus didn’t tease. He dove in. His mouth was hot, wet and perfect, taking me to the root in one smooth glide. I cried out, hands scrabbling at the armrests.

He pulled back slowly, his tongue tracing every vein, then sank down again. He set a relentless pace which was deep, sloppy, and noisy. The sounds were obscene: wet suction, his hums of pleasure and my broken moans echoing off the basement walls.

His hand wrapped around what his mouth couldn’t take, twisting in time with every bob of his head. The other cupped my balls, tugging gently, rolling them until I saw stars.

I looked down, I couldn’t help it and nearly came from the sight alone: Marcus’s dark head between my thighs, cheeks hollowed, lips stretched around my cock and eyes locked on mine like this was his favorite meal and he’d waited years to eat.

He pulled off with a pop, tongue swirling around the head, dipping into the slit to chase more pre-cum.

“You taste so fucking good,” he murmured against the sensitive skin. “Sweet and salty. Been dying to drink you down.”

Then he took me deep again, throat relaxing until his nose pressed against my pelvis.

I bucked helplessly, fingers tangling in his hair. “Marcus…fuck…your mouth…”

He hummed, the vibration shooting straight to my spine, and kept going…he kept sucking, licking and worshipping until I was a shaking mess, hips chasing every pull of his lips.

But he didn’t let me tip over. Every time my balls drew up tight, thighs trembling on the edge, he eased off. He would give me slow licks and gentle kisses along the shaft, until I came down just enough to breathe.

Edge and retreat…edge and retreat.

Until what came out from my mouth were hoarse, desperate pleas that I didn’t even recognize as my voice.

“Please—Marcus—need—”

He pulled off, lips shiny and red, and crawled up my body to kiss me again. Slow and deep this time. Sharing the taste of me between us.

I groaned into the kiss, hips grinding against his stomach, chasing friction that wasn’t there.

Marcus smiled against my lips and whispered, “Good boy.”