Connect Us ✔

Chapter 26

I don't even change. No time for a shower. I jump on my motorcycle and go. Dash up the stairs and have to stop halfway to catch my breath. I need a glass of water as soon as I'm up there, I tell myself, and keep climbing. Why the hell does that asshole live so high up? Couldn't he have found an apartment closer to the ground?

"I need water," I say, out of breath, when he opens the door. He walks straight into the kitchen. I set my helmet down and pull off my jacket. When he hands me the glass, I drain it in one go.

"Done?"

"Wait," I breathe and raise my hand. Take a couple more seconds to just breathe. He checks his watch. "Okay."

"You look tired."

"Don't talk about it," I say, grab him by the collar, and kiss him. My arms wrap around his neck, and I'm completely gone. Lost in a bubble of passion. Barely aware of how horny I've been lately. Maybe he really is teaching me to have less sex.

He kisses my neck and takes off my pants in one swift motion. Then his. He turns me around and pins me against the door with his body.

"I didn't shower." He tugs down my underwear, pulls my hips back, and I rest my forehead against the door. 

"Whatever," he mutters, barely more than an exhale and I wonder if I made him wait too long.

"Fuck," I hiss in shock as he slides in, and I hold on to the wall. Suddenly, I hold on to a table, feeling its edge press against my thigh. The table bangs against the wall, first slowly, then faster. He pins my neck to it with his forearm.

"Fuck..." I gasp and hold onto the edge. "Yes," I breathe, while I'm basically losing my mind, finally not thinking about anything. Finally shutting down. Finally, the only thing that matters is how fucking close I am. "Yes..."

"Don't..."

"What?" I breathe.

He stops for a moment, leaning closer, his breath unsteady against my ear. "Beg for it," he rasps, his voice low and husky. "Beg for me to stop."

I lean my forehead against the table. "You fucking psych—" He presses his body against me, his hand pushing my head down, my cheek pressed against the wood. "You fucking pervert..." He groans next to my ear.

"Oscar..."

"No," I whimper. "Fuck... no... please..." He presses his hand to my mouth and I mutter into it, a muttered no against his wet hand. I try to fight back, even though I want nothing more than to go on. He pushes me back, his grip tightening, holding me in place. I hear him sigh in relief. His hips push even harder, and my legs give way.

Then he stops pushing. His hand moves on my cock, letting go of my mouth and moving faster. I drop my head on the table and groan, rocking my hips slightly back. He pushes me against it again at full power, his heavy body pressing into mine. At some point, I can't feel my legs anymore, and my thighs feel like they're burning.

"God, Oscar," he says, out of breath, pausing for a second. "You're taking your time today."

"I..." I gasp as he just goes on. "I can't come... under stress..."

He stops again and props his hands on the table. "Turn around," he suddenly says, but I'm too shaky to move even a little. "Oscar."

"Yeah, Jesus, chill." I try to sit up. "I can't fucking breathe."

"Turning, not sitting."

"Shit, just... calm down. I feel like dying." My arms feel weaker than ever before as I push away from the table to turn my heavy body over. "Just go," I say, breathless. "You already paid me anyway."

Instead, he looks at me—my sweaty face, hair clinging to my forehead because I'm too tired to brush it away. He gazes down at me, forehead and neck glistening with sweat, his own hair slicked back so perfectly that only a few stray strands fall forward. He put my legs up so they are buckled on the table. Then he goes down on his knees.

My body jerks a little in shock and I moan surprised when I feel his lips sliding along my cock and he takes me into his mouth, moving back and forth. I don't know what comes over me as I wrap my leg around his neck to pull his mouth closer. I feel it vibrating when he takes it all in and lets out a long, satisfied moan. Then he starts to move his fingers on my hole, pushes two in and moves inside, his mouth sucking deep on my cock, my leg still pushing his neck into it.

I stop breathing and my head falls back, my fingers buried in his neat hair and I pull him even further on them, which is actually not even possible anymore. I hear him breathe loudly and erratically through his nose. I hear him swallow. Then he pushes a third finger in and moves faster. 

I take quick, very short breaths, the whispers flooding out of me barely audibly through clenched teeth, "yes... yes ys..." I slightly move my hips with his rushing fingers, my cock sliding deeper into his throat.

I let out a deep croaky breath when I finally come, my leg loosening, staying on his shoulder, but my hands are still in his hair as he's not moving until he swallowed it all. Only then he moves away, taking a few deep breaths and wipes off the spit around his mouth. 

"Finally." He gets up.

I try to catch my breath. My throat is dry again, my whole body twitching and shaking, and I'm glad he's still holding me. 

"God," he says and looks down on himself. "I have to change. I'm all sweaty."

"I would..." I breathe out. Then in. I can barely speak. "...appreciate it if you helped me to the bed first."

He laughs, breath catching, glances at his watch. "Damn, I'm late."

Then he lets go of me. So suddenly my body just gives in—I fall to my knees on the floor. It all happens so quickly. A wave of dizziness hits me and I have to grab onto something, anything, whatever my hand can reach to steady myself. All of my senses go numb for a moment and everything is spinning when I close my eyes.

"Oscar?"

"Shit..." I force my eyes open, but the world swims before me. "Hang on..."

"Oscar."

I want to say something like shut up and wait, but I only get out a weak "mhh..." It feels like my brain is contracting or my soul is being sucked out of my body. I close my eyes.

"Oscar, look at me. Oscar." His voice drops low, rough, almost vibrating, and I try to raise my arm to shove him away, but my limbs feel like lead. The last thing I sense is my weight fading, carried upward, and then my head sags against his shoulder.