Just a Bit Dirty (Straight Guys #10)(38)

Ian bottomed out and went still, his right hand gripping Miles’s hip, his teeth gritted as he fought for control. But control remained elusive, the insane urge to take impossible to resist. He gave a small, shallow thrust.

A moan slipped out of Miles’s mouth, a shameless, loud sound. Miles was looking at him dazedly, his face flushed and eyes completely glassy from arousal.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Ian snapped, slamming hard into him.

Miles cried out, his fingers digging into Ian’s ass, as though trying to pull him deeper inside him.

Ian couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He wasn’t gentle. His cock pistoned in and out of Miles in a hard rhythm that betrayed just how far gone he was. Part of him, a distant, civilized part, was incredulous of his own behavior. He was being little better than an animal, fucking Miles like he was just a wet hole for him to fuck. Or rather, the wet hole Ian had wanted to fuck for ages. He was fucking Miles in a way only a man driven by his sexual frustration would fuck.

But Miles, bless him, seemed perfectly happy with it. He was moaning, little breathless moans and Ah, ah, ahs filling the room as Miles clung to him, fucking himself on Ian’s cock as roughly and desperately as Ian felt. Ian could almost taste the sense of finally in the air, in the primitive, hungry rhythm their bodies had found, in the sheer pleasure and need written all over Miles’s face.

Within minutes, Miles was a wreck under him, writhing and clawing at his shoulders like a little sex-starved demon, his whines and moans growing in volume. “More, more—ah—please—ah! There! Feels so good.”

Ian obliged, hitting the same spot again, and again, and again. His hand moved up Miles’s chest and pinched his nipple hard.

Miles arched, crying out. Ian pinched it again, and then the other, harder.

Miles whined, pushing back on Ian’s cock. “Oh god, so good. Love this, don’t stop. Need you—need you so much.”

Goddammit. It was as if this boy was created to be the personification of everything that drove him crazy. He was fucking perfect. It was incredibly annoying.

“Kiss me,” Ian bit out, driving his cock into Miles again and again.

Miles’s glazed eyes didn’t seem to be able to focus. He reached for Ian blindly, clumsily leaning up to kiss him. Although the kiss wasn’t very skilled, it was incredibly eager. Ian had never thought inexperience could be such a turn-on, but it was. The mere thought that he was Miles’s first drove him crazy. He was Miles’s first man, the first cock he’d ever taken.

And his last, a voice whispered viciously at the back of his mind, a voice Ian was trying to ignore but that was becoming increasingly louder by the minute. His hand found its way to Miles’s throat. Looking Miles in the eye, he squeezed and slammed hard inside him.

Miles made a choked sound, his gaze becoming unfocused again.

Watching him carefully, Ian increased the pressure on his throat as his hips pumped forward at an unrelenting rhythm, pounding Miles into the mattress. Miles was whimpering now, his face red and his eyes wet, his erection leaking against Ian’s stomach. Ian couldn’t look away. God, he was so damn beautiful. He looked right under him, as if he was born to take Ian’s cock.

“Say you’re mine,” Ian heard himself say.

Miles moaned and nodded weakly, his eyes glazed over with pleasure.

Ian tightened his fingers around Miles’s throat. “Say it.”

“I’m,” Miles croaked out, sounding completely gone. “Yours.”

Ian growled and thrust harder, giving short, hard stabs against Miles’s prostate, sweat running down his forehead as he tried to stave off his orgasm. Goddammit—

He came with a groan, biting at Miles’s ear and squeezing his throat. “Come for me,” he said, wrapping his other hand around Miles’s erection. “Come for me, darling.”

Miles shuddered under him, his walls clenching around Ian’s softening cock, and then he was coming, too, wet and sticky on Ian’s stomach, a high-pitched whine leaving his mouth. “Ian,” he whispered.

Christ.

Ian tried to think, but he wasn’t capable of doing much of anything besides panting, his mind still hazy with pleasure.

Under him, Miles was doing the same, taking in greedy breaths now that Ian had loosened his grip on his throat.

Finally, Ian lifted his head to look at him.

Fucking hell.

Miles looked absolutely fucked out, his eyes glassy, hair damp with sweat, lips bitten red. Although he still radiated contentment, he was now showing signs of distress, his eyes filling with tears and hands gripping Ian’s shoulders.

Frowning, Ian rolled onto his side and quickly gathered him into his arms. “Shh,” he murmured, stroking Miles’s back soothingly. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Miles clung to him. He still seemed partly out of it, but he was dropping fast.

Ian stroked his hair, his back, murmuring sweet nothings. He did it without thinking; it came naturally, an instinct to protect and take care of.

He’d never had anyone go into subspace from so little. Some subs didn’t go into subspace at all. But he probably shouldn’t have been surprised that Miles had: he was wonderfully trusting and responsive with him.

And hell, Miles wasn’t the only one who got carried away during a pretty vanilla scene. Ian’s orgasm had been far more satisfying than it should have been. He normally needed a lot more to achieve an orgasm anywhere remotely close in its intensity to this one. It was… baffling.