Microsoft Word - Jacks-Marcy-Hunted-and-on-the-Run.doc by Owner (best books for students to read .TXT) 📗

It was good, and he couldn’t help but enjoy himself. How could he not, when this man held him like he was worth something and kissed him like this?

This wasn’t just a make-out session, however. This was leading to something else, and Storm was reminded of that when John gripped him by the hips and pressed their bodies so closely together that their stiff cocks rubbed against each other beneath the denim they wore.

He groaned. John was the one to moan the loudest, and like before, his inexperience made him want it as fast and as hard as he could get it.

He thrust against Storm’s hips wantonly, until the back of Storm’s knees hit the bed and they both fell on top of it in a tangle of arms and legs.

“Fuck, that’s good,” John said on a gasp. He braced himself on his hands and kept right on humping against Storm.

He didn’t mind at all considering the friction he was getting. He grabbed John’s ass, his fingers clutching against it tightly. John had a finely toned ass, he noted.

They were kissing again, rutting against each other like animals.

Storm was into it, and he completely lost himself to the sensations.

He’d needed this. He hadn’t realized how much, but he had, and now that the man he’d been fantasizing about for the last three months was on top of him, touching him, he couldn’t stop even if he’d wanted to.

Though he was hesitant to do it, Storm wanted to be fucked, and he didn’t want to come inside someone else’s pair of jeans, so he put his fingers in John’s surprisingly soft hair and pulled his head back.

His face was flushed, and his eyes were half-lidded. He didn’t stop thrusting his hips. “What…what is it?” he asked, his breathy, gasping voice going straight to Storm’s cock and balls.

For a heart-seizing second, he’d almost forgotten what he’d Hunted and on the Run

39

wanted to say. He was so close, so close.

“Stop, get off me.” He pushed against John’s shoulders, expecting something of a fight considering he was ordering around an alpha during sex.

He was stunned at how quickly John moved off him. The man’s eyes were wide with panic, and it occurred to Storm what he must be thinking. He jerked his head toward the bathroom. “There’s still some conditioner in the bathtub. We can use that.”

John frowned, but that panic never left his eyes. “For what?”

Storm looked at him. “Seriously?”

“Oh! Oh, right,” John flew to the bathroom as though he had hawk blood in him and was swooping toward prey.

Storm couldn’t even watch him go or bother to listen while he knocked over the other little bottles in the tub while he searched out the conditioner.

His hands went down to his fly, and he unbuttoned himself and kicked off the jeans with speed and desperation. They were a little tight on him, and still somewhat stuck to his skin because of the shower he’d taken, but he managed to get them off without tearing them.

He grabbed his cock by the base so quickly he actually hurt himself a little. He’d done it just in time, too, since, if he’d waited any longer, he would’ve come and come and come.

“Don’t even think about finishing off before I get to you,” John said, his voice a low warning growl as he came back into the room.

“Don’t worry. Not going to,” Storm said, smiling up at him.

He was at ease around him now. Their talk had calmed him, and now that he felt safer in John’s presence, he felt confident enough to tease the man a little.

John came back and put his knee up on the bed, he stared down at Storm like he wanted nothing more in the world than him. Then he looked at the bottle in his hands.

“I know what to do and everything, but you need to talk to me. I 40

Marcy Jacks

don’t want to hurt you or anything because I go too fast or―”

“You won’t hurt me,” Storm said, becoming impatient as he held onto his dick. His hand quivered with the urge to release the organ or stroke it and let himself come, but he wanted John inside of him too much.

“You may be a virgin, but I am not. I can handle taking it better than you would expect, but I will still guide you if that is what you wish,” he added quickly.

John’s chest deflated as he sighed with relief. Without any prompting from Storm, he twisted off the little cap on the small bottle of conditioner and then shook out some of the vanilla-scented lotion into his palms.

Storm took in a deep breath and lifted his knees. He held the one up with his free hand, and for his other leg he put his foot down flat on the bed, which exposed his asshole for John’s to see.

“Jesus Christ,” he said, then looked down at himself. “Fuck.

Should’ve taken off my jeans, too.”

“Later. Put your fingers inside me. One at first, shift it in and out, then add a second.”

John put his hand, the skin of which was slick and soft because of the conditioner, on Storm’s knee for balance. He pressed his finger, which had been thoroughly coated with cheap, motel hair conditioner, against Storm’s pucker.

He didn’t push in right away, however. His finger circled Storm’s asshole, coating the ring of muscle. Storm quivered, his breathing picking up. He pressed the back of his head into the scratchy blankets, fighting against the building pleasure. “God.”

Then John pressed his finger inside, and Storm sighed.

He hadn’t even realized that he’d shut his eye, and when he opened it again, he noted the way John stared down at what he was doing with a fixed fascination. He was concentrating so hard on the task at hand.

“Add a second finger,” Storm said.

Hunted and on the Run

41

John looked at him then nodded, and Storm felt the intruding digit.

“Doesn’t