Chapter 87

Didn’t help though when Dean crawled between his legs, gave him a last twisted smile, and lowered his head. Dean placed his mouth over the bulge concealed only by a pair of small straining underpants.

The pressure of teeth and hot breath seeped through cotton…Christ! Jay’s eyes ached as they rolled up into his head. His body jolted, his grip testing the bed, making the whole platform rock. The thump that sounded might have been his heart starting up again, having missed a beat, or the headboard knocking into the wall.

“Thought you said we had to be quiet,” Dean said, mouth still so close to Jay’s dick that air wafted over one of Jay’s thighs.

Jay silently cursed Dean for the reminder. Two weeks of sexual frustration and a need to alleviate it quietly—could there be a more perfect torture? He held his breath, warding off laughter the same way he might have tried to cure hiccups. Fuck!