Filthy Little Secret Read online Devon McCormack

Categories Genre: Gay, GLBT, M-M Romance, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 73828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
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He pulls out and turns me on my back again, pulling my left leg up against his body as he pushes inside me again.

My pre-come leaks out and pools onto my stomach.

He cups my balls—already swelling with pressure—and massages them along with the base of my shaft. Like he’s trying to milk me. He pulls my leg out of his way, but holds it while continuing to stimulate my balls and shaft. He leans down and whispers, “How does it feel knowing you come when I make you come? Knowing that I can stop at any point?”

I’m not sure how to answer.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks.

“No, please,” I beg. I’m not pretending. It feels so good, and the idea of him withholding these sensations terrifies me.

“Oh, ’cause you like it. You like how it feels.” He licks my cheek and moves down to my ear. He nibbles at my earlobe, and it’s too much for me.

The pressure in my cock builds and builds, my orgasm starting in my pelvis and shaking through my body. Come shoots across my stomach and drips up to my chest.

I don’t realize until I finish, but I’m shouting.

With the hand he used to cup my balls, Tim caresses my torso and then tastes the mess.

“Kiss me,” he demands.

And I do. He pushes my seed into my mouth and then unleashes a cry as his body jerks forcefully, his cock hitting my ever-sensitive prostate as he reaches his own climax.

Amazing. Intoxicating. Breathtaking.

He undoes my cuffs, and as we recover from the incredible fuck, he pulls out and discards the condom before returning and lying beside me in the bed.

He removes the mask and sets it on the nightstand before rolling toward me, his hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead. He runs his fingers through it, brushing it to the side.

“Damn, kid,” he says, beaming. “You got some nasty fantasies, don’t you?”

I chuckle.

“You’re the one who said you’d do it,” I say.

“It was pretty fucking hot, you filthy ass.”

He likes calling me that, and I like it, too.

These past few months have been like being trapped in the best porn ever. We’re each other’s dirty secrets. We see each other at school, but don’t ever say anything. Occasionally, we catch each other’s glances and exchange knowing looks.

“What’s for dinner?” he asks.

“I can go again if you need some protein,” I tease.

He crawls back down my body and licks up a bit that remains on my abs. “I can at least get a little more now.”

He moves back up to me and licks across my lips. “There,” he says. “Think I’m good on protein now. Might need a few carbs, though. Watchu got?”

He hops out of bed and heads out the door, totally naked. I throw on a pair of boxers before following after him.

He checks the cabinets and pantry while I sit on a stool at the bar beside the kitchen.

“Dude, you need to go grocery shopping,” he says as I head into the living room and pick the remote up off the coffee table, turning on an episode of RuPaul’s Drag Race that I DVRed.

“I know I fucking need to go to the store,” I say. “I didn’t realize I was going to be feeding two people here.”

He turns to me, his smile broad. He’s spent a lot of time here for dinners. He never stays the night because he wants to get home to his nanna, who he texts every once and a while like an obsessive overbearing parent…like my fucking mother. But I get it. I know what it’s like going through chemo with someone…worrying about them…wanting to make sure they’re okay. I think our time together has helped him, though.

“Well, I’ll take some Chef Boyardee and a couple cans of soup please,” he says.

“Shut up. I’m not your mother.”

Although, as I say it, I want to take it back. It was an expression, but it reminds me of his crap parents.

“I’ll pick up some things before I come over tomorrow,” he says. “Maybe I can grab one of those pizzas we like.”

I always buy a bunch of freezable pizzas that I can bake throughout the week, and since Tim’s spent more time over here, he’s found he likes them too.

I set the remote back down on the coffee table and sit on the couch.

He grabs a box of Froot Loops from the pantry and fixes himself a bowl.

It’s cute watching him walk around my little kitchen, his dick wagging about as he prepares his less-than-nutritious meal.

The more time we’ve spent together, the more I understand why it got so difficult for Keith.

Although we use fucking as the excuse to be around each other, there’s an awful lot of time when we’re not fucking. In the beginning, for the first week or two, he’d come and go. But after some time, he started sticking around to eat with me. Seemed like it was the easiest thing to do. Eating with me turned into watching TV with me, which is when we discovered our mutual obsession with RuPaul’s Drag Race. Before we started fucking, we’d both watched all the seasons, and now we’re caught up and re-watching them together. Commenting. Laughing. Joking about the contestants. It was just something to do between fucks back when we started, but it’s also made Tim seem more like a friend than a fuck buddy. And that’s a dangerous direction for things to be heading in.


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