Read Online PsyCop 1: Among the Living by Jordan Castillo Price - Free Book Online
Authors: Jordan Castillo Price
Tags: mm
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his arm around me, led me to a floor-to-ceiling window and pulled open a set of vertical blinds.
The lake spread out before us, tiny lights flashing here or there where a boat floated at anchor, and the yellow grids of high rise windows glowing in my peripheral vision. I’m not usually one to go out of my way to see the sights, but the view from Marks’ window was pretty nice. “Wow.”
His hands slipped around my middle as I said it, and my breath hitched as he pulled my shirt from my waistband. I felt his palms glide over my bare stomach and I shivered as he fit himself to the curve of my back, his breath warm on my neck.
I tried to turn around and face him, but he had me spread up against the plate glass window and there was no way I’d be able to move unless he let me. He pressed into me harder, grazing the nape of my neck with his teeth as his hands slid higher. His fingers closed over my nipples and he took them gently, just rolling them, rolling, rolling, as his teeth combed my neck and the bulge of his cock rubbed against the back of my pants.
I reached back over my shoulder with one hand to see if I could touch him, stroke him, anywhere. But I was splayed like a bug on the glass and couldn’t do anything but writhe while Marks’ hands played over my chest and his mouth seared tingling trails over my neck. Eventually I stopped trying and just pressed my cheek into the window, my breath fogging the lake skyline until it took on the spectral look of the dead world that dogged my existence.
Marks teased my nipples until they were stiff and then squeezed them harder—just a little—until I groaned aloud and pushed my ass back against him. He pressed his teeth into me and held me there by my neck while his hands slid downward and made short work of my fly. My slacks pooled around my ankles and my cock stood out in my boxer briefs, the tip butting against the cool glass through the thin fabric.
Once my pants were off, Marks’ hands slid up my sides, along my ribs. They crossed themselves over my chest as he pressed himself into my back from chin to thigh. “Just stay there,” he said, his voice low and rough. “I want to get you off.”
Had he actually said that? Had anyone ever said that to me before? Ever? Another of my breaths bloomed against the window as Marks dropped to his knees behind me and took the waistband of my underwear between his teeth. My damp fingertips squeaked at the glass, searching for something to grasp, while Marks’ goatee whispered across the skin of my bare ass as he tugged my underwear down. The briefs got caught over my hard-on, which was now sticking up at an angle, and he nibbled around the plane of my hip and the bony crest of my pelvis as he worked at undressing me. My cock snapped free and the glass was colder than I thought it would be, though maybe the smear of precome I was painting there was giving me a chill.
His head dipped low as he wedged it under my butt and pressed his lips against my inner thigh, trailing his hot tongue in slow swashes that inched higher and higher. My legs trembled as I stepped out of the underwear and spread my feet, the length of my cock now forced vertically between my belly and the glass that was no longer cold; the heat of my body had warmed it.
Marks’ warm, damp breath enveloped the back of my balls as he sighed, and then his tongue was there, teasing at them as they shifted inside my scrotum, which wrinkled at the touch of his mouth. He kissed them and laved them and bathed them with his tongue, and all the while I jammed my cock against his window, squeaking it up, then down, and wishing there was something warm or wet or fleshy against it instead of a pane of hard, smooth glass.
“Please,” I mumbled against the window while his tongue traced the divot between my balls.
“Please what?” he said, his mustache tickling me right below the asshole while his hot breath had me squirming.
Damn him for making me say it. “Suck
The lake spread out before us, tiny lights flashing here or there where a boat floated at anchor, and the yellow grids of high rise windows glowing in my peripheral vision. I’m not usually one to go out of my way to see the sights, but the view from Marks’ window was pretty nice. “Wow.”
His hands slipped around my middle as I said it, and my breath hitched as he pulled my shirt from my waistband. I felt his palms glide over my bare stomach and I shivered as he fit himself to the curve of my back, his breath warm on my neck.
I tried to turn around and face him, but he had me spread up against the plate glass window and there was no way I’d be able to move unless he let me. He pressed into me harder, grazing the nape of my neck with his teeth as his hands slid higher. His fingers closed over my nipples and he took them gently, just rolling them, rolling, rolling, as his teeth combed my neck and the bulge of his cock rubbed against the back of my pants.
I reached back over my shoulder with one hand to see if I could touch him, stroke him, anywhere. But I was splayed like a bug on the glass and couldn’t do anything but writhe while Marks’ hands played over my chest and his mouth seared tingling trails over my neck. Eventually I stopped trying and just pressed my cheek into the window, my breath fogging the lake skyline until it took on the spectral look of the dead world that dogged my existence.
Marks teased my nipples until they were stiff and then squeezed them harder—just a little—until I groaned aloud and pushed my ass back against him. He pressed his teeth into me and held me there by my neck while his hands slid downward and made short work of my fly. My slacks pooled around my ankles and my cock stood out in my boxer briefs, the tip butting against the cool glass through the thin fabric.
Once my pants were off, Marks’ hands slid up my sides, along my ribs. They crossed themselves over my chest as he pressed himself into my back from chin to thigh. “Just stay there,” he said, his voice low and rough. “I want to get you off.”
Had he actually said that? Had anyone ever said that to me before? Ever? Another of my breaths bloomed against the window as Marks dropped to his knees behind me and took the waistband of my underwear between his teeth. My damp fingertips squeaked at the glass, searching for something to grasp, while Marks’ goatee whispered across the skin of my bare ass as he tugged my underwear down. The briefs got caught over my hard-on, which was now sticking up at an angle, and he nibbled around the plane of my hip and the bony crest of my pelvis as he worked at undressing me. My cock snapped free and the glass was colder than I thought it would be, though maybe the smear of precome I was painting there was giving me a chill.
His head dipped low as he wedged it under my butt and pressed his lips against my inner thigh, trailing his hot tongue in slow swashes that inched higher and higher. My legs trembled as I stepped out of the underwear and spread my feet, the length of my cock now forced vertically between my belly and the glass that was no longer cold; the heat of my body had warmed it.
Marks’ warm, damp breath enveloped the back of my balls as he sighed, and then his tongue was there, teasing at them as they shifted inside my scrotum, which wrinkled at the touch of his mouth. He kissed them and laved them and bathed them with his tongue, and all the while I jammed my cock against his window, squeaking it up, then down, and wishing there was something warm or wet or fleshy against it instead of a pane of hard, smooth glass.
“Please,” I mumbled against the window while his tongue traced the divot between my balls.
“Please what?” he said, his mustache tickling me right below the asshole while his hot breath had me squirming.
Damn him for making me say it. “Suck
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