Chapter 3: He Said Please. Then Took Me in His Mouth

I stared down at him.

Wes sat on the edge of the bed, legs spread, towel barely clinging to his hips. His eyes dragged up my body like he wasn’t sure if I was about to slap him or climb into his lap.

His fingers grazed my thigh — featherlight. Testing the waters.

“You always this quiet when you’re turned on?” he said, voice low, cracked at the edges.

I didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

I stepped in close. Close enough to feel the heat rolling off his skin. My hand slid into his hair, fingers tangling through the damp strands. He leaned into it like he’d been waiting for me to touch him for years.

The towel slipped off his shoulders, landing behind him in a quiet heap.

I dragged my thumb along the curve of his jaw. Felt the stubble bite my skin.

“Show me,” I said. “Show me you’re sorry.”His breath caught — just a hitch — and then he moved.

Hands slow. Careful. Like he was afraid he’d break the moment if he moved too fast. He pushed my shirt up, eyes tracing every inch of skin like it was sacred. I let him lift it over my head. Toss it aside.

He stared.

Like he didn’t believe I was real.

Then his mouth found my stomach — a soft, reverent kiss that made every muscle twitch.

Lower.

Lower.

His fingers trembled as he popped my belt. Dragged my zipper down. I kicked off my jeans and briefs, cock heavy between us.

Wes stared at it like he’d just found religion.

“I’ve never done this before,” he said, voice barely there. “Never even kissed a guy before tonight.”

I tightened my grip in his hair. Tugged just enough to make him look up at me.

“You sure you want to?”

“I need to,” he breathed. “Please.”

I didn’t say a word.

Just let him work.

Wes leaned in, mouth opening around the head of my cock. The first feel of his mouth was hot, wet and clumsy. I made my hips jerk forward without thinking. He sucked too tight at first. Didn’t know how deep to go. But fuck, it didn’t matter. It was Wes Carter. On his knees. Lips wrapped around my cock like he needed it to breathe.He gagged a little when he tried to take more, pulling back coughing, spit dripping down his chin.

“Fuck, that’s it” I breathed, tightening my grip in his hair.

He looked up at me, eyes wild, and then he went back in.Hungrier. Sloppier.His mouth slid lower, wet and greedy. Cheeks hollowing. Spit pooling at the corners of his lips. The sounds—loud, obscene—made my cock throb harder against his tongue.

Watching him — watching Wes Carter — my goddamn nightmare from college — with his lips wrapped around my cock, struggling, moaning, trying so hard — it almost broke me. I rocked my hips forward, feeding him more, and he took it. Gagged again but didn’t stop. His hands gripped my thighs like he needed to hold onto something real.