Page 54 of End It All

Despite what I said, the pleasure tickling the base of my spine said otherwise. I rocked back and forth, trying to ignore the heat of his fingers touching my hole but not penetrating me.

"I'm not a bottom." Usually, I topped more often than not. I switched on occasions. I couldn't refute the pleasure of taking dick, any sane man would agree it was amazing, but the way Blake was challenging me felt like he was trying to prove something.

Blake groaned around my length, sending delicious vibration straight to my balls. My thrusts stuttered as I gave into the pleasure.

"Fuck, you're playing dirty, baby girl." I snapped my hips forward, burying myself deep until Blake's nose touched my body. I squeezed his throat and nearly came. "??????????????????"Fuck, fuck. It feels so good. My voice sounded needy and desperate to my own ears as I moaned like a whore in heat.

I was right on the cusp of cumming, but I just couldn't get over that last bit. I glared down at Blake, knowing damn well what he wanted.

"Yes, you're the best I’ve ever had," I growled.

Blake shoved two fingers into my mouth. I lapped at them, curling my tongue around his digits and sucking on them before he yanked them free. Before I knew it, he pressed them inside of me and my mind went blissfully blank as pleasure ripped through every nerve ending. I rocked back and forth, fucking myself on his fingers and sliding my cock back down his throat. The sounds that filled the room were a symphony that I was the fucking star of. My moans bounced off the walls and I was too far gone to give a fuck how they sounded. He curled his fingers inside of me and sent me straight to heaven.

Or maybe it's hell. That was where all the fun people go, right?

I fell forward, barely catching myself as pleasure robbed me of all thought. My body was moving on its own as ecstasy built to new heights. Blake toyed with my prostate relentlessly. He had me panting and flipping between Japanese and English. I looked between us and lost it the very second I watched my cock disappear between Blake's abused lips again.

My climax slapped me hard, taking my breath with it for a split second. The entire world disappeared and I was wrapped tightly in a blanket of pleasure. I came down Blake’s throat, and the greedy fuck swallowed it down, drawing out more and more until I was a shaky mess. I didn't have the strength to pull myself free, not when he was still fucking my hole with his fingers like he could force me to cum back-to-back within the span of seconds.

I shivered, my arms losing strength with every passing second. The sounds of Blake feverishly stroking himself dragged another groan out of me. He released my cock with an audible pop. His lips were parted and almost looked good enough to kiss.

"So close," Blake whimpered.

My body reacted on its own. I pushed back, fucking his fingers again. I was sensitive. Every graze of his fingers over my prostate brought me closer to ruin.

"What's the matter, baby girl? You want to fill me with your cum again?" I teased, clenching around his fingers, secretly wishing it was his cock buried in me instead. He was turning my brain into mush and my body into something I didn't recognize. I was all for pleasure, but one time bottoming for him was cool. Seeking it out was another story.

"Yes," Blake groaned. "You feel good around my cock. I bet you want to be bred." He pressed against my prostate. "Your ass was meant to take cock." Hot splashes of cum hit my back as Blake's back bowed and he came. He stared at me the wholetime, dragging a need out of me that had no business ever coming to life.

Fuck.Nothing good came from fucking with a Vitale.

I stepped into another skyscraper,riding the elevator all the way up until I got to Vitale Constructions. To think, Benito ran a legitimate business. I had no idea the job he was going to have me do, but I also wasn't worried. Everything in life came at a price, and if I had to do something illegal, it wouldn't be the first time and it definitely wasn’t going to be the last. Apparently being a criminal ran in my blood.

A redhead with bright colored lips smiled at me the moment I walked into the office. People moved around in business attire. They all looked normal.

"Can I help you?" the woman asked.

I grinned back and sauntered over to her desk. Benito hadn't told me shit except to show up. I felt out of place, but this whole ordeal was out of my comfort zone. From my mom sending meaway, to me coming face-to-face with my so-called brothers, and then meeting the man who was responsible for my existence.

"Yes, actually, I'm here to see Benito Vitale."

Her smile dimmed just slightly and I knew when a rejection was coming my way before it even slipped past her painted lips. I tilted my head just slightly and made my voice softer.

"I love your Chanel sweater, it's from his 2003 fall collection, right?"

Her eyes widened and the smile was plastered back on her face. It was more genuine than when I'd first walked in.

She touched her sweater as if to remind herself of how soft it was. The only reason I knew about it was because it was the one thing my mother never parted with. Even when we didn't have anything to eat, she'd held onto one of the few things my father had given to her. She said it was special. I thought it was her way of holding onto memories that were better off burned to ashes.

"Yes, it's one of my favorites. They won't be bringing this color back for another five years. They had a variation a few months back, but there's nothing like the original line. You know?"

I nodded. "Yes, it compliments your eyes very well." Flirting came so easily to me, being the guy they wanted me to be. All you had to do was watch people, understand what they craved. If only it worked on Quincy. I had no clue why it didn’t, and honestly, I was starting to find it interesting. I had to go out of my way to find what made that batshit insane man tick.

Everyone needed attention, but me saying she had a beautiful smile or nice hair wasn't going to be enough. It was the subtle way she continued to check her sleeves, making sure there wasn't a single mark on her sweater or the fact she had a coffee with a lid that was on the furthest part of her desk instead of close by. All simple indications that let me know how important the piece of fabric was to her.

I kept up, leaning closer to her, and drawing out little tidbits of information from her. It was almost second nature.

"Hey, Tiffany, we need you in conference room three," someone shouted.