Chapter Six: No Questions Asked
Micah’s thighs were already trembling, and Kendrick hadn’t even done much yet.
That kiss had blown the doors open; hungry, claiming, everything Micah hadn’t let himself imagine too clearly. Now Kendrick was standing over him, thumbs rubbing slow circles along his thighs, like he was trying to ease him into whatever was coming next.
But Micah didn’t want slow.
Not tonight. Not after that game, that bet, that stretch, that look.
“Tell me what you want,” Kendrick said, voice low, gravel thick in his throat.
Micah looked up from the edge of the bed, chest rising and falling. “You already know.”
Kendrick didn’t need more than that.
He leaned in, grabbing the hem of Micah’s shirt and lifting it slowly, hands grazing warm skin, fingertips trailing along abs until the shirt was off and forgotten. His mouth followed the path his hands took, kissing down Micah’s chest, tongue flicking over a nipple just long enough to make Micah inhale sharply.
“You taste nervous,” Kendrick murmured.
“I taste ready.”
Kendrick chuckled against his skin. “Even better.”
Micah leaned back as Kendrick dropped to his knees, pulling Micah’s shorts down in one smooth motion. His boxers followed, and his dick sprang free, hard and leaking from how long he’d been on edge. Kendrick’s eyes darkened, gaze fixed like he’d just found the reward he’d been playing for.
He didn’t say a word, just grabbed Micah by the thighs and pulled him closer until he was on the edge of the bed, legs spread wide, toes curled against the frame.
The first lick was slow, a full, flat swipe from the base of his shaft to the tip that made Micah gasp and grab Kendrick’s shoulder.
Then Kendrick’s mouth wrapped around him.
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