Past…

Mrs. Miller twists against her restraints. “I’m not sure.” Her chest heaves, lifting those heavy tits high. “I can’t see either of you with this blindfold on.”

Damien circles her nipple with the tip of his finger. “You can’t?” He looks at me and I give it a little flick with my tongue. “Such a shame.”

Damien tsks. “I thought you were a fortune teller, Mrs. Miller?” He slaps her tit and it jiggles against my mouth. “What do you say we try this one more time?” Pushing his hips forward, he sinks inside her. “Whose cock is this?”

You’d think it would be weird sharing with another guy, but it’s not. If anything, it adds to the thrill of the illicit act. I’m starting to see why Damien prefers screwing women he shouldn’t.  

“Come on, Kristy. Is it me or Cain?”

“I don’t know.”

He slams into her and she moans. “Oh, fuck.”

I pinch her nipple. “It’s like you’re not even trying, Mrs. Miller.”

She starts to answer, but Damien withdraws himself and we switch places. We’ve been playing this little game with her for the last hour. Every time she attempts to answer, we change positions.  

And then we tease her all over again.

Slowly, I proceed to feed her my cock. “Good girls get rewarded.”

Lowering his head, Damien blows on her pussy. “You want to be rewarded, don’t you?”

The cool air sends a tingle through my balls and I shift uncomfortably. I know he’s only toying with her, but his mouth is dangerously close to my junk. And while Damien and I might have similar sexual interests, and I don’t mind sharing her with him—I’m not into dudes. I’m pretty sure he’s not either, considering he fucks everything in a skirt.

“Yes,” Mrs. Miller rasps. “I want you both to make me come.”

He purses his lips. “Then tell us who’s inside you.”

Chills race over my skin when he does it again. It’s hard not to have a physical reaction when your cock is buried to the hilt inside a cunt and someone else’s mouth is hovering over it…blasting air.

Eyes on me, his mouth inches closer to her pussy. “Answer the question, Mrs. Miller.”

Nerves zip up my spine. My breathing turns choppy. One wrong move and he’ll be touching us both.

He nips her pubic bone and she hisses. “I don’t know. You both have big dicks.”

That has us grinning.

Parting her lips with two of his fingers, he strikes her clit with the tip of his tongue. “We appreciate the compliment, but we’re still not letting you come until you tell us whose big dick is inside you.”

But she won’t, because that’s part of the game.

When she doesn’t answer, he repeats the movement, only this time he sucks the entire bud into his mouth, causing his lips to ghost over my shaft.

I freeze. However, my dick twitches, clearly not opposed to the action.

“Please.” Her hips buck and I groan. “I want to come so bad.”

He releases her clit with a wet plop. “That’s up to Cain.”

I swallow hard.

Smirking, Damien plants a kiss above her pussy. “Look at this hot little cunt, just begging to be eaten properly.” His kisses descend. “Don’t you think she deserves that, Cain?”

“Pretty please,” Mrs. Miller begs as Damien’s tongue circles her clit.  

I pull back slightly, giving Damien more room to work.

“Oh, fuck.”

Whatever he’s doing to her must feel great because she mewls and clamps my tip like a vise.

Damien’s mouth edges closer, the corners of his lips tickling my skin. A low grunt rips from my throat and we stare at one another, both of us panting. His gaze drops to my glistening dick, half of which is still buried inside our teacher.

His eyes darken.

I can’t tell if it’s a challenge, or if he’s offering me an out.

I draw in a lungful of air. Why am I so freaked out about this?

It’s not like it’s the other way around. A mouth is a mouth. And this mouth isn’t mine, so it doesn’t matter where it goes. If Damien wants to up the ante for himself, I’m not going to stand in his way. Besides, everyone in the room knows I’m only here for the pussy.

He tears his gaze away and I watch as he continues working over Mrs. Miller’s swollen bud. Blood rushes in my ears, the anticipation of what he’s about to do—or not going to do—has my dick throbbing so hard I feel like I could nut from that alone.

Which is strange as hell, because I enjoy having all the control. Yet here I am, wondering if Damien’s mouth is ever going to move that half a centimeter.

Shame slams into me, because it’s not something I should be thinking…but it’s washed away by white-hot pleasure when his tongue slides along my length for the briefest of moments before going back to licking her pussy.

Heat sears my skin and I stop breathing.

Damien’s lips curve into a smirk. “You like that?”

My retort stalls in my throat—and thank fuck—because I realize he’s talking to Mrs. Miller.

“Yes, I’m so close. Don’t stop.”

My throat bobs on a swallow and right when I’m about to start thrusting because I have to release all this pent-up tension, his tongue glides up and down my shaft again…slower this time.

My whole body vibrates in response.

“Fuck,” I groan. I’m suddenly thankful he had the good sense to blindfold Mrs. Miller because I grab the bedsheets, coming so hard the bed shakes.

And Damien—the fucker—continues licking her pussy filled with my cream, causing aftershocks that have my head spinning.

A few moments later, Mrs. Miller orgasms and Damien shoots his load all over her face before he unties her.

I, however, am lying on the bed, wondering what the hell just happened and how I got here. If someone told me three weeks ago that Damien King would play a part in the best sexual experience I’ve ever had, I’d kick them in the junk and tell them to get a psych evaluation.

“Crap,” Mrs. Miller says after she wipes off her face. “I’m late. Chad’s home already.”

Damien reaches across his nightstand for his cigarettes. “Tell him you stayed after the dance to clean up.”

“Good idea.” She gathers her things and blows us both a kiss. “Take care, boys. Be good.”

“And that,” Damien says after the door closes behind her. “Is why she’s my favorite.” He takes a long drag off his cigarette. “She doesn’t overstay her welcome.”

I start to get off the bed, but he shakes his head. “Relax, that wasn’t a dig. Bros over hoes, remember?”

Taking the cigarette from his hand, I bring it to my lips and inhale. Surprisingly, Damien doesn’t laugh or make fun of me when I start coughing. He just takes another one out of the pack and lights it.

And that’s how we stay for a while. Sitting in the dark, chain-smoking—while staring at his gigantic neon-lit fish tank.

“What kind of fish is that?”

The tank alone has to be at least two-hundred gallons, it’s strange he would opt to only have a single fish in it. Although the fish is kind of cool looking.

“Red-bellied piranha.”

I look for signs he’s joking, but there are none. “I don’t know if that makes you a bad-ass or a psychopath. Don’t they eat humans?”

He blows out a thick line of smoke. “Nah. Most species of piranhas are harmless. There are only two types that attack humans.”

“What are they?”

“Black piranhas.” A menacing smirk unfurls, and his eyes harden. “And red-bellied piranhas.”

I recoil, wondering if I should attack first and ask questions later.

His lips quirk. “Don’t worry, he was fed recently.” When I make a face, he laughs and says, “Fish. Not humans.”

“What made you choose a piranha in the first place?”

His expression goes slack and I swear the room drops a few degrees. “My mom. I lived with her before she kicked the bucket and I moved in with my dad.” His jaw sets. “Long story short, she was a dope head. Wasn’t much of a mother. Most of the time she forgot I existed.”

He reaches for a bottle of Jack Daniels on the nightstand and takes a swig. “I went hungry more often than not. But my mom…” He laughs, but there’s not a drop of humor. “She was obsessed with these fucking fish. The only time she’d pay me any attention was to remind me to feed them before she shot up.”

He drags a hand over his scalp. “It was always, ‘feed my fish for me, Damien,’ and ‘Damien, don’t forget to feed my fish.’ The bitch was obsessed.” He shrugs. “But I did it. No matter how many days she was gone. No matter how hungry or lonely I became…I always made sure to feed her goddamn fish. Because it was her thing…the only thing she ever gave a shit about other than dope.” His expression turns solemn. “On my thirteenth birthday, my father sent me fifty bucks like he did every year. And as usual, she got to it before I could. She spent forty-five dollars on dope and five on fish food. Left none for her son.”

His eyes become glassy and he clears his throat. “The dope she bought with it must have been powerful because when I came home from school, I found her dead on the kitchen floor.” He draws in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “After I called an ambulance, I walked down to the local aquarium store for some more fish food, but something else caught my eye. The owner of the store was pretty cool, usually gave me a lot of stuff for free, and when I told him I wanted it, he said it was mine.”

The hairs on my neck lift as he continues. “I ran back home before the ambulance got there and kissed my mother goodbye. Then, I walked over to the pretty fish and gave them some food.” His eyes crinkle at the corners. “While they were eating, I dumped my new red-bellied piranha in the tank.” His teeth flash white. “And fed my fish.”