Cade Maddox leans against his truck in the mall garage, shades low, smirk high. Fanboy’s already on his knees, jeans around his ankles, ass up against the concrete pillar. “You picked the spot, right?” Cade growls, unbuckling with one hand while filming with the other.
No lube. Just spit and that desperate grind as Cade rams into him, the fan’s face smashed against the driver’s side window. Horns blare two rows over—close. Fan whimpers, but Cade’s too busy skull-fucking him with a fist in his hair. “Louder. Let ’em hear you.”
Cum’s dripping down the guy’s thigh before Cade’s even done. “Clean it up,” he mutters, zipping his fly as the fan licks his own mess off the asphalt.
Leave a Comment