His Mafia Prince
Chapter 186: Only For You, Jericho

Chapter 186: Only For You, Jericho

(WESLEY)

When I get home, I drag my feet to my one-bedroom apartment. I’m cold and exhausted. I should find something to eat, but the idea of eating makes me feel nauseated. I strip and put the tea kettle on. I put on some warm pajamas. Once the kettle whistles in the other room, I make myself a cup of chamomile tea then crawl to the bed with the cup in my hand. The warm cup heats my chilled fingers as I blow on the steaming brew.

My apartment looks boorish. I haven’t bothered to decorate my apartment. I’m surrounded by bare, white walls. As a live in Manny, I never see the need to have so many material things. If I had bought so many material things, I would have to pay for storage whenever I was on assignment. For that reason, I don’t have a TV set or a stereo system. The silence in this apartment is almost oppressive.

Perhaps I should put more effort in my home to make it look more accommodating. But of late, I have no drive. I just go to work when scheduled and sleep on my days off. Part of the reason for that grogginess is pure depression. My life was going on really well before I went to work for the Caspar family. I was doing a job that I loved, a job that I felt was a positive influence to the world. Now? All I do is mope and sleep. My life fell apart after working for that family and meeting Jericho. I’m glad that I was there when those Irish men pulled an attack on Jericho. I’m glad that I was there to defend him. I can’t stand the idea of anything ever hurting him. But if I’m being honest, that was where all my problems started and my life began to unravel.

I sip my cup of tea as I stare into space. I hope to God that my family wasn’t involved in that attack because if they were, I’d hate them more than I already do. Sometimes, I have dreams of Danny and Papa finding me. The dreams are terrifying, especially because I don’t know what they would do if they found me in real life. They would be just as cruel as they are in the dreams.

Soon enough, I finish the tea and slide under the covers. Once again, my thoughts drift to Jericho. Oftentimes, I pretend that he is holding me in his arms. We have only slept together once, but the details of that afternoon are burned into my brain. My dick warms at the thought.

Tired as I am, my body aches for a release. My eyes close as I lie on the bed and my hand drifts to my cock. Just a touch has it inflating like a balloon. I don’t have sex on a regular basis, but it feels like forever since Jericho last textile touched me.

Ever since I was a kid, hitting puberty and all that, I realized that orgasms are a perfect way to calm the noises in my head. When the stress builds up and the noises become too much, the only thing that I can do to release the pressure is to get off. That said, regular jerking doesn’t cut to the chase anymore.

My hand slinks down to my balls and I begin to rub and squeeze them enough to make them hurt and my toes tingle. Using my right hand, I keep going on my nuts and use my left hand to grip my shaft hard.

"Mmh..." I can’t stifle the sound that escapes my throat as I tug. I picture Jericho behind my eyes, nudging my thighs apart as the heat of his warm breath hitting my rim. My pulse picks up as I stroke. Yeah. That’s right...

I gulp, needing more. I need something else.

My mind wanders to the way he kissed me hungrily, the way he fucked my mouth with his tongue. His plump wet lips and how he swallowed my gasps while fingering my ass.

My dick reacts to that image and I grunt. I feel it thicken and become steel hard in my hands. I slowly jerk myself up, teasing underneath my head as I imagine his face buried in my ass, arms locked atop my belly while his tongue occasionally works, pushing into the softness of my rim and licking around it. Him folding me so he can have a better angle to eat me out, to get a better view of me squirming beneath him. I imagine him teasing my slicked ass with his thumb before shoving it deep into my ass and enjoying the wanton faces I make.

A moan echoes in my mind, and his scent overpowers me.

It is overwhelming, the idea of him pleasing me, doing unspeakable things to me. But I have to wrap my head around it. I have to do it myself because he will never be here to do it for me. I need to come. I miss him, and my head is fucked up.

I need to reach an orgasm. I need to quiet down the voices in my head.

I lie back, settling into the mattress. I close my eyes and pretend that he is here between my thighs. I fondle my cock, which is hard as steel. It isn’t going down anytime soon. I’d give anything to have his knot growing inside of me now. To hold his warm seed in my womb. "Jericho," I whimper. "I wish you were here."

I gulp and imagine him looking at my hungry pulsing asshole, teasing it as I desperately wait for him to push inside.

I tug my pants down below my ass, keeping my eyes shut because I don’t want to let go of that fantasy. I don’t want it to go away. Saliva suddenly fills my mouth. I stroke my dick slowly, from balls to tip. It feels... better than it usually does, just jerking off, thinking of him.

My thighs burn as I dig my heels into the mattress. I wonder what Jericho would have done to me if he were truly here, would he nudge my thighs apart and plunge so deep inside my ass? Would he kiss me and fuck my mouth with his tongue and eat me out? I want that. I need it, desperately. I’d ride his dick and beg him to breed me and use me. Goosebumps prickle on my flesh as I imagine all manner of wanton things that I want him to do to me.

My head tilts back and I let out a soft gasp as my hand works my cock slow and hard. Just the way I like it. I jerk myself off, mind glued on Jericho. I imagine his gaze stuck on mine as he drives me nuts.

Part of me is disgusted at what I’m doing. What I’m doing right now sickens me. My gut twists with feelings of shame and unease, but my dick is still hard, it is always hard at the worst of times.

It is actually stretched and throbbing hard. My balls ache with the need to shoot.

With my left hand, I palm them. I fuck my fist hard, breathing through it. I imagine him telling me to keep going. I imagine him asking me how badly I had missed him. I groan then swipe the slick on my ass to get some lubrication before I burn my skin jerking off.

"You miss me, baby, don’t you?" I imagine his voice speaking to me. I almost feel a real voice ripple through me. "I know you do, so why did you run away from me?"

"I miss you, Jericho. I want you... so badly." I whimper, my eyelids drooping from how good the sensation feels.

"Hmmm yeah, I know you do. Show me how much you miss me. Fuck your fist, harder." For some reason, my cock throbs at the attention every time I imagine him talking to me. "You can’t control it, baby. You want my dick now, don’t you? You want me to come and fuck you, right?"

"J...jer―" I’m so helpless right now. His name on my lips without his actual presence here feels so bizarre, but my balls seize with the need to come. I lift my shirt to make sure I don’t come on it. I’m not sure that I’ll get up to find another one in the dresser.

"Right now, I just like how your lips gape."

What is that?

I focus on the orgasm because I already feel it coming. I want it. I need it.

My eyes roll to the back of my skull as I milk the orgasm out of me. "Come for me, Wes." Another voice sneaks in my head as I erupt into a staggering orgasm. I moan as ropes of cum decorate my abs. "Jericho...Jer―fuuuck! I’ll come for you. Only for you."

Too many days of backed up tension shoot out of my cock as I wring them out, my lips trembling through words that I can’t even make sense of. I swallow hard, blissed out in a daze. I finally come back to reality again and I can’t take my eyes off the ceiling. My fingers absentmindedly trail the slippery cum on my abs and I suck in deep breaths. I feel hollow without his cock inside of me. The orgasm feels good, but not as good as it would have been with Jericho’s dick inside my body.

Everything is quiet, just breaths. My breaths. Is this really what my life has been reduced to? Sad, solo jerking sessions while spending the rest of my life all alone? It has been a month since I left the Caspars’ house, yet my memories for Jericho are strong as though it were yesterday. The thought terrifies me. I don’t understand why I’m this attached to him. I can’t go back to him. But if I never try to move on, will I die alone?