Free Entranced (A PowerUp! Story) by Marie Harte

became labored as she grazed his cock and continued to tease, massaging the base of his shaft and the taut muscle of his groin still trapped by his jeans.
    “They changed me, gave me drugs to enhance my abilities. I became stronger and better, but the side effects were hard. And then I left the PWP. Without the drugs to maintain my changes, I get overly aggressive. I have to work out to keep myself in control. That or fuck,” he growled. “I want to fuck you, so bad. You don’t know. And it’s worse, because…”
    She stopped touching him, needing to know more.
    “No, don’t stop,” he gasped.
    “Because why?” she urged and unbuttoned his jeans fully. He tilted his hips up without her having to ask, and she pushed his jeans down, freeing his heavy erection. She continued to push his pants down to his knees, enthralled that he’d gone commando. “Spread your legs as much as you can.”
    He groaned but pushed his knees apart, and she sat up so she could use both hands to cup him. His balls were hard yet soft, and so hot. Like his cock, thick and plump and full.
    “Yes. Oh fuck . Yeah. Kiss me there. Put your lips around me. You don’t know how many times I’ve dreamed this.” He moaned her name and pushed up into her hands.
    She nudged the shifting sleeping bag off them and slowly stroked him, learning his feel as she slid her hands up and down his long, fat shaft. Rubbing his balls and grazing his thighs, she continued to fondle him, loving how he followed her lead. His submission was so unlike the Jack she knew, the man who took charge of everything.
    “You want my mouth on you?” she whispered.
    “Yes,” he hissed.
    “Tell me what hurts. Why are you so angry, Jack?” she asked again, soothing his frayed anger with a psychic blanket of comfort, of safety.
    “Melissa,” he said on a curse and pumped in time with her hands. “Bitch was my partner. A person I trusted. And she set me up. Her lover invaded my mind, made me think things that weren’t true. She nearly killed me.” He groaned. “Damn it. Jump on. Suck me. Make me come. I’m hurting, and I’m so close…”
    She felt moisture over her palm, where his tip leaked. So aroused and thick. And she wanted to know more. “How long ago did this happen?”
    He tensed when she leaned closer and blew over his cockhead. She heard rustling and felt his hands in her hair. He didn’t push her, though. He waited.
    “Three and a half years ago,” he whispered.
    She licked his slit, and he shuddered and gripped her hair harder. Not enough to hurt but to show her he neared the edge of his control.
    “And?” she prodded, needing to know why he held himself back from her. Why he felt so empty and angry all the time.
    “And I found her too late. She was dead, killed by her lover, probably.” He rubbed her scalp. “Fuck. I don’t want to think about her. I hate her.”
    But you didn’t want her dead, did you? She felt his remaining pain, the real source of his hurt. It was more than rage, but a feeling of betrayal, and more, a sense of sadness. Jack seemed so tough and brutish. On the outside, he looked like a killer, a bear of a man who could crush his enemies with ease. Inside, he hungered for acceptance, even love. But he’d buried the need so far down, where it couldn’t hurt him anymore. Or so he thought. By shoving the pain so deep, he’d actually hurt himself more. He’d never be able to trust or love with that unease at his core.
    Heather refused to let it fester. Even knowing he might hate her later for taking advantage, she freed him from his pain. Psychically ripping away the ache of betrayal, she put her lips over his cockhead and took him as deep into her mouth as she could before she gagged.
    “Yes. Oh fuck. Please .” Jack surged up before bowing back down, his fingers tight on her head. He didn’t let go.
    Power hummed through them both, her energy entwined with his, and as she sucked and accepted the feel and taste of him, he