Chapter 14 #2
He straightened, reached into the bedside drawer, and removed a bottle. He squeezed a generous amount of lube onto his fingers, then slowly pressed one inside me, his gaze locked on my face.
“I know you can take one,” he murmured. “When you can take three, you’ll be ready for my cock.”
My breathing hitched and my belly quivered.
His cock—inside me.
My throat seized, and all I could do was nod.
Stefan moved in and out of my hole, taking his time, his eyes never straying far from mine, watching me. When he finally had three fingers wedged inside me, I moaned at the sensation of feeling so full.
“Ready?”
I nodded, and he lowered my legs, then rolled me onto my side, facing away from him. He nudged my top leg higher, then curled around me, his dick warm against my arse. Stefan guided the head between my cheeks, and I shivered.
He leaned over and kissed me, an unhurried intimate brushing of lips, and I moaned into it as he slowly pushed inside me.
I closed my eyes, wanting to burn this feeling into me, to remember him taking me, sliding into me, as if we had all the time in the world. I rested my head on my arm and his hand was on my hip, gently stroking me as he rocked in and out.
“Baby.” One breathless word that sounded like a prayer.
I lifted my leg and hooked it over his, and he held it there as he filled me to the hilt.
“Are you okay?”
I heard the care in his voice. “It’s good,” I assured him. I turned my head toward him, seeking his lips. Stefan kissed me, slow and sensuous, and I moaned into it. His lips grazed my shoulders and back, and I closed my eyes once more, letting myself feel all of it.
He picked up the pace, and I rocked back to meet his thrusts, loving how he slowed as we kissed, loving the awe in his voice as he murmured, “that feels so good.”
I curled my hand around my cock, tugging it, adding to the sensations, my breathing ragged and quick.
Then he paused and eased out of me. “Sit astride me?” He lay on his back.
I straddled his waist and bent low to kiss him, his hands on my neck, the back of my head.
“That’s better,” I whispered against his lips.
Now I could see him.
Stefan added more lube to his cupped palm, then guided the head of his dick back to my hole, gently sliding it inside me once again.
Except now both of us were moving.
He tilted his hips to fill me, and I rocked back and forth, letting myself sink lower onto his shaft. His hands were on my hips, my waist, helping me to rise and fall, to take more of him into me. I grabbed the headboard with one hand and rocked faster, our lips locked, our kisses constant.
“Good boy,” he murmured against my mouth. And then he was moving faster, fucking up into me, holding me still, making me shake with white-hot need.
“Turn around,” he ground out. “I want to watch my cock sliding in and out of that furry arse.”
I knelt up, his shaft freed, and turned, bringing his dick to my hole and impaling myself upon it—
And saw my reflection in the mirror on his wardrobe door.
I didn’t recognise myself. My face glowed, my chest and neck were flushed red, my dick dark and solid. I could see his cock penetrating me, thick and glistening.
I put my weight on one hand and grabbed my shaft with the other, pulling on it, fucking myself on Stefan’s dick, his hands stroking my back, my thighs, my hips…
“Touch your nipples,” he said with a hasp. “Play with your cock.”
I obeyed, and with each tug, each tweak, I was propelled closer and closer to the edge, until I arched my back and flung out his name as I came all over his sheets, shuddering as my orgasm jolted through me, speared through me, leaving me gasping for breath.
And through it all, Stefan held me, stroking me, caressing me.
When I was totally spent, he began to move again inside me, building speed, his breathing erratic and shallow. “Want to come inside you,” he said, his voice catching in a moan.
“Yes,” I cried out.
Then I felt it, a warmth that spread through me, a throb that felt incredible.
At last, Stefan eased out of me, and I lay beside him, his cock still coated with cum. He held me and kissed me, and little by little, my heart returned to its normal rhythm.
I didn’t want to move.
I didn’t want to lose those strong arms around me.
Stefan
Kieran lay beside me, his breathing still uneven.
I watched him for a moment, the way his chest rose and fell, the way his hand rested loosely against me as if it had simply stopped there and forgotten to move.
I stroked his back, an unconscious movement, as if to confirm he was still there.
I was used to this part, the quiet after, the space where things either deepened or began to pull away. I loved it when the body settled and the mind returned, drawing its lines, restoring its boundaries.
I’d always been good at that, at keeping things where they belonged.
At not letting a moment become more than it was.
So why does this feel different?
Kieran shifted closer, as if proximity was the natural state, not something to be negotiated.
Unexpectedly, I realised I didn’t want to interrupt it.
I closed my eyes for a moment.
Three days. That’s all it’s been.
But lying there, with him close, the warmth of him still present, the quiet of the room holding us in place, it felt longer.
Something has shifted.
I opened my eyes again and let out a slow breath, my gaze lingering on him.
This will end.
But with that understanding came with something else—a quiet resistance, not to the ending, but to the idea that this was only temporary.
I tightened my hand on him, just enough to feel the contact more clearly, and he moved closer this time, as if the movement had drawn him in rather than pushed him away.
He’s here for now. With me.
And whether I intended it or not, Kieran already mattered.