Epilogue #3
“This reminds me of the first time we met,” he giggles, before putting the fabric between his lips again. Infuriating and cute. Yeah, I gagged him that night as well, but my intentions were quite different back then. How things change.
I make a knot on the back of his head, loose enough for him to push the tie down, and being careful not to ruin his hair, or he won’t let me hear the end of it.
“Do you remember our safeword?” I kiss his nape.
He nods and winks. Apples. Not that he has ever used it.
I lift his hips, positioning him how I want, like the sexy toy he is only here for me to fuck. And the sight of him ready for me, legs spread, high heels, wet hole on display, shuddering with desire, makes my dick weep. I stroke it, letting pre-cum slick the red tip.
Art turns his head back and mumbles something, looking straight at it, but I can’t understand him. So he repeats it more slowly.
“Please, make it hurt.”
He is the embodiment of every seductive, erotic, filthy dream I could ever have.
I firmly grip him around the waist and then slam into him in one violent thrust. He cries around the necktie, clawing at the ottoman, his ass clamping viciously around me as I fight not to unload inside him.
I let out a guttural, deep growl. Fuuuuck, I’m finally inside him again.
I’ve been physically in pain the last four days, yearning for his warmth.
His wet hole molds so perfectly around the shape of my dick.
He starts moving, fucking himself on my length, and moaning like a whore while showing me how much he missed my cock.
It’s so hot how he is taking what he needs.
How he’s using me for his own pleasure. I feel like a fucking dildo as I look at his ass riding me with fast, long thrusts.
I grunt, stroke his ass cheeks, and look down at where we are joined, at my entire length sliding in and out of his stretched heat.
I’m slick with his juice, the vision driving me fucking insane.
I grab the end of my necktie and pull his head back as I begin snapping my hips, fucking into him hard and rough. My only aim here is to use him until I come.
“You are right where you belong, on the end of my dick,” I murmur, eyes still on the bouncing flesh, jerking, taking a hard pounding. It’s fucking hypnotic.
“Fuck me rougher.” I think he moans around my tie. But instead, I slow down, too taken by his squelching hole opening so beautifully around me. All pink and shiny, gaping and stretched, and still clenching rhythmically. I spit on it even though lube is still coming out.
After a few seconds, I hear him practically sobbing. “Why did you stop?” he mumbles.
My dick is throbbing like it has a life of its own. I hiss, starting to piston my hips again. I’m turning ravenous, wild, rutting like an animal.
“Work it, slut.” I slap his bouncing ass cheeks. “Squeeze that tight hole and make me come. You’re sucking it so good.”
I’m already so damn close. I waited too long for this.
I slide my hands under his thighs to spread him wider, battering into him.
His cries are driving me insane. I grunt as I keep the tempo, pulling hard on my tie.
I fucking love to have him so vulnerable under me, trusting I’ll give him what he needs.
My ruthless rhythm becomes erratic as Art forces the climax out of me.
His hole starts squeezing me, and I hold his ass snug against my pulsing cock to stuff him with hefty ropes of hot jizz.
Fuck yes! This is it. My fuck hole. Mine.
I keep giving it to him and groaning as I fill him up nice and full. After a minute, I pull out, savoring his shivering body as cum seeps out of him.
“You look like a used whore filled with jizz,” I rumble, licking my lips.
I let my dick rub against his ass crack, head kissing his wrecked pucker, balls brushing his cheeks. Fucking shit, I like to see my slick length gliding over his red, slick skin. I feel like beating my chest for how well I worked him.
“Feel that against your balls? It’s my cock throbbing, still hungry for a taste of your hole.” I growl.
He lets out a moan. His back is rising and falling, sweat dripping down his pale skin, necktie still in his mouth.
“When I was away, I kept wondering if you were crazy enough to leave me again,” I suddenly confess, caressing his spine.
He tenses, and I grip his hips hard in my hands, feeling the dreadful feeling spreading inside my chest again. He pushes his torso up and takes off the gag, turning to face me.
“This again?” He frowns at me.
I lift him in my arms and sit on the sofa with him on my lap.
“I am crazy, but I’ll never—” A scream rips out of his throat as I shove him down and impale him on my dick, stopping whatever he was going to say.
This fear I feel is irrational because deep down I know Art won’t ever run away again. But I like to remind him where he belongs, in my arms, on my cock.
“I’ll fuck any remaining idea of fleeing out of your mind,” I tell him, feeling his slick, narrow heaven around me again.
“Now ride the big cock you can’t live without.”
Art
What is this, my mea big-time culpa? In the last month, almost every time we’ve fucked, he’s reminded me of it.
Such a ruthlessly protective and desperately obsessed wacko.
I need to convince him somehow that I have no intention whatsoever to leave.
How can I when just looking at him takes my breath away?
Those cheekbones that can slice my hand, long, brown hair, dark eyes, adorable, thick eyebrows, sexy scars marring his face, and a muscular body.
Right now, running is the last thing on my mind.
He feels too good inside me, it’s like I can sense every vein of his big, thick, hard cock, and all I can think about is I belong with him—and his humongous schlong.
The last few days have been very hard. It was the first time we’ve parted since my almost-wedding.
In the past, I’d kept moving so that my thoughts didn’t sink in.
I’d kept myself busy. Since I met him, though, he’s filled all of them.
So when he left, every time I thought about him, my head felt hot like it was about to burst, and my throat burned with an unquenchable thirst. My ass though, that was the strongest response, it was screaming like a banshee bitch demanding to be filled.
But now he is here, and his scent is all over me again—tobacco and lavender, underlaid with whiskey and something unidentifiable that has my breath catching. Because I know that I’m addicted to it, to every little thing about Luca Nero.
The lube he shot up my ass is killing me. Every twitch, every little friction of his dick intensifies that tingling sensation inside me, and the warmth…has turned into a hot inferno. I take a deep breath, gripping my dick, pleasure growing inside my belly.
I lay my hands on his chest and start twerking on his thick shaft, shaking my ass and taking only the tip in—teasing him and myself.
“Keep making those slutty sounds and fuck my dick to the root.” God, his commanding tone almost makes me come right here and now.
Eager for it, I quickly drop down all the way, enjoying his curses as he grabs my hips in a bruising grip.
“I can feel your cock all the way up here.” I touch a place under my stomach as I keep giving it shallow thrusts.
His fingers push on my abdomen until they feel it.
“Make me sore, baby, I miss it,” I whisper seductively, letting my tongue flatten on his chin. That cleft is so sexy. I give it a long lick. His stubble felt so good around my asshole and over my skin before.
He slaps my ass hard, then takes a handful of it, squeezing the flesh painfully in his hand.
His other hand runs up my sides and chest, sending continuous electricity through my whole body.
Until it reaches my tattoo, to Live is to Bleed.
He strokes his thumb over it while his index finger finds the hoop on my nipple and pulls. A cry leaves my throat.
“I’d bleed you a river if it meant you’d stay with me.” He growls against my neck, sucking on my skin, as goose bumps erupt on my skin at his overwhelming statement.
“Just live with me,” I whisper. He lifts his head, locking our eyes for a long moment, before he grabs my hair and slams his mouth over mine.
It’s a battle, his tongue darting in and out.
The taste of whiskey and his sexy manly flavor—with a hint of mine—is all over his lips, and I lap at it greedily.
“Show me how much you missed it. Make my cock breed your asshole until it gets all swollen and stuffed.” His baritone drawl has me gasp with undiluted desire, and I wrap my arms behind his neck and slam down into him.
Every move is so intense. My eyes are wide, fingers digging into his shoulders as my thrusts have grown a little erratic. It’s because I’m already close to letting go. Untouched. My cock is leaking and desperate once again, but the light stroke against his abs is all I get, and it’s not enough.
“I need to come.” I hear myself begging. I expect him to tease me, but instead, he pushes us down against the sofa, me on my back as he falls on top and starts nailing me into the cushions.
“Gasping like a cat in heat, demanding more cock. My filthy, greedy bitch can’t get enough,” he hisses, giving me a couple of hard thrusts, hitting my prostate bullseye. “Fuck, I can hear my cum sloshing around inside of you, my cock is drowning in it.”
His last statement makes my eyes roll inside my head, stealing away any rebuttal I might have had.
I cry out in pleasure and pain, so tangled together I can’t distinguish them.
It hurts so good. I grip the edge of the sofa to balance myself as he impales me again, holding my hips in place while rocking me onto his hard cock.
His national treasure is so far inside me I feel it in my throat.
I jerk my length, desperate for release, but he lets go of my hip to push my hands over my head.