Chapter 39 Scottie #2
He reaches into the nightstand, grabbing a small bottle, and the soft click of the cap being flipped open sends a shiver racing down my spine.
The mattress dips as he moves between my legs, the breadth of his shoulders forcing my thighs wider.
His mouth closes around my clit, a slow, languid stroke of his tongue that pulls sound straight from the depths of me.
“Gav,” I gasp, fingers twisting in the sheets before sliding up into his hair.
His responding groan vibrates against me, deep and hungry, and I swear I feel it everywhere.
He works me open with his mouth, slow circles, teasing flicks, long strokes that build and build and build until my thighs tremble around his head.
My breath hitches, my whole body tightening around the sensation.
He pulls back just slightly, enough to look up at me from between my thighs.
As he continues to work his mouth over my pussy, one of his fingers slides further, slicked with lubricant and traces a slow circle over my back entrance, pressing a little more each time until the tip of his finger is inside.
The feeling is different but not unwelcome.
My breath catches, a small, startled sound escaping me as my body tries to understand the newness of it—the slow stretch, the unfamiliar pressure, the way my muscles flutter around his touch. It’s careful. Intentional.
“Breathe,” Gavin murmurs against my inner thigh, his voice hushed and warm, lips brushing my skin.
I exhale shakily.
His hand stays steady, giving me time to adjust as he presses a kiss to the inside of my knee.
“You’re doing so good.”
His mouth reclaims my pussy, tasting, teasing, keeping me pliant as another finger works to join the other.
The stretch is slow and careful as the second finger slips in.
He starts moving them together, gentle pumps, a soft rhythm.
I look down at the moment his tongue flatten over my pussy, his heated stare unwavering.
“When you can take three, then you’ll be ready.”
I inhale sharply.
His cock is a lot bigger than the width of three fingers. But I trust him, with not just my body, but with everything.
Using the same pattern, he works me up to three fingers.
The stretch is deeper this time—fuller—my body fluttering and gripping around him without my permission. A whine claws its way out of my throat, my hips arching into his mouth and his hand at once.
“Fuck, Scottie. You’re stretching like a dream.”
Heat washes over me. Hot and dark, pride blooming low and molten.
His fingers move slower now—long, lazy strokes—letting my body learn him, shape itself around him. His free hand strokes my thigh, soothing where everything else is overwhelming.
“Tell me how it feels,” he says, eyes flicking up to meet mine, mouth still open against my inner thigh.
I swallow hard, breath catching. “I…I feel full. Stretched. But…good. Really good.”
He smiles, watching. “Yeah,” he says, voice gone thick. “Just like that, baby.”
My muscles relax around him, recognizing him, accepting him, and the pleasure begins to roll.
I gasp, fingers twisting in into the mattress. “Gavin, I—”
His fingers eases out of me, withholding my orgasm.
“You’re going to come on my cock.”
It’s not a question, it’s a demand.
And fuck if it doesn’t drive me wild.
He rises up, sitting back on his heels and arranges me to turn on all fours, my knees on the mattress, palms flat, ass in the air.
His hands move over me, tracing my spine, my hips, the curve of my ass. I hear the sound of the bottle again, and then his fingers are back, warm and slick, working more lube over my hole, circling, easing, never rushing.
“Relax, baby. I’m going to go nice and slow.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding, muscles loosening one slow inch at a time. He works his fingers in that same steady rhythm—patient and hypnotic—until the stretch stops feeling foreign and starts feeling good. Deep. Wanting.
My forehead drops to the mattress, a quiet sound falling from me before I can stop it.
“Ready?”
I nod, my breath coming in ragged.
He gives a light smack to one of my ass cheeks. “Use your words, starlet. I’m not claiming your ass and making that hole mine to fill until you tell me that you want this.”
“Yes.” I gasp, the anticipation building in me almost too much to handle. “Put your cock in me. Fuck my ass.”
“Fuck,” he murmurs. “The prettiest mouth full of the filthiest words.”
I hear the squeeze of more lube, feel the warmth of it flood my back entrance, before the head of his cock nudges ever so slightly.
He presses forward slowly—carefully—letting my body take him, letting me choose each inch. The stretch burns and blooms all at once, fullness building until my breath halts.
I gasp, fingers tightening in the sheets.
His forehead touches the center of my back, his breath warm and uneven against my skin.“You’re doing so fucking perfect.”
I swallow. “Move, Gavin. Please.”
There’s a sound from him before he pulls back and rolls his hips into mine, slow and deep. My whole body lights up, pleasure unfurling in one long, breathtaking sweep.
“Gav—” I choke out, everything inside me tightening, curling, reaching.
His grip on my hips firms, holding me right where he wants me. “Fuck,” he pants, voice frayed. “You’re stretched around my cock so well, your hole is gripping me like it never wants to let me go.”
I moan into the mattress, a deep guttural sound.
“I’ve got you,” he says right at my shoulder, his chest brushing my back as he leans over me. His fingers find my clit, slow circles that sync with the lazy thrust of his hips.
A choked sound rips out of me.
The fullness behind me, the pressure of his fingers in my pussy—it’s almost too much. Too much in the exact right way. My legs tremble, my elbows give a little, my face dipping toward the mattress.
He follows, chest pressed to my back, his arm wrapping beneath me to hold me up.
“Stay with me,” he whispers, guiding my hips back into his every thrust, fingers still working me. “Let me have all of you.”
My fingers claw at the sheets, my body trying to curl in on itself, to contain the heat flooding through me. I try to breathe. I can’t. It’s too much. It’s good.
“Gavin—” my voice breaks.
“I know,” he says, like he feels every inch of it too. “This ass was made for me to ruin. And you’re loving every minute of it, aren’t you?”
His hips pick up the pace just slightly—not fast, just deeper, more deliberate—his fingers matching it, circling, pressing, until my thighs start to shake.
“Yes—” I gasp, voice barely a sound.
He presses his mouth to my shoulder, a groan dragged from his chest.
“Let go,” he breathes against my skin. “Come on my cock.”
It’s a whole-body collapse—heat and light and shaking and breathless, my knees giving out and my head falling forward into the sheets. He holds me through it, his arm keeping me from slipping, his hips still moving as he fucks me through the waves.
He pulls out slowly, hands steadying my hips as he does, guiding me gently down onto my side. He lies behind me immediately, chest to my back, arms wrapped around.
He presses a kiss to my shoulder, tightening the hold around my waist until there’s no space left between us.
Our skin is damp, slick with sweat and lube, our breaths still uneven—we’re a mess.
A beautiful fucking mess.