Chapter 29 Adrian #2
His hands work at my shirt with surprising dexterity despite the obvious urgency. Buttons slip free, fabric parts, and then his mouth is on my chest, tongue tracing patterns that make me bite back a moan.
Undressing becomes frantic and urgent. Expensive formal wear hits the canvas floor. His hands shake slightly as they work at my belt, and the vulnerability of that small tremor makes something clench tight in my chest.
When he positions me to face the tent opening, his chest pressed against my back, I can see the grand finale beginning.
Firework after firework launches into the sky, creating cascades of light that reflect off the water.
But all I can focus on is the feel of him behind me, the way his breathing sounds ragged and desperate in my ear.
“Look at me,” he commands, and I catch his reflection in the tent’s translucent wall. In the shifting light of the fireworks, his face looks fierce, possessive, like he’s claiming something that’s always belonged to him. “I want to see your face when I make you mine.”
The words send heat spiraling through me, and when he finally moves, the sensation is so intense I nearly collapse.
He sinks to his knees, his hands freeing my cock from my pants and underwear, and his mouth closes over me with a wet, greedy precision that has me arching instantly.
The fireworks outside explode in brilliant golds and deep blues, but their light is nothing compared to the heat flooding through me as he takes me in, lips and tongue worshiping me with meticulous care.
I grip his hair, shivering as he teases, sucks, and swirls his mouth around me, his tongue tracing and flicking along my cock.
The raw, unrestrained moan I make mixes with the distant thunder of celebration.
His fingers trail along my hips before moving lower, teasing closer to my crease, exploring with purpose as he removes the rest of my clothing and tosses it aside.
He spreads my thighs, hooks my leg over his shoulder, positioning me so he can reach every sensitive place.
His mouth glides over the soft skin of my taint, licking, flicking, and tasting, until his tongue finds my hole and plunges inside.
I cry out in surprise, the shock sending a jolt of heat straight to my core, and he hums against me, a low, possessive sound that makes my chest contract with need.
“Louder,” he growls, pressing his face against me. “I want to hear exactly how you feel.”
I do, letting my voice ride every movement of his mouth and fingers, surrendering to the sensations that make my knees tremble and my hands clutch him closer.
His lips leave my cock to trail up my stomach, chest, and neck, while his fingers continue their insistent exploration, teasing and sliding in and out of my ass with a rhythm that has me shivering and arching into him.
I can feel him memorizing me, mapping me, claiming every inch of skin and nerve like a painter tracing the contours of a masterpiece he’s waited a decade to touch.
He rises, pulling me up to straddle his hips, crushing me against him in a kiss that tastes of desire and devotion, teasing, and hunger. His hands roam over my back, down my sides, along my thighs, and I grind down instinctively, aching for every part of him.
“Tell me I can make love to you right here,” he whispers, teeth grazing my ear, voice rough and dangerous.
“Yes.” I gasp, shivering with need. “You don’t have to fucking ask.”
He lays me across the table, legs spread, back pressed to the cold surface, and I shiver under the full weight of anticipation.
Vince drags his fingers along my hole first, parting me and teasing me open.
Then his tongue flicks over every sensitive ridge, licking and circling my cock with precise, demanding rhythm.
Every slick glide sets my nerves alight, making me tremble.
“Shit,” he mutters, low and rough. “No lube or condom.”
I arch toward him, voice thick and desperate. “I want all of you with nothing between us. Every part.”
His eyes blaze, incredulous and greedy. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I gasp, hips pressing up instinctively. “We’ve talked about it. We’re tested.”
Vince kneels closer, his hands on my hips.
He spreads me impatiently but also gently, pressing my cheeks apart to get a clear view.
He pauses, leaning down to study me, taking in the glistening heat, the way my rim pulses and flexes.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice low and hungry.
“So fucking pink and tight…just for me.”
He leans in, pressing his tongue to the rim, sliding slowly around the edge, circling, flicking, and then dipping deeper.
One finger follows, probing and stretching just enough to tease.
He alternates tongue and fingers with precision, watching my body react and adjusting each movement to what makes me writhe.
Every press of his mouth and every flick of his tongue is calculated.
He hums softly, tasting, exploring, and marking me with his wet, insistent attention.
“You’re mine, all of you,” he rasps, sucking and pressing, alternating in a steady, relentless rhythm that makes my body quake.
Vince continues to move with purpose. I am completely exposed, completely his, consumed by the intensity of his mouth and hands, caught in the art of his rimming.
The tent opens to the water, and I catch glimpses of fireworks reflected in Vince’s dark eyes, but my world is nothing but him.
He shifts me onto my stomach, and I watch the sky explode while he fucks me from behind, each thrust punishing and urgent, matching the rapid-fire bursts of light outside.
Salt, heat, and his breath against my ear blend together, overwhelming and exquisite.
I cry out with abandon, letting him hear everything, letting him take full possession of me in body and voice.
Vince hooks one of my legs with his arm, pulling it up and outward until I am fully exposed, every inch of me laid open.
I feel him sink impossibly deep, each press of his cock against my prostate sparking fire through my body.
Heat floods my veins. My muscles pull tight and tremble as a scream tears from my throat.
He drives into me, relentless and unyielding, testing the limits of my endurance.
“Baby,” he breathes against my ear, every word heavy with devotion. “You’re the only one. This is the only place I’ve ever longed for. You feel beyond everything I imagined.”
His words unsteady me. He drives into me harder, each thrust deep and insistent.
One hand grips my hip, jerking me back, while the other wraps around my cock.
He pumps me in time with his thrusts, hips slamming into me over and over.
The friction stokes heat low in my belly, spreading fast, building with every stroke.
A rush of release and restraint crashes over me in a single, shuddering climax.
“Oh god, Vince…I’m coming!” I declare, my muscles clenching around him, my body trembling.
“Yes, me too,” he growls hoarsely, hips snapping violently. His cum shoots inside me, warm and heavy.
He keeps moving, still thrusting as we ride the last waves together, until he finally pulls out slowly, still pressing his chest against my back, holding me close. I feel the sticky warmth of him sliding down, our bodies still trembling, slick and spent.
The fireworks outside reach their crescendo, the sky a riot of color, but all I can feel, hear, and sense is him. Vince is claiming me, loving me, letting me finally surrender fully after ten years of waiting.
The finale builds to its peak, the entire sky seeming to explode at once in a cascade of gold, silver, and brilliant white. As the last firework fades and the echoes die away over the water, we breathe hard and cling to each other like survivors of some beautiful disaster.
For a long moment, neither of us speaks, the scent of saltwater and celebration mixing with the musk of sex and satisfaction.
“Love you,” I murmur.
Vince’s breath catches, soft and wondering. “Love you most.”
He turns me to face him, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my chest, and I can feel his smile against my shoulder.
“We should probably get back,” I say, though I make no move to disengage from his arms.
“Probably.” He presses a kiss to the spot where my neck meets my shoulder, tongue flicking out to taste the salt on my skin. “But not yet.”
“They’ll notice we’re gone.”
“Good.” The possessive note in his voice makes me shiver. “Let them know exactly what we are up to, who you belong to.”
The simple ownership in his words sends warmth spiraling through my chest.
“Is that what I am?” I ask, tilting my head to look at him. “Yours?”
“If you’ll have me.” The vulnerability that creeps into his voice makes my chest ache. “If you’ll let me prove I’m worth it.”
I study his face in the soft light. He looks younger somehow, the careful mask he’s worn for years finally stripped away to reveal something raw and hopeful underneath.
We clean up and dress slowly, helping each other with buttons and ties, smoothing each other’s hair back into something presentable.
He picks up the boutonnière from the ground, straightens its petals, and pins it to my lapel again.
The gesture feels almost ceremonial, like he’s giving me back to myself, and to him.
“Ready?” he asks, offering me his arm like a proper gentleman.
I take it, and let him escort me back toward the sounds of celebration and the warm glow of the reception tent.
The dangerous pull of believing this could actually work follows me back to the party, settling in my chest like a seed waiting for the right conditions to bloom. The fireworks have ended, but their echo lingers in the way Vince’s hand rests on the small of my back, guiding me through the darkness.