17. Ryan
RYAN
T his needs to be over. All of it. I’m out of control, and I can’t fucking take it.
He’ll hate this. He’ll freak the fuck out, and we can be done.
Or I’ll hate it. I don’t know. I just know I need to do it.
My mind needs it. My body certainly fucking needs it.
And my stupid fucking tormented soul does, too.
I don’t have to love him to fuck him.
I don’t have to love fucking him.
I don’t have to fucking care at all.
Even with a condom on, my hand feels good on my dick as I coat it with lube and stare at his tiny hole, still wet and glistening from what I did to it.
It’s the same exact color of his nipples—or it was before I attacked it with my mouth.
Now it’s even redder and smaller. Scanning up from there, my gaze follows the long line of his spine and the broadening, inverted triangle that forms from his lean torso.
His arms are stretched out, his head turned toward the closet, his chin tilted down so he can see me.
He looks wrecked. Sweaty hair stuck to his forehead, eyes glazed and bright, lips bitten to a garish pink. Fuck. Hot.
He’s never, ever looked better .
I never pictured us like this. Not once. With the way he used to rail away at Kaylin, I always imagined if there ever was a time for us—or when I would happen to dream about it, I was the one bent over, ass up, taking his punishing thrusts.
But I see all that differently now. His naked ankles, his draping legs, his breathless, gasping mouth and the needy whimpering noises he makes between all the swear words.
He’s a slut, and I love a slut. Sluts know how to break through my walls.
They know how to wind me up and get me inside them when I can’t always see my way there.
They make sex fun and uncomplicated.
Nothing about this has to be complicated.
I slide my slick cock up and down his crack, transferring some of the excess lube.
“Fuck yes, please …”
His begging is hot, too.
“Put it in me.”
I almost laugh. “You’re a fucking psycho.”
“Put something in me.”
I probe him with my fingertip, and his hole opens, swallowing it. I groan as I spread the lube over his hot walls, the sinking feeling a preview of what my cock is all too eager to experience.
His hole works me like an expert cunt. Clenching and releasing as I stroke back and forth. “More. Fuck,” he groans. “That feels so good.”
My middle finger joins the first and he gasps. “Yes…” he moans. “Oh fuck… God, fucking help me, I want more. I want you to hurt me.”
“Hurt you?” I repeat quietly.
“Give me what I deserve. Please. Fuck …”
I don’t want to hurt him. I want to get off, yes—and I want to stuff my cock into his pretty hole— this slick needy cunt —but hurt him? For what? For hurting me? Upending my life? For breaking my heart?
Aren’t we supposed to be forgiving each other?
I remember what he said, though, the other night, about wanting to be fucked into a mattress until he was sobbing. Going based off proportions, my cock should accomplish that.
“You sure?” I ask, because I can’t imagine how this wouldn’t hurt.
He groans, fucking back onto my fingers when I’m not moving fast enough. Greedy. Slutty.
I’m keyed up, edged, needing to come. Does wanting to hurt him just a little make me an asshole?
I never said I wasn’t, and I’m looking at the man who turned me into one.
“I’m sure,” he says. “Do it. Fuck me, Ryan.”
A sudden case of nerves along with all the heightened arousal has me shuddering.
I rest the tip of my cock against his hole, apply the slightest bit of pressure, and wait with my hands on his waist. “You want it so bad, come and get it.”
“You know I fucking I want it,” he says. Moving his hands to the headboard, he presses back. It’s like meeting a wall. He takes a deep breath, blows it out and tries again.
“ Ungh … fuck …” he groans as my crown pops through a tight band.
He’s determined—I’ll give him that. I guess it’s flattering?
His body trembles, and he breathes heavily while we both adjust. The sight of my cock penetrating his ass is jarring and filthy.
The way he feels? So. Fucking. Tight. Like he could snap my dick off if he moved a certain way.
But I need him to move, too. This is excruciating. Nearly . There’s an anticipation building inside me that’s actually very, very good. Another deep breath, another stretch of his arms, and another inch of me disappears inside him, compressed in the tightest space my cock has ever squeezed through.
In a low, low voice that sounds nothing like him, he says, “I need you to move, Ryan.”
“No,” I grit out, stubbornly suffering because I guess that’s what I’m used to.
“Move,” he breathes harshly. “ Goddamnit ,” and that’s a sob.
For a faltering moment, I don’t know what to do. I’m tempted to pull out, call it a nice try and then… Then what ? What if I never wind up here again? Do I really want to let this moment pass?
My decision made, I get a grip on his waist, and I pull him onto me—compromise, right? The feel of my cock sheathed fully inside him makes me cry out in shock and mind-blowing pleasure.
It’s a little like falling. All that resistance—the compression—gives way as I sink inside him, and my balls slap his. That— that is a crazy good feeling, and one I wasn’t anticipating. He makes a noise like I’m ripping off his arm and goes limp on the pillows.
My cock twitches inside him as the rest of me freezes solid. God, I need to fucking come.
“ Move goddamnit ,” he shouts, and I can tell he’s crying or very close to it.
The words are thick and wet. I can’t help but move.
Not like the way he used to fuck Kaylin, all power thrusts and speed.
No. I fuck him the way I like to fuck. Slow and deliberate so I can feel every inch of his insides dragging against my cock.
After a few strokes, he’s panting, and I’ve never been this deep.
I get used to the tight squeeze—the sinking feeling—and close my eyes.
I find my rhythm and the smoothest glide of my life.
I run my hands up his back and it changes the angle, pulling my dick down, and he jolts, gasping again and again as I move my entire length from the shallow end to the deep end.
Pressure builds in my balls as they tap his.
One of his hands leaves the headboard and disappears beneath his body.
I can only assume he’s touching himself.
I don’t object. Whatever he needs to get through it.
I’m almost there. So fucking close because goddamn it just keeps getting better.
Hotter. And then I realize that’s because he’s not being still.
He’s fucking me the same way he took my fingers.
He’s clenching his ass and tightening his hole.
He’s rocking in opposition with me, and that’s why our balls are now slapping .
“ God …” he groans, the word guttural. “Jesus fucking God. Oh… God .”
“That’s it, Mal,” I say, encouraging this. I wrap my hands over his shoulders, managing to bend down and lick the back of his neck. He lifts his head, arching for me, and I get a better hold on his nape, sucking the skin between my teeth and latching hard enough to leave a mark.
“I’m gonna come,” he gasps. “I’m gonna fucking come again.”
I usually last a lot longer during sex, but this is different in every single way than anything I’ve ever experienced.
His words shove me past the breaking point.
My balls pulse in rapid blasts, and my cock throbs hard.
Cum fills the condom in burst after burst, and he chokes out a gasping sob, once again going limp beneath me.
All but the breathing. His back expands and contracts, and he pulls his hand slowly out from under him, his fist clenched.
Did he…?
The primitive part of me rears its twisted head again. I pull my dick from his hole and grab for his wrist.
“Ryan—I?—”
Moving quickly, I drop onto the bed next to him, bringing his hand to my mouth and prying his fingers open. When the first taste of his collected cum hits my tongue, I start licking, finishing this thing we just did in the most depraved way I never could have thought up in my sickest dreams of us.
After that it’s kind of a hazy mess for a few seconds while my humanity tries to seep back into my bones.
There’s blood on us both. Not a lot, but enough that I feel compelled to get a cold, wet towel and press it to his ripped hole.
Not gonna lie—blood during sex isn’t new for me.
This wasn’t my first inexperienced hole.
“Am I okay?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say. I checked before I put the towel on him. It’s not bleeding anymore. A small anal tear. He’ll be fine in a day or two. “It already stopped.”
“Bleeding?” he asks.
“Yeah, Mal. Bleeding.”
“Oh. Good. That was crazy.”
I guess he’s fine, then. He’s had his eyes closed this whole time, but he opens them now while I’m staring at him.
“Your dick,” he says.
“Yeah?”
“It’s big.”
“You knew that. You had it in your throat last night.”
“Yeah. I did. Now it’s been everywhere.”
“Not your hand.”
“No?” he asks. He sounds drunk.
I shake my head.
“I just used my mouth?”
“Yep.”
“Wow.”
I smile because I can’t seem to help it. “You’re wrecked.”
“Did you like it? It was your first time in a guy’s ass, right?” he asks.
“First ass, period.”
“So?” he presses .
“Of course I liked it. Big dick, tight hole.”
He laughs softly. “Fuck you.”
“Still wanna spend the night?” I ask.
“ Yes . Jesus. Why do you keep acting like I’m gonna change my mind?”
I lift my eyebrows.