Chapter 14 #2
Christian’s head presses back into the cushions, eyes rolling behind fluttering lids.
I ravage him with my mouth, alternating between thrusting my tongue inside that tight heat and circling the rim, loosening him with wet attention.
Each form I prod a little deeper; his body tenses then melts, gradually yielding to the slick invasion.
Between my lips and the iron grip I maintain on his thigh, he isn’t going anywhere.
All he can do is take it. And judging by the increasingly wanton sounds spilling from him, he’s doing just that.
The air is thick with the scent of sex, and I can feel him dripping onto his own belly, smearing precum across his skin with each subtle shift of his hips.
I growl in approval, pulling back just enough to speak.
“You taste even better than I remember,” I murmur against him, my breath scorching on his sensitive flesh.
Christian answers with a broken moan, his hips thrusting up, trying to follow my mouth.
The unconscious desperation in the gesture sends a thrill through me.
“That’s it. Didn’t I tell you? You always call me back.
This”—I drag my tongue lazily around his opening—"is why.”
His body knows its truth even if his mind refuses to accept it.
I decide he’s wet and relaxed enough for the next step. My jaw aches pleasantly from the effort of devouring him, and I withdraw my tongue with one last parting lick. Christian whimpers at the loss, the sweet sound shooting straight to my cock.
“Shh,” I soothe, though a smug smile curls my lips.
“I know, baby, I know. You want more.” I run a hand soothingly along his inner thigh, which quivers under my palm.
“I promised to fuck you, and I will. But you need to be ready for me.” I raise the hand that isn’t holding him and curl my fingers, letting my sharpened nails vanish away—gone for now, replaced by smooth flesh.
Wouldn’t want to accidentally cut him up inside; he’s far too fragile for that.
Christian’s head lifts weakly, and he looks down his body, trying to see what I’m doing. I catch his gaze flick to my face, then to my hand as I press a single finger against his spit-slicked entrance. His lips part in a silent gasp as I slowly push into the first knuckle.
“Relax,” I repeat. “You can take it.” My finger sinks deeper, the tight heat of him clenching instinctively. His body resists for a heartbeat, then yields, the first ring of muscle giving way to allow me inside.
I curl my finger inside him, stroking along his inner walls until I find the spot that makes him see stars.
I know I’ve hit it when he cries out, his entire body jolting.
“Oh—!” His exclamation cuts off, replaced by a shuddering moan as I rub that spot mercilessly.
His cock twitches against his belly, an eager spurt of precum leaking out in response.
I chuckle. “Good boy. Does that feel good?”
He nods frantically as a tear finally spills loose and trails down his temple at the overwhelming sensation.
I lean over and lick the tear away, tasting his salt and despair and bliss all at once. His cheek is burning hot against my tongue.
“It feels so good, doesn’t it?” I coo, gently pumping my finger in and out, working him open.
“You’re being so good for me, Christian.
Taking what I give you.” He lets out a garbled sob of pleasure, hips rocking unconsciously now, trying to get that finger even deeper.
The raw need in his movements makes my own cock throb impatiently, but I ignore my own urges a little longer.
I want him beyond just pliant … I want him wrecked and pliant.
“More...” The word slips from his lips.
“More?” I echo. “Such a greedy little thing.” Still, I oblige.
A second finger joins the first, pushing past the tight ring with only a slight resistance.
This time, Christian does wince. His breath sucks in sharply between his teeth.
I pause, buried two fingers deep, feeling him flutter and tense around me.
“Easy ... that’s it,” I murmur, circling my thumb soothingly on the inside of his thigh.
“You can take it. You were made to take this.”
He exhales shakily and I feel the clench of his body loosen by degrees.
Inch by inch, I begin to scissor my fingers inside him, stretching, preparing.
His face is turned to the side, eyes squeezed shut again as he concentrates on accommodating the burn.
I can see his pulse thrumming wildly at his throat.
To reward his effort, I angle my hand and crook my fingers forward, pressing against his prostate once more.
His eyes fly open, a shocked cry spilling forth as pleasure overwhelms the discomfort.
His hips jerk, impaling himself further on my hand without meaning to.
I growl in approval, holding his legs wider as I start to thrust my fingers in a steady rhythm.
In and out. Stretching him open. The wet sounds of my fingers working his tight heat echo filthily in the still air.
Christian is practically delirious now. I drink in every whimper and gasp that falls from his lips. So beautiful. So completely at my mercy.
It’s not enough. I want him completely ready for me.
Withdrawing my fingers nearly all the way, I spit directly onto his exposed hole, adding to the slickness. Christian sobs at the sensation, the hot dribble of saliva making him twitch. I push my two fingers back in easily now, the glide smoother. Then I add a third.
He tenses up like a bowstring and a pleading cry rips from him. His hands fly down instinctively, one grasping at my wrist as if to halt the intrusion. I catch his panicked gaze and pin him with a stern look. “Shh, you can handle it,” I assure, though my tone brooks no argument. “Be good for me.”
His fingers tremble against my forearm. For a moment, I wonder if he might protest, but then I feel him force himself to relax, accepting the stretch. The trust inherent in that surrender sends a surge of possessive hunger through me. He’s giving himself over, completely.
“There you go,” I murmur, easing my third finger in until it joins the others fully. He’s so impossibly tight around me, stretched near his limit. I can feel him quivering as his body strains to accommodate the sensation. “Such a good human for me.”
I reward him with another press to his sweet spot, and his resistance melts into need once more. Soon, he’s rocking against my hand, fucking himself on my three fingers as best he can while I hold him open.
“Look at you, making a mess on my hand and the couch. So eager to be filled, aren’t you?” Christian whimpers in response; his cheeks burning. I know if he could form words, he’d be begging outright now.
I can’t wait any longer. My own cock throbs painfully, demanding its due.
The head flares almost angrily as a bead of molten precum dribbles down.
I catch Christian’s gaze flick downward once more to where my shaft lies heavy against my abdomen, and his breath stutters.
From his angle, he can likely see it clearly now—see what all this preparation has been building to.
His eyes widen a fraction and he looks back up at me, flushed lips parted. There’s fear there, yes, but also longing. Acceptance.