19. Henry #2
Anders might consider himself a dominant, but to me, he just feels like a protector.
When the food is ready, he gets up and makes me a plate.
When we’re talking to his friends, he holds my hand or curls his arm over my shoulder or around my waist, keeping me close to him.
Then when the music starts, he pulls me onto the dance floor and proudly sways us from side to side, kissing me until I forget that we’re not the only people in the room.
It’s late by the time the bride and groom leave, and the rest of the guests start to slowly disperse.
“Should we offer to help clean up?” I ask.
“I can’t wait any longer. If we have to stay here another minute, I’m going to yank down those pants and fuck you raw.
If you’re happy to shuffle around the room picking up trash with my dick in your ass, then by all means, go offer to help,” Anders snarls, all signs of restraint gone from his expression as he reveals just how close to fully losing control he really is.
Eyes wide, I let him haul me out of the tent, practically dragging me down the hill that leads toward his house. The moment we’re through the front door, he pins me to the wall and takes my lips with his, wrapping his fingers tightly around my throat, the way he knows I like.
“Naked, now,” he demands.
“Should we go upstairs?” I pant.
“Are you testing me, Boy?” he growls, taking a step away from me, his feral gaze running from my head to my feet, then back up again.
I shake my head.
“Apparently, you’re not ready to be my good boy just yet.”
I shake my head again. “I’m ready,” I gasp.
Flattening his lips into a hard line, he exhales and shakes his head. “Who’s in control?” he asks. Only his words aren’t demanding, they’re soft, asking if I’m willing to let him take over the way he’s threatened me he wants to.
Despite the animalistic look in his eyes and the fear in his expression, I’m not scared of him. “You’re in control,” I confess, more than willing to give myself over to him and let him take care of me.
“I want to feel your mouth around my hard cock, Boy.”
Smiling, I nod. I’ve only sucked on him once before, and I loved it. I’m more than happy to do it again.
“Stop. Let me undress you,” he rasps, prolonging the anticipation as he carefully removes my button-down, pants, socks, then finally the briefs he told me to wear.
“Perfect,” he praises right before his expression hardens and he points to the floor at his feet.
I don’t have any experience with sex clubs or scenes, but even now when he’s at his most unhinged, he’s still my Anders. He’s dominant, but he’s both stern and soft. Demanding and praising.
Once I’m on my knees, he unzips his pants and pulls out his cock. Squeezing my cheeks, he forces my lips to part, then roughly pushes his dick into my mouth. He’s not gentle as he guides my head on and off his length, but the whole time he uses me, he whispers words of encouragement and praise.
“Your mouth is perfect, Kitten. You’re doing so well. Take me deeper. Good boy, I’m so proud of you.”
Gripping my hair, he pulls himself out of my mouth, and I pout, wanting more, to suck him for longer.
Curling his knuckle beneath my chin, he looks down into my eyes and smiles. “Look at you, Kitten. You love sucking my cock, don’t you?”
My mind and body feel strangely light, but I nod, smiling back up at him.
“You look high as a kite.” He chuckles.
“I feel it. Can I do that again?”
“Later,” he promises. “Do you need to be fucked?”
I nod, long, slow movements that feel strange, like my head isn’t quite attached to my body.
“Ask me,” he orders.
“Will you fuck me? Please.”
Blinking, he grabs my hand and hauls me up the stairs to his bedroom.
“I thought you wanted to bend me over the dining table?” I ask, breathless and excited.
“Another time. I can’t fuck you the way you need to be fucked downstairs.”
I’m naked, my stomach already sticky with precum, but he doesn’t seem to care as he pushes me down onto the bed, keeping his hand on my chest to hold me in place.
Leaning over me, he licks a path down my stomach, then parts his lips and takes my dick all the way to the back of his throat, then swallows.
I come. It happens so fast I don’t even have a chance to try to stop it, but Anders doesn’t seem to care, eagerly sucking down every drop as he works his fingers along my crease until he finds my hole.
This will only be the third time we’ve had sex, but already the fearful and unknown caution has faded to excited anticipation.
I want this. I want the sensation of being full of him.
I want to feel his huge body crowding over me.
I want his lips on mine. I want his cock inside of me. I want to be owned.
Feeling like property shouldn’t be appealing to me. My entire childhood I always felt like a thing rather than a person. I was a belonging to be moved from place to place when I became inconvenient or obsolete.
When I aged out, I was excited to be free, to make my own choices and direct my own life. Yet here I am, willing…no, eager to hand over control to another. To let him set the course while I’m simply a willing passenger.
Truthfully, I don’t really know why his control is so appealing to me, but it is. He cares for me. He wants me. He needs me; probably more than I need him and that’s intoxicating. Because I don’t think I’ve ever been needed before.
My many foster families needed the money that came with providing me with the basics and a home in the very loosest sense. But they didn’t need me—Henry Clayden.
But Anders does.
This big, strong, dominant man needs me. He needs me to allow him to exert control over me. He needs me to allow him to use my body. He needs me to gift myself to him. And although I’m confident he could fulfill his needs with someone else, he doesn’t want them. He wants me. He needs me.
Slippery fingers push inside me, and my vision blurs as pleasure, hot and intense starts to buzz through my veins like it’s been injected straight into my blood.
His touch is never gentle, but it’s tempered, careful, like taking care of me and making sure I’m okay is more important than our raging need.
Every quiet, sweet, faceless fantasy I envisioned before Anders barged his way into my life feels like a silent black-and-white movie in comparison with Anders’s high-definition multicolored fantasia.
I feel my body start to open beneath his ministrations, his fingers grazing my prostate as he toys with my ass, stretching me and preparing me for his dick.
Shards of ecstasy start to build, drawn to each other until a need to come starts to pulse low in my stomach, threatening to make me explode again, before Anders is even inside of me.
Despite his rule that I ask his permission to orgasm, he doesn’t seem to care how little control I have or how often I end up coating us both in my cum when we’re together like this. Truthfully, I think he likes that he gets me so excited he barely has to touch me to make me explode.
I could tell him a thousand times that I don’t want him, but my body is incapable of deceit, and my hair trigger would prove me a liar every single time.
“I’m going to come,” I groan, lifting my butt off the bed. Pushing his fingers deeper into me, I writhe against the sheet, searching for the position that’ll make him massage my prostate and make me lose my mind.
“No, you’re not,” he snarls, slipping his fingers from inside of me and wrapping them tightly around the base of my dick, immediately stifling my urgent need to come.
“No,” I whine.
“Jesus, Kitten. Look at you, a sticky, needy mess.”
“Fuck me. God, Anders, I need you.”
I know I’ve said exactly the right thing when he rips his clothes off, throwing them to the floor, then flips our position until he’s lying on his back with his fist wrapped tightly around his hard cock. “Climb on. I want to watch you ride my dick.”
Freezing, I lift my gaze from his dick to his face, pulling my lower lip into my mouth with my teeth. “I…” My voice dissolves to silence as I struggle to admit what he already knows. That I’ve never done this before.
“Henry,” he says, demanding my full attention. “Come here.”
The insistence in his tone settles me, and I crawl up the bed until I’m hovering over him, the way he’s done to me before.
“Keep coming,” he growls, grabbing my hips and dragging me up his chest.
“Straddle me. Put your knees on either side of my hips.”
I follow his instructions, feeling awkward until I feel him guide the head of his dick to my hole.
“Good boy, now slowly sit down. I want to feel your ass open up while I fill you with my dick.”
Doing as he says, I carefully back down onto him, swallowing thickly as his cock breaches my hole. Not allowing me to stop, he carefully urges me down, pushing into my body, until my ass is in his lap and I feel like his cock is in my stomach.
Running my fingers over my belly, I push against the skin, wondering if I press hard enough if I’ll be able to feel him inside of me.
“Jesus, you’re even tighter like this,” Anders rasps, holding my hips, his grip tight enough to bruise.
“I…I…” I try to articulate what I need, but my fuzzy brain can’t find the words. Anders must understand what I can’t tell him, because he guides me to lift up, then slowly lower my ass back down again.
Up and down, he controls the tempo, squeezing my hips when I try to move quicker. I’m still hard, my dick weeping precum, fresh drops pushing from the head every time his dick hits my prostate.
“Please,” I beg, unsure what I’m asking for, but confident that he’ll know and give me what I need.
“Not yet, Kitten,” he says, his voice a guttural snarl, like he’s gritting his teeth to prolong his own release.
“Please,” I beg again, pushing down a little harder and exhaling a low whine as a surge of bliss follows my ass landing firmly in his lap.
“Not. Yet,” he growls.
“Please, please, please, please,” I chant, sliding up and down his dick, each thrust pushing me closer and closer.
“Not until I tell you,” Anders orders, fisting my dick and jerking me in rough strokes in rhythm with my ass bouncing up and down on his cock.
An animalistic whine starts in the back of my throat, pouring from my lips as I close my eyes and give myself over to the sensation of his dick pounding my ass.
With one hand squeezing my hip tightly and the other working my dick in fast jerks, Anders snarls. “Come for me, Henry. Come all over me while I fuck my cum into your ass.”
My body processes his permission before my brain can. Heat shoots from my balls, up and out of my dick as my whine turns to a squealing groan of pleasure.
Fucking me in hard, fast thrusts, I feel each spurt of cum as his dick swells, then explodes in my ass.
Fucking me through his orgasm, his fist keeps working my cock, and I come, then come again, my own heartbeat thrumming in my ears as the crescendo of pleasure rising through me almost feels too much.
Just when I’m not sure I can take anymore, the wave starts to recede and my muscles give way.