Chapter 10
KAIRO
I’m not sure I’ve ever truly asked for something like this in my fucking life. The world imagines everything comes easy for every Van Doren, simply because our last name is synonymous with wealth, power, and luxury. Nothing has ever felt easy for me.
I’m not the playboy asshole that we’re all viewed as.
Yes, we’re all labeled as a playboy in some way or another.
I don’t miss those headlines. I’m the playboy asshole.
Jalon is the playboy silver fox, which I find hilarious because my brother has never slutted around.
Ever. Oxley, the quirky playboy genius… maybe he has a secret life, but he’s also not the kind of guy that fucks around much.
Then there’s Noaz, who, interestingly enough, is labeled the playboy beauty. Then there’s Arath, who’s the playboy mafia boss. And me, the playboy asshole.
Yes, Noaz is beautiful, but not a playboy.
Arath isn’t even a mafia boss. Bottom line, though, none of us are hoeing it up.
There are apps and anonymous hookup shit, but that’s a lot of effort to lower at least some of my very loud barriers to keep people out that I rarely find the desire to drop just for an orgasm.
When I really want something, I call for an escort.
Yes, I’m that pathetic. I would rather pay for sex than put effort in otherwise.
It’s never with a guy. Never. Besides the one failed encounter in high school, I determined I was more suitable for women.
I’m not sure it’s preference so much as instinct for me.
I don’t have to put so much thought or effort into women.
The reality is, I’m probably a very selfish lover because I truly don’t give a fuck.
I don’t pay for their orgasms; I pay for mine.
As Malcolm literally scoops me up from the fucking tub, dripping wet but like I weigh nothing at all, I can’t catch my breath.
It becomes so alarming that I press my face into his shoulder to block out what’s going on around me.
I’m terrified, but maybe not for the act of sex itself.
Malcolm has already proven to me that I do, in fact, like butt stuff.
Lack of experience on my partner’s and my part in high school was why I didn’t enjoy it then.
I know he’ll make it good for me. Which is far more terrifying than literally any other part of this.
I’m not afraid of the ensuing pain. I’m afraid of the way he’s going to tear me open figuratively.
My barricades to keep him out slip every time we’re together.
Every word out of his mouth tears down my defenses and dismantles my walls.
I’m so desperate for him to fuck me that my brain is glitching and demanding I want the orgasm I know he’s going to give me. Epic. Legendary. Nothing will ever measure up.
Hopefully, he fails to live up to the picture in my head. If he doesn’t deliver, it’ll shatter the illusion he’s built up around me.
Still dripping wet, Malcolm sets me on the bed.
I hear him shuffle around my room, likely looking for the supplies stashed away in drawers out of sight.
Keeping my eyes closed, I track his movements by the sounds he makes.
The zipper of his pants. The rustle of his clothing.
The dip of the bed has me catching my breath again.
He urges me onto my side and grips my upper leg higher, exposing my ass to him as he lies behind me.
His mouth presses softly to my bare shoulder over and over as he eases his four fucking fingers into my ass once more, but this time with lube.
I try not to moan. Try to keep the pleasure contained as it burns through me.
Try to remain still and let him do whatever he does, so I don’t let on how much I like it.
That doesn’t last long before my hips jerk backward on his fingers, riding them as best I can from this angle.
The whimper that leaves my mouth when he pulls his fingers from me is horrifying. I press my face into my pillow. How gross. Where the fuck is my control?
The sound of the condom wrapper behind me is loud. Almost echoing in my head. The roll of the rubber down his dick is equally loud. The slick of lube gives me chills.
Malcolm’s big hand on my hip makes me roll onto my back. Great. Now I’m going to be forced to look at him.
This is the first time I’ve seen him naked. My eyes trail down his body, and Jesus fuck, this man can crack me in half. He’s easily twice my size. Everywhere. My eyes widen a little, nostrils flaring when I look at his cock. Holy fuck.
Swallowing, I meet his eyes again, and my breath is punched from my lungs when the tip of his dick presses against my hole. Oh god. A rush of desire floods me, even as my hands grip his forearms.
Malcolm urges my legs up, gripping them under my knees and practically folding me in half.
It’s a struggle to breathe like this, which means, as he pushes his big dick inside me, I become lightheaded.
I think, with every inch of his cock making its way into my body, that much room is stolen from my lungs.
My body tries to respond. Tries to close around him, to prevent him from getting deeper.
In the position he has me folded in, my muscles can’t do what they want.
The burn is intense, and I wince. The sounds coming from me are relentless and pathetic.
It hurts, but fuck, the pleasure that rushes along with it is far more intense.
“That’s it, baby,” Malcolm purrs. “Look at you around my cock. You like that? Jesus, listen to you.”
He’s suddenly fully inside me, and I literally can’t take a breath. I struggle, but it’s like my body forgot how to breathe. I stare at him, desperately trying to inhale. Malcolm’s pupils are wide as he stares at me, his body weight keeping me bent in half with my knees against my shoulders.
“Perfect,” he murmurs. “You’re so fucking perfect, Kairo.”
His words bring unexpected tears to my eyes, and I turn away so he can’t see them. The surge of emotion does the trick to force my brain to remember how to breathe.
“Please,” I whisper, though I’m not entirely sure what I’m asking.
Malcolm pulls his dick back, and I dig my fingers into him. I don’t want him to leave my body! With his slow plunge back inside, my whole body reacts. My spine tries to arch as a hot rush of pleasure burns its way throughout my entire body.
“Fuck,” I gasp, hips trying to buck against him when he does it a third time.
He chuckles. “You like that.”
I nod. Wildly. Unhinged. Completely out of my mind. “Fuck me,” I beg. “Please. Please.”
Malcolm takes my hands and places them where his were, a clear instruction to keep my position. He shifts his weight to come down to his hands on either side of my head, heavy on the bed. Bringing his face directly over mine.
The first sharp snap of his hips inside me has my shoulders slamming into his wrists. I gasp loudly, the grip on my legs nearly slipping away as everything in me jerks. Too good. Too hard. I need more.
He doesn’t fuck me with a rhythm for several minutes. Instead, he experiments with different thrusts. Maybe reading what I like. Testing my limits.
Then his body comes down on mine, and I lose my legs. He swallows my panting, grips the back of my neck, and finally begins fucking me in earnest.
It’s harsh, deep, a rough cadence that isn’t conducive to kissing because it rips the loudest, most deranged sounds from my throat as the pleasure swallows me whole.
I’m slipping. My control slides away with every rough intrusion.
Somewhere in my mind, a panicky hold is maniacally trying to grasp all the pieces I don’t want Malcolm to see.
They’re covered in lube, though, because not even the vicious claws manage to hold them close. Thankfully, I’m too overwhelmed by the ever-growing pleasure spiking through me with every rapid thrust of Malcolm’s big dick.
I find I’m begging. Begging for an orgasm. Begging for his approval. Begging him to hold me. All of which he delivers. There’s a chance I asked for at least one of those things out loud because he’s growling and grunting into my ear with the sexiest husky voice about how good I am.
“What a good boy,” he croons. “Every time you tell me what you want, you earn whatever reward you want, baby girl. That’s it. Let me please you. Let me feed your body pleasure like you’ve never had.”
He already is. I don’t have the breath to tell him so, which later I’ll be thankful for.
I ache, but I’m not sure if it’s from the punishing thrusts or the size of his cock in my practically virginal hole or from the tight grip he holds me in or the swelling orgasm that’s trying to suffocate me.
Or. Or. Or. There are a hundred thousand emotions swelling inside me, threatening to undo me.
All Malcolm is doing is fucking me, and yet, he’s skinning me alive. I hang onto him with shaking muscles, begging him for everything. I can’t stop the words from escaping my mouth. He listens. I know he listens. Even as he continues to fuck me like an animal and murmur affirmations in my ear.
My orgasm is consuming. I think I scream.
I think I pass out. I think the apartment shatters around me.
He’s fucking magic. Everything about him is magic.
The way he plays me like an instrument he’s mastered, something he’s studied his entire life.
The way he holds me after, as I come down from my orgasmic high, crashing into a weird meltdown that I can’t even begin to understand.
All the while, he tells me how good I am. Such a good boy. His good boy. He’s so proud of me for telling him what I need. What I want. He enjoys giving me everything I want.
The panic in my head is loud. I need to get away from him. The thought never leaves, even as I press further into his big chest, trying to burrow inside his body.
“It’s okay, Kairo,” he murmurs. “I got you. I’m right here. I’m not going to let you go.”
I hear the crack in my chest like the world is ripping in two. A sob rips from me, and I’m horrified. Scared. I need… I need him to leave, but also never leave. I need him to forget this, but always, always remember it. Fuck. I don’t know what I need at all.
Malcolm doesn’t tell me to shush. He doesn’t tell me it’s okay or that it’s going to be fine. Instead, he continues to tell me how much of a good boy I am. Different words that all equate to the same thing.
Eventually, I convince my terrified brain to listen to his words.
We don’t have to believe him, but his tone is soothing.
His arms around me are comforting. His hold is strong.
Firm. He’s patient. There’s never any indication that he’s frustrated with me.
Or annoyed. There’s no suggestion that he wants to get out of here.
It’s a long time before I think I have it all together again. Except, now I’m dreading pulling away from him for entirely different reasons. My god, he just witnessed me break down! This virtual stranger. My brother’s crony.
“Don’t do that,” Malcolm whispers. “There’s no need to rebuild your walls, Kairo. This is between you and me. It stays right here in this room. We’ll never speak of it if you choose not to. But don’t bury yourself behind anger.”
I take a deep breath and hold it. His fingers move gently through my hair. “I have to get up,” I murmur.
“Oh, yeah?”
Nodding, I add, “Lucy and Maria will be here for cake at some point. Maria will be bringing brigadeiros.”
“Okay,” he answers just as quietly.
“You can stay. If you want,” I say carefully.
“I’d like that.”
“When they’re gone, you can fuck me again.” My cheeks burn, and I feel like I’m going to vomit as I pull back to look him in his dark eyes. “If you want to.”
His answering smile makes my stomach flip. “Baby girl, there’s nothing I want more than to give you orgasms and hold you in my arms. Yes. Sounds like a wonderful evening.”