20. Charlie #2
“You’re so bloody gorgeous, Charlie.” Bat’s voice dropped low. Reverent. “Wanted to fuck you since the moment you set foot in this manor. And that was before I heard you play guitar.”
My hole tightened around him involuntarily, drawing a hiss from his lips. I was so close already, balls drawn tight. It had been too long since I’d been properly fucked, and Bat filled me so exquisitely I thought I might come before he even started moving.
“You’re doing so amazing. Just as good as I knew you would be.”
The bedframe creaked ominously as he shifted his weight, testing the angle. One of the springs beneath us gave an alarming twang, a single discordant note.
“This bed’s going to break,” I managed between ragged breaths.
“Oh, I bloody hope so,” he growled.
Bat held himself deep, buried to the hilt whilst I quivered.
The stretch burned perfectly, like he’d been made to fit inside me.
Then his mouth found my left shoulder blade—soft kisses that made me arch into the mattress.
He moved to the right, same gentle attention, before dragging his tongue up my spine between them.
A slow, deliberate stripe right to my nape.
“I can’t taste you,” he murmured against my neck. “But holy shit, your smell. I want to drown in it.”
His breath ghosted cool across my heated skin, raising goosebumps down my arms. No warmth from him at all—just that impossible chill that somehow made everything more intense.
Then his fingers tangled in my hair.
“Can I—” He tugged gently, testing. “Like this?”
The pull sent electricity straight to my cock. I leaked onto the duvet, adding to the growing wet spot beneath me. “Yes.” The word came out strangled. “You can do whatever you want to me.”
He wound my hair around his fist—once, twice—until I felt that wonderful burn across my scalp. Then he yanked hard enough to lift my head from the mattress, forcing my neck back. The angle made his cock shift inside me, pressing against something that drilled stars behind my eyelids.
“Fuck!” I clawed at the sheets, white-knuckled.
Pinned on both ends now—stuffed full of Bat’s cock, held fast by his grip in my hair. Entirely at his mercy.
“Please.” My voice came out wrecked already. “Please, Bat. Fuck me properly.”
He released my hair long enough to brace his hands on either side of my shoulders. Leaned down to snarl against my ear. “Grab the headboard.”
The command shot through me like a power chord cranked to eleven. I scrambled forward on my elbows, reaching for the wooden frame. My fingers closed around it just as Bat’s hands clamped around my hips again.
“Hold on tight, gorgeous. You’re going to need it.”
The warning barely registered before he slammed into me.
Hard. Brutal. Perfect.
My cry tore through the small room, raw and animalistic. He pulled almost all the way out—that agonising drag against my rim—before driving back in, hitting that spot that made my vision white out.
“Bat!” I gripped the headboard like my life depended on it, splintering wood biting into my palms.
He set a punishing rhythm. No mercy, no gentle build-up. Just relentless, powerful thrusts that had the bed frame groaning beneath us, creaks and twangs punctuating each brutal snap of his hips.
I’d expected to enjoy myself. But I didn’t expect Bat to be a fucking sex god.
Had I gone so long without sex I’d forgotten how great it was? Or was my sad boy emo ghost just that good?
The slide out was smooth, making me twist as pleasure lit me up from the inside. But the drive back in was merciless, forcing grunts and whimpers from my throat that I couldn’t control.
“That’s it,” Bat panted behind me. “Take it for me.”
His hand found my hair again, fisting it tight as he rode me with savage intensity. Face down, ass up, completely owned, every inch of me alight with pleasure as Bat railed into me with inhuman strength.
“Bat!” His name came out strangled as he nailed my prostate. My thighs shook, my cock throbbed, demanding his attention, his callused hands around it. “That’s… that’s…”
Words failed. I’d never been fucked like this—never felt this kind of raw power. Like he could break me in half without even trying.
He seemed to mistake my wordless gasps for distress because he slowed. “Charlie?”
“Fuck no!” I reached back blindly, slapping whatever part of him I could reach. “More. Harder.”
“Harder?” Scepticism coloured his tone.
“Harder,” I demanded.
I was almost sorry I asked for it.
Bat’s response was immediate and merciless. He yanked my hips higher, changing the angle until I saw stars with every thrust. The bed slammed against the wall—a steady percussion that would probably wake the dead.
A faraway part of me knew I should be worried, but it was hard to think about anything except the unforgiving slide of Bat’s cock, the burn of the stretch, the way he filled me so thoroughly I forgot where I ended and he began.
I held the headboard like an anchor as Bat fucked me into another dimension entirely, his strong grip keeping me exactly where he wanted me.
“Look at you, baby.” His rhythm never faltered. “Knew you’d look even more gorgeous like this.”
The praise hit me harder than his thrusts. I squeezed around his dick as tightly as I could, drawing a curse from his lips as he drove deeper, harder, chasing something that felt bigger than both of us.
Something shifted. Sensations started to blur at the edges, my mind floating somewhere above my body as Bat continued his ferocious assault. The world narrowed to the slide of skin on skin, the obscene wet sounds, the creak of tortured bedsprings.
I was dimly aware of my own voice—broken pleas and curses—but they seemed to come from somewhere far away. Like I was watching this happen to someone else whilst I drifted, untethered.
“Fuck, you’re so noisy.” A low groan threaded through his words. “I love it.”
A distant creak echoed down the corridor—footsteps on ancient floorboards.
“Fuck! Did you hear that?” I forced myself to form words through the haze of pleasure. “Is that Brad?”
Bat’s rhythm never faltered. If anything, he drove in harder, deeper. “Let him hear how good I’m making you feel,” he murmured against my shoulder, voice thick with pleasure. “Every little sound you’re giving me.”
The thought should’ve horrified me. Instead, it did the opposite. Who cared when Bat’s cock was dragging against me so perfectly? Let Brad stand outside that door and listen to me getting fucked senseless by a ghost.
“You feel so fucking good, Charlie,” Bat panted. “I won’t last much longer.”
I was also close, balanced on that knife’s edge where pleasure became too much and not nearly enough all at once. “Urgh, no, not yet.” I said between gasps. “Please don’t stop. I need more. So much more. Touch my dick, please.”
“Not yet,” Bat snarled, fingers digging into my hips hard enough to bruise. “You’re going to come with me, when I say so.”
The threat made my dick jerk between my legs, leaking steadily onto the sheets beneath me.
A moan ripped from my throat—too loud, too desperate.
Bat’s palm clamped over my mouth instantly, pressing hard enough that I couldn’t breathe.
The lack of oxygen made everything sharper, like the treble turned up until it distorted.
I didn’t care. Couldn’t care about anything except the total surrender of being absolutely owned.
Finally—finally—Bat’s hand snaked around my hip, fingers wrapping around my aching cock.
The touch was electric. Instantaneous.
I exploded.
My orgasm ripped through me like a shockwave, every muscle in my body seizing as I came harder than I ever had in my life. I lost my grip on the headboard, collapsing face first into a pillow as Bat pushed my head down into it, muffling my screams.
The world went white. Then black. Then white again.
I hadn’t breathed in what felt like minutes, dizzied, consciousness floating somewhere above my wrecked body. Distantly, I felt Bat’s cool cum filling me up, the excess dribbling out around his cock and down my thighs.
Then his mouth—everywhere. Kissing every inch of my back, soft little touches that made me shiver as aftershocks still coursed through me.
I lay there in a soaked puddle of my own making, completely boneless.
Bat twisted me gently, kicking the duvet to the floor before settling between my legs. His tongue lapped at the mess we’d made, whilst I lay there wholly spent, dazed, thoroughly fucked beyond all recognition.
“Are you usually that loud?” Amusement coloured his voice. “Or were you determined for every spirit who lives here to learn I’m fucking the ghost hunter?”
I groaned. “Shit. I’m sorry. I’m never that loud. But that was fucking in-cred-ible.”
“Really?” Bat beamed up at me, looking absurdly pleased with himself.
“Really. Ghost dick gets a ten out of ten rating.”
He laughed—oh so bright and genuine—before crawling up to kiss my forehead in an oddly intimate gesture that made my heart skip a beat despite my exhaustion.
“Do you think Brad heard?” I said, a sliver of fear creeping in.
“That creak was probably just the floorboards,” he said. “Probably.”
“Probably,” I agreed, wondering how I was going to explain the sounds Brad might have heard. I’m not sure watching porn would cover it this time. Not unless I’d been watching some particularly aggressive stuff, perhaps.
Bat hooked his leg over mine, tangling our limbs together. He pouted—bottom lip properly protruding—like a sulky teenager. “But don’t think about Brad right now.”
His fingers combed through my hair, gentle and soothing. The complete opposite of how he’d yanked it minutes earlier.
“What should I be thinking about?”
“How awesome I am in bed.” His grin turned smug. “I won’t get bored of that in a hurry.”
I opened my mouth to make some sarcastic comment about his ego, but his expression shifted. The playfulness drained from his face, replaced by something else.
Fear spiked through my chest. “What?”
“Stay very, very still.” His voice dropped to barely a whisper.