CHAPTER 28 #2
"Good. I'm going to move now. Tell me if it's too much."
I start a slow rhythm, pulling out and pushing back in, just shallow movements at first. His breathing changes, becoming deeper, and I watch his face for any sign of discomfort.
But there's nothing but curiosity and growing pleasure.
His eyes are closed now, his lips parted, small sounds escaping with every slow stroke.
I add more lube, making sure everything stays slick and easy, and then I crook my finger slightly, searching. And searching. And searching. And then—
"Fuck!" His back arches clean off the bed, his whole body going rigid for a second.
I grin. "Found it."
"What—what was—" He can't seem to finish the sentence.
"Feels good, right?"
"Feels—oh God—" I stroke over it again and he makes this choked sound, "—mmmmm."
I work him slowly, carefully, making sure to brush against that spot with every stroke. His cock is leaking, creating a small puddle on his stomach. Every time I press against his prostate, his dick jerks, another drop of precum forming at the slit.
"Devon, I—" He breaks off into a moan when I press more firmly.
"Yeah? You what?"
"I don't know. Just—fuck—don't stop."
I have no intention of stopping. He takes it so well, his body opening for me, accepting the intrusion. The slide is smooth and wet, and I'm completely mesmerized by the sight of my finger disappearing inside him.
I set up a rhythm, fucking him slowly with my finger. His cock is twitching now, jumping against his stomach, and he's making these continuous sounds that are the hottest thing I've ever heard.
"You're so gorgeous like this," I tell him, and I mean every fucking word. "Taking it so well. Being so brave."
"Not brave," he gasps out between breaths. "Just really want this."
"Yeah? You like being fingered? Like having something inside you?"
"Jesus, Devon." He breathes. And then, "Yes."
I speed up slightly, my finger pumping faster, and his hips start moving on their own, fucking back against my hand, chasing the sensation. He's completely lost in it now, whatever inhibitions he had earlier completely gone. His hands are fisted in the sheets, and his whole body is trembling.
I watch him, completely mesmerized. This powerful man, this athlete who can check people into boards and skate circles around opponents, reduced to a shaking, desperate mess by my finger inside him.
"I'm close. I'm so fucking close."
"Not yet." I ease off, lightening my touch, and he whines.
"Devon, please. I need—"
"Patience," I say, even though my own cock is throbbing now.
I keep him right there on that edge, working my finger inside him in a slow, steady rhythm that's just enough to keep him desperate but not enough to push him over.
Every time I feel him getting close, I back off, changing the angle or the pressure, keeping him suspended in that perfect space between pleasure and release.
"Please," he begs, and the word comes out broken. "Devon, please—"
His whole body is trembling now, a fine sheen of sweat covering his skin. His cock is so hard it looks painful, flushed almost purple, and it's twitching with every press of my finger.
I shift my body weight to one knee, then the other, just enough to slide my boxers off with one hand.
Then, I lean forward, shifting so that my hips are aligned with his, my free hand wrapping around both our cocks, pressing them together.
The contact makes us both groan—him from the sudden pressure, me from finally getting some relief.
I stroke us together, my hand sliding easily with all the precum we've both leaked, while my other hand keeps working inside him, fingers curving to hit his prostate with every thrust.
"Oh fuck," he gasps. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh—"
I speed up both motions, stroking us faster while my finger pumps into him harder, nailing that spot inside him over and over. "Let go," I manage. "I've got you."
As if he's been waiting for permission, his orgasm tears through him, his whole body going rigid, back arching so hard I'm worried he'll pull a muscle.
He comes hard, spilling between us, hot and wet, coating both our cocks and my hand with his cum.
His ass clamps down on my finger, pulsing rhythmically, and it's about as much as I can take.
I come with a groan, adding to the mess between us, my hand still working both our cocks through the aftershocks. I keep my finger buried inside him, feeling every clench and pulse as his orgasm rolls through him.
When it finally subsides, he goes slack on the mattress, boneless and spent. I carefully withdraw my finger, and he makes a small sound of loss.
Lowering my body I lie down, half on top of him, and we stay like this for a moment, both of us breathing hard, sticky and satisfied and completely wrecked.
"How was that?" I ask, even though I know the answer from the blissed-out expression on his face.
"Fucking transcendent."
I laugh, rolling off him, reaching for the towel I keep by the bed, but before I can start cleaning us up, he shifts, starting to sit up.
"I should go. I have practice tonight."
I glance at the clock above Phillip’s bed. "Not for another hour."
"Yeah, but I need to shower and—"
"Hold that thought." I grab my phone and pull up Leila's contact, hitting call before Ace can protest.
She answers on the second ring, and I put her on speaker. "Devon? What's up?"
"Hey, hon. Quick question. Can you tell your husband that Ace will be skipping practice tonight? Doctor's orders."
There's a pause. "Doctor's orders?"
"Yep. I'm the doctor."
Ace is staring at me, somewhere between horror and amusement, his ears going pink again.
Leila laughs. "I'll let him know."
"You're the best."
"I know. Have fun, you two."
She hangs up and I toss my phone aside, grinning at Ace's expression.
He relaxes back and folds one arm under his head, amusement dancing in his post-orgasm gaze. "You're absolutely batshit crazy, you know that?"
I lean in, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, tasting salt and sweat. "And you wouldn't have it any other way. So who's the crazy one, really?"