Chapter 16 Rory #4
Then there was only our heavy breathing filling the quiet room as his slick fingers traced up and down my crease with maddening slowness, teasing rather than penetrating.
I whimpered as his mouth found the tender skin of my inner thigh, pressing soft kisses.
The scrape of his stubble created a perfect friction.
“Are you trying to torture me?” I gasped, arching my back.
His eyes locked with mine. “Just being thorough.”
When his finger finally breached me, just the tiniest bit, I screamed—a high, unfiltered sound that echoed through the cottage bedroom.
Fuck, I was already being so loud—too loud probably, way too loud. He was going to think I was putting on some ridiculous performance or something, but I couldn’t help it, it had felt so good.
Maxwell, finger still barely inside me, used his other hand to trace a path up my leg where his stubble had grazed. “Be as loud as you want. I want to hear you.”
As I battled back a strange prickle of wet heat threatening behind my eyelids, Maxwell’s finger resumed its careful exploration, easing in so slowly I thought I might combust from frustration. Every millimetre of progress was deliberate, gentle.
“I won’t break,” I whispered, but Maxwell maintained his maddeningly cautious pace.
Time became elastic as he worked me open with reverent, painstaking care, clearly terrified of hurting me, even a tiny bit. His brow furrowed in concentration, lips slightly parted.
My hand found his elbow, stroking along the firm muscle of his forearm until my fingers covered his.
“Like this,” I murmured, wrapping my hand firmly around his and pushing down hard, driving his finger deep inside me in one swift motion.
A gasp tore from my throat as his finger slid all the way in, filling me perfectly. I sighed in satisfaction, my eyes fluttering closed at the delicious fullness.
Maxwell’s breath hitched audibly, the sound making my cock twitch against my stomach. I clenched deliberately around him, squeezing his finger, and was rewarded with another breathy choking sound.
Taking control, I moved his hand, fucking myself on his finger while rolling my hips. Fire lit each of my nerve endings as I half thrashed in the sheets, digging my nails into the meat of his thighs to help ground me.
But I needed more.
“Another,” I demanded, forgetting to behave.
“What?” Maxwell sounded panicked. “Are you sure?”
I whined, pushing down harder on his hand. “Please.” Please, please, please.
Maxwell’s expression was a mix of concern and desire as he slowly withdrew his finger, adding more lube before carefully pressing two fingers against my entrance. I forced myself to relax, to be patient as he eased them in with that same infuriating caution.
I reached down to guide his hand again, but Maxwell captured my wrist with his free hand, squeezing tightly.
“Let me,” he said, voice low and commanding.
His fingers curled inside me, searching, and when they brushed against that spot, I arched off the bed with a strangled cry. Maxwell’s eyes widened, watching my reaction with fascination as he repeated the motion, more deliberately this time.
“There?” he asked, pressing firmly.
“Fuck—yes—right there,” I gasped, relishing the fullness, the perfect pressure against my prostate. His fingers now stroked inside me with growing confidence, stretching and scissoring.
I couldn’t help imagining how his tongue might feel there—hot and wet and—
Suddenly Maxwell’s fingers were gone, and I was tumbling through the air. He’d flipped me over, leaving me momentarily disoriented, face pressed into the pillow.
Strong hands grabbed my hips, pulling them up and back toward him. Before I knew what was happening, Maxwell’s tongue pressed against my hole, and I forgot how to breathe.
Resplendent.
Divine.
Perfection.
His mouth offered me gorgeous pressure, the wet heat of it pulsing and probing, each sweep of his tongue igniting constellations beneath my skin as he explored me with heady confidence.
My cock was stirring back to life, the oversensitive flesh responding to every flick of his tongue with sharp jolts of pleasure that bordered on too much.
Throughout it all, his hands never stopped moving—strong fingers caressing my thighs, kneading the muscle there before sliding up to stroke my lower back, his long arms easily reaching to trace patterns along my spine that made me arch into his touch.
I heard myself making sounds—half words and broken pleas—please and more and don’t stop and fucking hell, Theo, all tangled together in breathless desperation, my usual sharp tongue reduced to fragments.
Possibly, I could come again just from this, if I moved to thrust against the bed, but I wanted Maxwell inside me.
I pushed myself up slightly, glancing back over my shoulder. “Give it to me, now,” I gasped out, then remembering my manners, added, “Please.”
Maxwell responded with a light smack to my bottom that made me yelp in surprise and delight. I heard the cap of the lube bottle click open, followed by the wet sound of him slicking himself up.
I quickly positioned myself on hands and knees, pushing my ass up invitingly. Blood rushed through my ears as I felt that first press of Maxwell’s spectacular cock against me.
Gripping me tightly, he edged in so slowly I wanted to scream with frustration. I wiggled my ass back, trying to take more of him.
His hands clamped down on my hips, holding me firmly in place. “Have you seen the size of my dick?” he growled. “I don’t want to split you apart.”
I almost joked that I’d had bigger, but actually, I wasn’t sure that was true.
“And… I can’t bear to feel your pain. You won’t be able to hide it from me.”
Beneath his commanding grip, I could feel him trembling, his thighs quivering against the backs of mine. With restraint? With… nerves?
“Hey,” I said softly. I shuffled forwards, then twisted around, pushing Maxwell sideways until he was flat on his back. “I got this.”
He seemed stunned, though he let me position him like a doll, his eyes wide, unblinking. I leaned down and kissed his cheek tenderly, the lovely stubble brushing against my skin.
“You wanted me to be on top anyway,” I said with a wink.
Maxwell remained speechless as he stared up at me, watching as I climbed onto his lap, positioning myself above his mighty cock.
His eyes watched me with such intensity that I almost looked away, but something in their depths kept me captivated. With one hand, I reached back to guide him to my entrance, the blunt head pressing against me.
“All good?” I whispered, heart thumping, because for some reason, I still wanted to give him one more chance to back out.
Maxwell nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.
I began to lower myself, the pressure instantly building as his thick head breached me. The initial stretch burned fiercely, drawing a strangled cry from my throat. I paused, panting, adjusting to the intrusion.
“Fuck—you’re huge,” I breathed, forcing myself to relax around him.
Maxwell’s hands found my hips, his grip tender yet firm. “I told you,” he muttered.
“It’s fucking perfect,” I quickly reassured him. “I can’t wait for it. Just… can you stroke me? Please?”
His breath hitched as his hand claimed my softening cock, stroking gently.
It twitched happily in his hand, already hardening once more.
With streams of pleasure coursing through my veins, I closed my eyes and sank down another inch, taking more of him inside.
The burning soon morphed into something electric—a delicious fullness that made me tremble.
I felt split open in the most perfect way, stretched around him until there was no me and no him.
Like every empty space inside me had finally found its missing piece.
My head fell back as I worked myself further down his length, sinking myself onto his thickness with slow, deliberate movements.
“Christ, Rory,” Maxwell groaned beneath me.
When I finally bottomed out, I stilled, overwhelmed by the sensation of being so completely filled.
Maxwell’s eyes found mine in that moment—dark and intense and so fucking tender it knocked the breath from my lungs.
I felt like I was falling into those depths, tumbling headfirst into something I desperately wanted to drown in.
My hand flew to Maxwell’s chest; I could feel each of his heartbeats pulsing inside me.
“You good?” he asked, voice strained.
In answer, I lifted myself slightly before sinking back down. The friction nearly undid me—I couldn’t help the loud moan that escaped my lips, echoing throughout the room.
“Fuck yes,” I cried, finding a rhythm now, rising and falling on his cock with increasing confidence.
Maxwell’s hands gripped my hips tighter, guiding my movements while his hips began to thrust upward to meet me.
Each powerful surge drove him further inside—the rhythm we found together meant he kept striking gold, his cock pressing against that spot inside me that made white-hot fractals explode behind my eyelids.
“Right there,” I practically screamed, shameless in my pleasure. “Don’t stop—fuck—Theo!”
It was so perfect I could have wept. His impressive cock filling me completely, stretching me in the most delicious way.
The overwhelming fullness of him inside me, the feel of his body beneath mine, muscles taut as he worked himself to bring us pleasure—all of it combined into something transcendent.
But I wanted even more. More of him.
I wanted my body to carry the memory of him, to feel the ghost of his presence long after we finished.
To have this moment etched into my muscles and bones.
His cock driving into me, claiming me. I wanted him, and I wanted him hard.
I wanted bruises as proof, tangible evidence of this perfect madness.