Chapter 15 Ravenswood #5
I took away the restraints carefully. The moment I helped him up, he wrapped his arms and legs around me, clinging tight, cock hard and leaking between us, body alive and buzzing with adrenaline and victory.
He buried his face in my neck, biting down just hard enough to hurt, and I staggered back a step, laughing low and wild, arms locked under his thighs.
“Hold on,” I muttered, kissing the side of his head, my hands splaying over the curve of his ass to anchor him in place.
He clung tighter, legs cinched around my waist, breath ragged against my skin.
I carried him down the hallway, pace unhurried—letting him feel my strength, letting him know I’d never drop him, never let him fall.
We crashed through the bedroom door together.
I turned and pressed him against the wall first, grinding our bodies together, swallowing his gasp in another bruising kiss.
He fought for dominance with teeth and tongue, but I didn’t let him win—wouldn’t let him—not tonight.
Instead, I pulled back, grinned at the way he swore at me, then tossed him bodily onto the bed.
He bounced once, sprawled out, hair wild, cock straining against the last scrap of black fabric. I followed, barely giving him a chance to breathe, hands fisting in the waistband of his underwear.
He arched up, daring me. “What, going gentle on me now?”
“Not a fucking chance.” My voice was rough, all gravel and want.
I hooked my fingers into the fabric and tore them in one swift motion, splitting them down the seam, baring him completely.
His cock slapped up against his stomach, thick and flushed, precome slicking his abs.
I stared for a heartbeat—worshipping, wanting—then dropped to my knees at the edge of the bed.
He tried to reach for me, but I caught his wrists and pinned them over his head, holding him down as I bent to taste him.
My tongue traced the vein up the underside of his cock, slow and reverent, licking up the slick as if it was the only thing I’d ever want.
He gasped, hips jerking, legs spread wide, inviting me in.
I mouthed at his length, kissing and licking, taking my time, savouring the salt and heat and the wild, living tension thrumming through him.
Every sound he made spurred me on. I took him deeper, lips stretching around the girth, swallowing him down inch by inch until I felt the head of his cock bump the back of my throat.
“Fuck—Dom, wait, I’m—” His words broke on a gasp as I swallowed again, nose pressed to his belly, the scent of him flooding my senses. I didn’t let up. I wanted him undone, wanted him ruined for anyone else, wanted to give him everything he’d given me and more.
I bobbed my head, building a rhythm, my tongue working in counterpoint to the suction, one hand stroking what I couldn’t fit, the other bracing his hip when he started to lose control. I wanted him to know that he could let go, that I could take everything, no matter how hard, how fast, how messy.
He was close, I could feel it—his thighs tensing around my head, his hands fisting in the sheets, his breath coming in ragged bursts. I reached up, dragging my nails down his abs, then cupping his balls, rolling them gently as I sucked him even deeper.
But just as his body started that last wild rush toward release, I pulled back. I let his cock slip from my mouth with a wet pop, leaving him flushed and desperate, trembling on the edge. His hips bucked up, chasing friction, but I pressed my palm to his belly and held him still.
“Not yet,” I said, voice dark with promise and warning. “You don’t come until I say. You want to be ruined for me, Cal? You’re going to learn how to wait.”
He groaned—frustrated, desperate, every muscle in his body trembling with denial and need. “Dom, please—”
I cut him off, then manhandled him, flipping him easily onto his side, then rolling with him until we were tangled together—me behind him, my chest pressed to his back, my cock throbbing against the curve of his ass.
I reached between his legs and gave his balls a slow, possessive squeeze, then leaned in, licking a stripe up the side of his neck.
“On your back,” I ordered. He obeyed instantly, breath ragged, legs falling open, cock flushed and leaking onto his stomach.
I crawled over him, straddling his chest, then shifted until my cock hovered just above his face.
At the same time, I slid down so my mouth aligned with his ass, his thighs hooked over my broad shoulders.
He stared up at me, eyes wild, pupils blown with lust. I braced one hand on the headboard, the other holding his thigh open, and bent down—nose almost brushing the tight, pink pucker of his hole. I paused, breathing him in, letting the heady, musky scent of him flood my senses.
“Fuck, you smell perfect,” I growled, voice gone guttural with hunger. I pressed my face in, inhaling deeply, letting him feel just how much I wanted this—wanted him.
Then I let my tongue dart out, teasing at first, just a flick over the rim, watching the way his whole body arched off the bed in response.
I licked again, longer this time, dragging the flat of my tongue from his balls to the top of his crack, then back down, swirling slowly around the tight ring of muscle.
He shuddered, gasping, his hands flying to grip my thighs, desperate for purchase.
I didn’t let up. I dove in, tongue spearing inside him, fucking him with it, moaning into the heat and tightness, the taste of him—salt and sweat and the unique, addictive flavour that was pure Cal.
I rimmed him with wild, greedy thoroughness, alternating between licking, sucking, and fucking him open, working him until he was writhing, babbling, reduced to nothing but helpless, raw need.
I felt his mouth close around the head of my cock, his tongue lapping at the sensitive underside, trying to focus, to give back even as I wrecked him.
But he was losing ground fast. Every time I pulled back and blew a cool breath over his hole, his whole body jerked, his cock pulsing hard against my chest.
I pressed my mouth in, nose buried, tongue flicking, licking, tasting, then sucking hard, determined to leave him ruined for anyone else. “You’re mine,” I murmured between laps, letting the words vibrate against his skin. “Mine to eat. Mine to fuck. Mine to fill until you’re dripping with me.”
He whimpered, his legs trembling, hole clenching around my tongue. I hooked his thighs over my shoulders and went deeper, tongue-fucking him while my fingers traced teasing circles over his cock and balls, never giving him enough, always pulling him back from the edge.
I pressed a kiss to his hole, then pulled back to stare, eyes gone dark and hungry. “You ready for me to fuck you, Cal? Ready for me to fill you so deep you can’t think, can’t remember anything but the way you belong to me?”
He could barely form words—voice breaking, body trembling, cock leaking onto his belly as he nodded, utterly ruined. “Yes, Dom. Please. I need it. I need you.”
I grinned, rough and hungry, knowing I’d won—that this was surrender and victory all at once. “Good. Because I’m not stopping until you’re begging for mercy.”
I wiped my mouth on the back of my hand, sitting back on my heels for a moment, just taking him in—body trembling, skin flushed, hole slick and open from my tongue, cock leaking so much he was making a mess of the sheets.
He looked like a man unraveled, all edges and need, beautiful and desperate and completely, utterly mine.
I reached for the lube on the nightstand, popping the cap one-handed, not looking away as I slicked my fingers. Cal watched me through heavy-lidded eyes, still on his back, chest rising and falling in frantic rhythm.
“On all fours,” I ordered, voice gone dark and guttural. “Show me.”
He rolled to his stomach with a graceless eagerness that made my cock twitch, scrambling up onto hands and knees. I took a moment to watch him—back arched, ass high, thighs spread, his pink hole shining wet in the low light.
I knelt behind him, one hand coming down hard on his hip to hold him in place.
“Don’t move,” I warned, and when he stilled, I let myself go—leaning in and licking a stripe up the back of his thigh, across the curve of his ass, until I was back where I wanted to be.
I mouthed at his hole again, licking, teasing, just to hear him groan, then reached under and wrapped my hand around his cock, stroking him in time with the flick of my tongue.
He gasped, shuddered, every muscle straining as he tried not to fuck my hand, tried not to lose what little control he still had. “Dom, please—fuck, I can’t—”
I cut him off by sucking the head of his cock into my mouth from behind, taking him deep, letting the angle stretch my lips and jaw.
My free hand slicked with lube, found his entrance, and pressed one finger inside, slow and deliberate, working him open again.
He keened, hips rocking involuntarily, the pressure of my mouth and hand and finger threatening to undo him in seconds.
“Hold it,” I growled around the thick weight of him, letting my tongue swirl along the sensitive underside as I pressed a second finger in, scissoring, stretching, making him ready. “Don’t you fucking come until I tell you.”
He whimpered, nodded, hands clawing at the sheets as I worked him open, three fingers now, fucking him deep and slow.
His cock throbbed in my mouth, leaking onto my tongue, but I kept him on the edge—edging him with merciless precision, never quite enough, always pulling back just before he could tip over.
When I finally let his cock fall from my mouth, he was panting, broken. “Please—please, Dom, I need—”