Chapter 33 #2
The loudest, filthiest moan punches out of me, my good hand fisting the sheets as he pounds three fingers into me.
His eyes are locked on where I'm leaking steadily onto my stomach. “You’re making such a fucking mess. Haven't even gotten my dick in you yet and you're dripping.”
“Then stop talking and—”
He pulls his fingers out suddenly, and I whine. “Miss being filled already?”
“Shut up and get inside me.” My chest is heaving, sweat already making my shirt stick to my skin.
He tears the condom open, moves his jersey out of the way, then rolls it on. The slide of his hand over his cock as he slicks himself up makes my mouth water.
I hook my left hand behind my good knee, pulling it up to my chest to open myself wider.
He leans forward, bracing one hand on the mattress. His other hand holds the base of his cock as he lines himself up. “You're mine.” He pushes in, his swollen head breaching my rim. “Every scar. Every tear. Every. Single. Breath. It's all mine.”
My head drops back, eyes closing halfway. “Connor . . .”
He starts to pull back, then pushes in slowly, not giving me more than an inch or two.
I growl, moving to try to take more of him in. “Swear to fuck—”
Connor bottoms out with a hard thrust, balls slapping against my ass. “Fuck, baby. You’re so tight.”
“Oh, God.” I clench around him, my cock twitching and leaking more precum. “So . . . full.”
“Do that again and this is gonna be over real quick.”
“Then fuck me like you mean it.”
Connor leans over me, arms braced on the mattress on either side of my shoulders. I'm still holding my left leg to my chest with my good hand, while my right leg hooks around his hip, trying to pull him deeper.
He pulls out until just the tip's inside, then slams back in. “Like that, baby?”
“Harder.”
“Demanding fucker.” But he does it, pulling out and driving back in with more force, each thrust pushing me up the bed.
The angle is good with him leaning over me like this, but not quite right, not deep enough. “More. I need more.”
Connor's breathing hard, sweat beading along his forehead. “Greedy. So fucking greedy.”
He shifts, changing the angle slightly, his arms still caging me in. The next thrust grazes my prostate. Close but not enough.
“Connor, please.”
He stops moving and sits up, still buried inside me. “Put both legs over my shoulders. I’m going to fold you in half while I wreck this pretty hole.”
Jesus fuck.
I lift my right leg first, settling it over his shoulder myself, then my left on his other shoulder. Connor's hands stay at his sides, letting me do it at my own pace. Once I'm settled, he turns his head and presses his lips to the inside of my right knee. Just a soft kiss, barely there.
My breath catches. “Again. Please.”
He kisses the same spot, lingering this time.
Maybe one day soon I'll be okay with him touching all of me. Maybe one day his hands on my scars won't make me panic.
But not today. And that's okay.
“Ready?”
I nod.
Connor leans forward again, the position folding me nearly in half, but his cock slides deeper. “Your shoulder okay?”
“For fuck's sake—”
He pulls out and slams back in hard, cutting me off. “Such a mouthy shit I married.”
Each thrust punches sounds out of me that I didn't know I could make. My cock’s trapped between us, the friction from his jersey and my stomach has me on edge already.
“Get your hand on your cock.” He shifts his weight, giving me room. “Now.”
I shove my left hand between us, fisting myself. “Harder. Fuck me harder.”
“So desperate for my dick, aren't you, baby?” He starts railing into me. “Fuck. Your hole’s squeezing me like it never wants to let go.”
“Connor . . . holy shit . . . don’t fucking stop.” My hand flies over my cock, trying to match his punishing rhythm. Heat coils tight in my gut, balls drawing up. “Close. Fuck, Connor, I'm close.”
The bed rocks as he fucks into me, grunting like a feral animal. “Do it. Fucking soak us both.” He angles his hips, making sure to destroy my prostate with every thrust. “Let me feel that tight hole milk me dry.”
I grab his bicep and cry out as my orgasm rips through me. My thighs shake violently against his shoulders, my abs clenching so tight they hurt. Cum erupts from my cock, painting my neck, chest, and his jersey. My hole clamps down on his cock, spasming around him.
“Jesus fucking—Ryan!” Connor's whole body goes rigid, muscles flexing under my grip. His hips slam forward one last time, and he groans like he's dying.
My husband stays buried inside for a moment, arms shaking, then pulls out slowly. I hiss at the empty feeling. He reaches for my right leg, carefully lifting it off his shoulder and guiding it down to the bed, then I lower my left leg myself.
He sits back on his heels, panting as he stares at the sling. “Your arm okay?”
I nod, still trying to catch my breath.
“Fuck, baby. I can live inside that ass.” Then his eyes drop down to his jersey. “Seriously? How the fuck am I gonna explain cum all over this?”
I smile sheepishly.
“Why can’t you just give me hickeys like everyone else?”
“Keep talking and I’ll come all over your face next time.” My cock twitches.
Oh, Jesus fuck.
Next time might be in five minutes.
He leans down and presses a kiss on my forehead, then to the tip of my nose, and finally to my lips. “I love you, Ryan Henneman.”
“I love you too, Connor Henneman.”
After losing my family, I never thought I'd be whole again. Definitely never thought I'd end up with the ruthless titan choosing me. Or that I'd become his shield.
Now here I am, with a different kind of family, one I found.
I still got cracks. Still got scars. But Connor fills them, makes them bearable.
Because he’s mine.