25. Preston #3
As pain sparks throughout my ass and lower back, a rush of unfamiliar pleasure grabs hold of me.
I think I come a little.
“Fuck, baby, you’re dripping all over my stomach. Mmm.” He pulls on my hair. “You like my cock inside you?”
“Yeah…”
“Yeah?”
“It…” I palm his cheek, not giving a fuck that my hand is shaking. “It feels good.”
“Fuck,” he whispers low in his throat. “I’m going to fuck you now, baby. I can’t hold back.”
“O-okay.”
“Goddammit.” He moans as he starts moving, his gaze on me at all times as if he needs to read me.
As if not holding my eyes hostage will prevent him from moving at all.
That familiar feeling of overflowing hits me again with each of his shallow thrusts.
“Your hole is stretching for me so well, baby.” He drops a kiss to the tip of my nose. “You’re taking my cock like a very good boy.”
I groan, vibrating with need, that feeling of drowning slamming into me, but instead of falling into the abyss of my own head, I’m falling into him.
His thrusts turn longer, deeper, and I’m panting, huffing out breaths through lips that he kisses, brushing his own all over my face and neck. His mouth lingers at my pulse point, then grazes my chin.
It’s almost as if he can’t get enough of me.
Of this.
“Your tight hole is so slippery wet.” A low, primal groan rumbles in his throat. “You’re stretching for my cock, yeah, baby?”
“It’s…big…” I breathe out. “I don’t know how you even fit.”
He chuckles and it draws on a hitch, because, like me, he’s so tuned to this that he can barely talk.
“I’ll always find my way inside you or to you, my prince.” There’s a strange edge to his voice as he thrusts deeper still. “No matter what it takes.” Thrust. “You’ve been mine all this time, even when I didn’t have you.” Thrust. “Even when I didn’t touch you.” Thrust. “Even when I didn’t own you.”
“Fuck… Mmm…there…” I groan, wrapping my arms around his back, pressing him closer as the friction makes my throbbing dick spurt precum.
“Here?” He pounds even deeper, hitting that good spot.
“Fuck…” My eyes roll back. “More…p-please.”
“Such a needy little slut.” He growls, but he’s fucking me harder, thrusting and shoving his cock against my prostate.
“Holy…fuck…” I cry out, my entire body caving under the onslaught.
“You can only be a needy slut for me, baby, you understand?”
I push at his chest, my cock thickening dangerously. “You think I’ll ever let anyone else see me like this, asshole?”
“You better not.” Thrust. Thrust. Thrust. “Or I’ll slice their throat right before your eyes.”
A chuckle rips out of me, coupled with a needy groan. “Is that supposed to scare me?”
He smiles, but he’s also trembling with arousal. “Of course it wouldn’t. I bet you’d take it as flirting if I were to kill for you.”
It flashes in my mind—the image of Marcus covered in blood, his expression solemn as he holds a knife, his eyes saying what his mouth isn’t—For you.
Me.
It’s beyond ridiculous, but that image paired with his merciless thrusts is sending me over the edge.
“I’m coming… Fuuuck… Marcus…”
“Yes, baby?”
“Harder…more…”
He thrusts deeper, kissing his way down my throat, then whispers against it, “Show me how much you love my cock in your ass.”
He grips my throat, choking me a bit just as my cock bursts, spraying cum all over him, the sheets, everywhere.
I don’t know what’s come over me—no, I do. I’m coming like I never have before due to being fucked by Marcus.
He collapses on top of me, and I realize it’s because I’m hugging him too tight, pressing him against me so forcefully that he loses his balance.
“Fucking hell, baby.” Marcus’s head is buried in my neck, and the rumble of his voice goes straight to my spent balls as he grunts, “Why are you so fucking addictive?”
I am?
A strangled noise rips out of him, catching on its way out. “I’m going to fill your hole with my cum, and you’ll take it…won’t you?”
“Yes…give it to me.”
“Fuck!”
Warmth floods me as Marcus shakes all over me, pounding his huge cock a few more times as it spurts cum.
I’m being filled with cum.
A man’s cum.
Marcus’s.
The sensation is not bad per se, it’s just odd, and it lulls me back to the reality of what I allowed to happen.
I let Marcus fuck me.
As he lifts his head, struggling to breathe, his face so fucking beautiful, a dangerous realization hits me.
Unlike what he suggested, this was not just a fuck.
I don’t feel like bursting out of my skin after just a fuck. I don’t feel scared of not having this again after just a fuck. I don’t get terrified of that noise that could swallow me whole.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Scratch.
A low growl leaves him as his lips claim mine in a ferocious kiss. I can feel his cum in my ass, and I think I’ve made a huge mistake.
I just had the best sex of my life, but I’m not happy.
Or, more precisely, happiness is shadowed by something far more ominous.
Black tendrils writhe in my throat, choking on the blinding terror that splinters my mind. I’m unraveling, thread by thread, splitting open from the inside, and I’m scared.
No, I’m terrified he’ll finally glimpse my fractured image bleeding through the cracks.
And then he’ll never want me again.