70. Dylan #3
The kiss is a daydream, but the desire that roars through me is decidedly simple and solid. There’s nothing dreamlike about it. It’s carnal and true.
I open up for him and press my body closer to his. Adrian moans into my mouth, tongue sliding over mine.
The kiss morphs into something hot and wet and firm, and I sink into it. Get swept up. Lost in it.
His teeth scrape over my bottom lip.
His fingers spread over my stomach, and my thoughts grind to a halt.
I can only feel.
Adrian’s calloused palms run up my chest, fingertips tease and fingers grip, hands glide down my sides and over my abdomen.
I start to touch him too, but he catches my hands in his and firmly puts them on the mattress over my head.
I make a sound of protest, but Adrian shakes his head.
“It’s my turn to explore,” he says.
That promise makes my chest jolt and my insides melt with anticipation.
I nod because I can’t speak.
“Hold on to the headboard,” Adrian says.
I swallow hard and nod again, wrapping my fingers around the rails.
I’m rewarded with another kiss—the kind that steals the air from your lungs and makes you lightheaded and woozy. I’m drunk on his kisses. Overwhelmed. Dizzy.
His hands roam everywhere, reverently over the sensitive skin of my neck, more firmly on my chest, staking his claim on the cheeks of my ass.
He kneads the globes of my ass, separating them and studying me until I feel on edge and pitifully aroused.
His fingertips prod at my entrance, not dipping inside but caressing over it.
My ass clenches, and Adrian’s gaze turns even more heated.
I bear down. Or try to. He moves his hand away.
He comes back.
I cant my hips.
He moves away again.
It happens twice more before I let out a frustrated growl.
“Why are you like this?” I pant.
He has the audacity to throw me a wink, and I’m just about to consider being outraged about that when his teeth sink into my nipple, gently rolling over the pebbled flesh with his tongue to soothe the sting of the bite.
Embarrassingly desperate noises escape my throat, but then Adrian’s lips move lower, and I stop caring about anything that isn’t his greedy, perfect mouth.
His tongue skates over my chest and abdomen and makes his way down to my hip bone. My cock strains against my belly, seeking for friction and not finding any.
Adrian sits back on his heels, eyes moving over me.
I pry my fingers off the headboard and slide my palm over his thigh. Soft hair tickles my skin and sends another set of shivers up my spine.
I test my luck and move upward toward Adrian’s straining cock.
He grabs my wrist before I reach the grand prize, and I throw my head back against the pillow and groan in frustration.
His cock is right there, gorgeous and thick and hard, a pearly drop of precum on the tip. My mouth is watering for a taste, but I forget about it all a second later when his fingers find their way back to my ass.
“Spread,” he murmurs.
I do.
He circles his index finger along the edge of my rim, and his eyes stay on his fingers.
It’s more intimate than anything we’ve ever done.
The finger keeps circling. The tip dips inside me when I’m not expecting it, and my breath comes out in a rush. He pulls it out and starts massaging my entrance again, and I blink in some hazy sort of daze.
It happens again. The tip of his finger dips.
Again.
And again.
The fingertip delves inside me and is pulled back out. All of it in quick succession—short, teasing strokes, each time a bit deeper.
He works the finger inside me meticulously slowly and with inhuman patience while I squirm and pant and struggle to keep still. Then he adds a second finger and starts again from scratch, slowly teasing me open.
He lowers his head and kisses me while he strokes me from the inside. My whole body is tense, but my hole is so relaxed that he could probably push inside me with no effort on either of our parts.
He doesn’t though.
Instead, he lowers his head and flicks the tip of his tongue over the head of my cock.
My breaths are coming out exclusively as labored pants now, and my hands strain on the headboard. My body is glistening with a sheen of sweat, my muscles are trembling, and I’m so on edge that every time Adrian’s fingers move inside me my body clenches. It hurts.
He adds a third finger.
I have a death grip on the headboard.
“I will kill you,” I pant. A drop of sweat runs down my temple.
His fingers brush my prostate, and a sob escapes my throat.
“Baby,” he says, and my only consolation is that he sounds just as wrecked as I do.
My chest heaves with every breath I take.
Adrian sucks the tip of my cock between his lips.
My hips cant upward of their own accord, pushing deeper into his mouth.
He sucks while he crooks his fingers inside me, locating my prostate.
He strokes it, and I throw my head back, a cry of pleasure breaking free while pleasure coils tighter inside me.
He massages my prostate again.
The keening sound I let out is almost inhuman in its desperation.
“Christ, you’re perfect,” Adrian says, his voice a dark rasp.
Another sob escapes my throat.
I can’t.
I can’t anymore.
It’s too much.
I can’t.
“I love you, baby. So much,” he says.
He keeps up the torture, though. His fingers move in and out of me, with an occasional brush against my prostate.
There’s no rhyme or reason to it, so even the slightest of movements keeps me on the edge, trying to figure out when the next burst of pleasure will come and trying to prepare myself for it.
“Look at you fucking yourself on my fingers,” he says.
I didn’t even realize I was doing it. By now, my body has a mind of its own.
Shivers race through me.
I’m in pain.
It’s pain with pleasure.
But it’s still fucking pain.
“Baby,” he says again, hoarse but gentle.
“It hurts,” I manage to say. Sob.
Three fingers stroke me deep inside me. It’s not enough, but I can’t tell him that because even my thoughts are incoherent, let alone my words.
He pulls his fingers out of me, and the emptiness makes tears spring into my eyes.
“No, no, no, no, no,” I gasp. “Please don’t stop. Need you. Please.”
“Baby,” he says again. Wrecked. Again.
He slides his hand over my ankle, and I wrap my legs around his hips. His cock nudges at my entrance.
Somewhere in the hazy recesses of my mind, I register the small bottle of lube. He lines himself up with my hole, and his gaze meets mine.
I’m drunk with pleasure.
When the tip of his cock brushes my sensitive opening again, a whimper escapes.
He pushes inside me, slow and steady. There’s a slight, familiar burn that barely registers, but it can’t even begin to compete with the sensation of finally being filled.
Adrian bottoms out inside me with a groan. His body goes very still while he waits, giving me the time to adjust.
I close my eyes and roll my hips experimentally. He slips an inch deeper, and we both moan. He grits his teeth and hangs his head, panting loudly.
“Fuck. Give me a moment,” he gasps.
I shake my head. “I need you to move.”
“Dyl.” He sounds broken.
“Please!”
He pulls almost all the way out then thrusts back in, deep and steady. Heat starts building inside me. At first it’s an ember in my chest, then it starts expanding and growing, slowly and relentlessly.
I push my hips up, rocking against him, meeting him thrust for thrust. Adrian grunts and starts moving faster, putting more force behind his thrusts. I move up the bed as he pounds into me. It’s a relief.
He angles his hips, and fire ignites in my belly when he hits the spot.
“Baby,” he says again. Again wrecked. Again desperate.
The rest gets a bit hazy. It’s just friction and slick heat that builds inside me. Adrian’s cock stretches me open and his balls slap against my ass. There’s a pool of wetness on my stomach from the precum that’s been slowly leaking out of me.
I don’t think hearts are supposed to beat as frantically as mine does.
“I need,” I gasp. I can’t finish the sentence, but I don’t have to.
Adrian leans forward and grips the headboard, and he abandons all finesse then and there.
His next thrust into me has a wildness about it. His hips snap forward, and his cock drives deep inside me. He starts to pound into me over and over again, and the sheer force of his thrusts has us moving farther and farther up the bed.
I come without any warning.
I come so hard it hurts.
Sparks explode in front of my eyes and my body clenches and goes limp at the rush of pleasure that storms through me, destroying everything in its path until I’m left boneless and useless on the bed.
Adrian keeps driving into me, every thrust sending waves of pleasure through me from the aftershocks.
He comes with a shout and stills above me for a few seconds before he collapses on top of me, his forehead against my temple.
“I love you,” he mumbles.
“Love you too.” I fall asleep a second later.