8. Reese
CHAPTER 8
Reese
The only thing I wanted to do more than come inside of Cory was gag him.
His handprints still burned against my ass, and with every flex of muscle as I tried to fuck him into the sheets, I found myself reminded of how good it had felt to lay myself over his knee and let him spank me. Spanking him in February had been great. He was fun to order around and his skin turned the prettiest shade of pink. Spanking Cory made me as hard as spanking anyone did…being spanked by him…that was another story entirely.
I sucked a violently deep bruise into his shoulder, quaking with pride every time the pain made him wince. His skin tasted like salt, like soap, and I was drunk on the very complicated things Cory made me feel. As my orgasm built into a knot at the base of my spine, I sank my teeth deeper into his flesh, like if I tried hard enough to take it out on him, he’d understand.
“Reese. Reese. Oh…” He chanted my name like a mantra and I fucked into him harder, my vision blurring around the edges for how close he’d gotten me.
“I need you to come,” I pleaded, biting back the sharp edge of my own arousal. “Need you to…please come.”
Cory whimpered.
He fucking whimpered .
And he grazed his palm across the tip of his dick and that was the end of it. Cum spurted out of him like a geyser, streaking over his fingers and his stomach. He threw his head back, eyes closed and spine arched in absolutely devastating pleasure. His asshole clamped down on my cock with such force it was hard to keep fucking him, but I forced one more thrust, burying myself fully into his body, and then everything went white.
My orgasm rocked through me with a thorough and unexpected force, and I came so hard it fucking hurt. The sounds I made weren’t my own; to my ears they sounded primal and guttural, like there was no choice but for them to exist. I sealed my lips over the divots my teeth left in his shoulder, entire body spasming as it felt like my balls were emptying every single drop of cum they’d ever made into Cory’s waiting body.
He cursed under his breath, trembling so ferociously in my lap I could feel it in my own bones. He was as far gone as I was, I realized, and even though my brain had been very close to drifting to a place it had never dared go before, I forced myself back to the present. Back to the floor of my apartment, where we’d ended up after the bed stopped giving me the leverage I needed.
“You were perfect,” I whispered, kissing his ear, his temple. “You were perfect for me, fuck.”
Cory hummed, leaning his weight back against me, knocking me down on my ass.
“You can say it.”
I huffed, nudging my nose into his sweat-damp hair. “You were a good boy, Cory.”
He shivered, resting. “I like it.”
Emotion swelled in my throat, and I found myself envious that it was so easy for him to walk the line between dominance and submission. That he could do both without ever questioning who he was and what he’d built his life on.
“God, you’re impossible,” he muttered, lifting enough that my cock slipped out of him. We both winced, and he pulled me up onto the bed. I lay down beside him, stretching out my legs, trying to ignore the way he fit so much better on my bed than I did.
“How so?”
“The only time you stop thinking is when you’re fucking.”
I laughed and rolled onto my back, covering my face with my forearm. “I don’t think that’s unusual.”
“I’m half-tempted to put you into subspace one of these nights just so you can turn your brain off for a minute.”
I choked on my own spit, forcing myself to swallow.
“Too much?” he asked, casually dropping his hand onto my chest and tracing swirls through the sweat.
“Sometimes,” I admitted.
He made a thoughtful noise at that, but didn’t say anything. We lay there together until it was easy for me to breathe again, and Cory let out a long exhale that dusted across my chest.
“Did you break the skin when you bit me?” he asked.
“No, I’d never.”
It was his turn to roll onto his back, to cover his eyes. “Why not?”
“I di—what?”
“That’s not a boundary,” he said softly. “Not a limit.”
“Oh.”
Oh.
“Well.” He cleared his throat. “Maybe next time?”
“Maybe next time.” I repeated, feeling like he’d just smacked me in the face with a dictionary.
“Maybe,” he said, moving into a seated position. He tapped his fingers against my hip. “Onto your front, then?”
“What?”
“Onto your front,” he said again. “I want to see my handiwork.”
I leveraged myself onto my hip, then onto my stomach. I was beyond in shock over the turn of the conversation. He’d never told me I couldn’t draw blood, but it had always felt like an unspoken sort of limit that wasn’t meant to be crossed. But Cory wasn’t like most men, I remembered. He was straight-talking and said the things he meant. He’d said no marks he couldn’t hide with a suit.
The only person creating fake limits between us, it seemed, was me.