Chapter 33 Oren #2
“Belt,” I said, taking a step back. “Don’t fucking snap at me, Thorne. You might’ve been praised before, but again, it’s reserved for obedience.”
“You’re the one who couldn’t stay hard for longer than five minutes,” he quipped, slipping the leather through his belt loops before unfastening it. “Quite a new low, even for you, Valens. Your composure is slipping, and I find it rather humorous if we wish to talk about being pathetic.”
“I’m not the one on my knees, Graves.” I kicked his feet apart, angling myself forward as I snatched the belt from his waist, a wicked thought rising to the surface.
“I may be on my knees, but I’m not the one who came in record time.”
Ignoring his desperate plea for dominance, I wrapped the belt around his hands, giving them a sufficient tug before looping it through one of the handles on the drawers. I curled my hand around his neck and shoved him until his back was flush against the kitchen island. “Shut up.”
His lips curled into a sneer as he yanked against the makeshift binding. “Make me.”
My hand tightened, a wicked smirk planting itself on my face as I squeezed. “Aw, you’re asking me to make you, but love, you’re practically begging for a touch. The more you talk, the longer it takes for me to fill you.”
Contemplation flashed in his irises, but just as quickly as it was there, it vanished. Holding my gaze, his brows furrowed, apparent agitation dispelling itself across his features. Even though its presence became undeniable, he didn’t utter a single word.
“That’s a good boy,” I uttered, licking my bottom lip as I uncurled my fingers, allowing them to trace his chest before unbuttoning his pants. With a single tug, I pulled them down, but let my fingers rest along the hemline of his briefs.
His hips shifted subtly, his hardness undeniable beneath the taut fabric. Groaning, his head fell back against the cupboards, his chest sinking with a defeated exhale.
At that groan, I slipped my thumbs under the fabric and pulled, releasing his cock. I moaned at the sight, my fingers barely grazing it.
“Fuck,” he hissed, a slight blush coating his cheeks alongside his vulnerable need. “O-Oren…”
The pad of my finger swiped over the tip, collecting the bead as I placed it on my tongue. “Hmm?” I asked, raising a brow.
His hips rolled forward, striations dancing across his thighs. Tugging against the belt once more, the cupboard jerked forward, a sharp crack following. “I will ruin your fucking kitchen island if you keep toying with me.”
I grinned. “All you had to do was ask,” I said as my tongue swirled over two of my fingers. Once coated, I placed them in front of his lips. “Spit on them.”
Obeying, he gathered a mouthful of saliva, coating them both just as I’d asked. “What are you—”
Without warning, I placed my other hand on his thigh and, like I’d done the first night we’d given ourselves to each other, I did the same. My fingers shoved into his entrance, angling my knee to rest beside his to gain the leverage I knew would inflict maximum pleasure.
His toes curled instantly, his head slamming back to greet the cupboard. “God, shit!”
“Fuck, baby, you’re tight.” I curled my fingers, my eyes meeting his gaze. “You want my cock?”
His back instinctively arched, a lengthened whine falling from him. “Y-Yes, please… I need… Y-You.”
“Fuck, I need you too,” I answered, unable to hold myself back any longer as I removed my fingers, a whimper escaping him at the sudden lack of me.
Already hard again, I placed my knee underneath his leg. Shifting him, it allowed me better access before I wrapped my hands around his hips. Using that as leverage, I thrust all the way into him, the immediate feeling both a sensation of relief and pleasure.
And the moan he unleashed?
Fuck.
His eyes rolled back, shoulder blades meeting as his chest rose. “O-Oh, God! Oren!”
“Fuck, Thorne. God, you’re sucking me in like the pathetic whore you are, you understand, right?” At his silence, I dug into his cheeks, pulling his gaze to mine. “Answer the fucking question.”
“Y-Yes, Daddy, I f-fucking understand. I’m yours. Your pathetic whore. Your toy. Whatever you want. I am yours.”
Another thrust, slower this time as I waited for the nickname I wanted… the first nickname he’d ever given to me. “Your what?”
“You’re mine, dove.”
I slammed into him, his head hitting the cupboard with the impact. “Mine,” I repeated, reaching to undo the belt above as I maintained my pace.
God, I wanted him to unravel further because of me. Fucking me.
“Oh, fuck, Oren,” he cried out, his legs folding in on themselves as he struggled against me. “F-Fuck… You feel so fucking good.”
I managed to release the belt’s hold on his hands as they dropped to his sides. My fingers found his hips once again, using his newfound freedom to my advantage as I completely pulled out. God, I was aching, but I wanted him begging.
His nails dragged across the tile, his head lulling back as he struggled to look at me. “W-Why did you… Why did you stop?”
“You know why, my love. I need to hear that you want it. I need you fucking begging before I ram my cock into your ass again.”
His throat bobbed, but it wasn’t with a level of innocence, but a plan.
Shifting, he wrapped his fingers around the hem of his shirt, tugging it up over his head to reveal the array of tattoos coating his skin.
The overhead lighting glinted against his nipple piercings, which quickly vanished from my sight as he flipped himself over, raising his ass for me and bringing his chest to settle back on the kitchen floor.
“Please,” he whispered, kneeling before me bare in all ways. “I want your cock. I need your cock. I need to feel you feel me… Please, dove. Every ounce of me is aching for—”
I didn’t let him finish as I slammed into him with every ounce of strength I had remaining, my fingertips clawing into his back as I fucking moaned. “F-Fuck!”
His scream tore through the kitchen, his palms slapping against the tile as I buried myself inside him. Legs trembling already, he whined headily, his breath hitched with the overwhelming wave of pleasure. “O-Oh, shit. Shit, Oren!”
I angled myself deeper, hitting his prostate to stimulate his arousal further.
I’d learned his body, the areas that made him weak—the areas that made him double over in pleasure.
Continuing to dig my nails further into his skin to add that mix of pain, I grunted.
“God, Thorne. Fuck… Fuck, I can’t… God, you feel so good. ”
“C-Close…” he stuttered, euphoria flooding each of his senses. “I-I… Can I… Can I cum for you?”
I tensed, the plea in his voice sending me over the edge. “G-God!” I cried, filling him with my seed as I tumbled over the edge. “Shit. Shit!”
A deep, graveled moan left him as I flooded his essence. His body trembled beneath me, the restraint he held onto himself slipping as I fully came undone.
“C-Cum for me,” I said through labored breaths, continuing my thrusts for him as I completely emptied.
He unraveled.
A guttural groan rolled from his parted lips, his frame tensing against me as he fell apart beneath me.
Knees dragging across the tile, he thrashed slightly, battling against the sensitivity that swathed his ability to think straight.
With his release, his hips rocked forward, his seed coating the ground between his thighs with each whimpered breath as he plummeted from his high.
“O-O-Oren… F-Fuck… Shit…”
Pulling out, I placed a kiss on his back, my lips trailing his tattoo before leaning away. “God… Thorne, that was… that was—”
A doorbell rang through the house, its chime echoing in the kitchen as I looked at the clock. Fucking hell.
Scrambling to stand, my legs were slightly shaky as I offered a hand to Thorne, who looked worse than I did. “And this is why I said no distractions.”