Chapter 27 #12
Because that's what I like most. Watching him try to escape the pleasure I'm giving him. Knowing he can't.
Knowing he doesn't really want to. My eyes drag down his body. Fuck every Jasper in the world. Every smug little piece of shit who ever thought he deserved this.
This view. This body. These sounds. They don't get it. They don't get him like this. They don't get to see his thighs shaking. They don't get to feel him twitch around their fingers. They don't get to hear that wrecked fucking moan when you hit the spot.
I do. I earned this. And now it's my turn. I move between his legs, eyes always locked on him. "I'm gonna show you," I breathe, lining myself up. "What I wanted to do all fucking day."
To shut you up when you were teasing.
To shut them up when they were watching.
To make you forget every name but mine.
He nods. Hands grabbing at the sheets. "Don't turn around." I tell him. His eyes meet mine.
"I want to see your face when I ruin you."
Rava smiles. "So sweet, even when you're choking on your own need." I lean in close, let my mouth brush against his, barely touching. "There's not gonna be anything sweet left on that face in one fucking minute."
I line up. No teasing this time. Just pure hunger.
I sink in.
Slow, all the way, until I get fully in, and lose every thought I ever had.
"How the hell do you feel too good," I hiss, already grinding my waist, like he's dragging me in deeper. And then his nails rake down my back.
I bury my face in his neck. "Don't stop that," I mutter, voice shaking from how deep I'm hitting.
I slam into him again. Harder. Rougher. His back arches. His hands claw again. His thighs tremble around me.
The sounds…fucking hell, the sounds are filthy. The bed is slamming against the wall. The headboard banging over and over. Skin clapping so loud it echoes around the room.
"You hear that, Rava?" I murmur against his mouth. "That's the sound of you getting fucked exactly the way you need." I grab his wrists and pin them over his head, pound into him.
His legs lock around me tighter than before. His body doesn't want me to ever leave. And I fucking love it. Every ugly scratch. Every tremble. Every sound we make together, echoing off the walls.
I lean in, grab his jaw with one hand, thumb dragging over his lips. He looks up at me with dazed eyes, mouth open, still panting from how hard I'm fucking into him. And I crash into him.
Sloppy. He tries to keep up with the kiss, but he's already gone, fucked out. His head tips back against the pillow, like he can't keep up with my pace. And I love it. I fucking thrive on it.
"Aww," I whisper, biting his bottom lip before I pull back just enough to speak.
"You can't even kiss me back right now." I thrust in deep, fast. I lick and kiss his neck.
"You're so fucking gorgeous like this, baby.
" I pull back just enough to get leverage and slam into him, hard enough to shove the air out of his lungs.
He gasps. Arches. And I keep going. Giving him everything.
"Take it." Another thrust.
"Fucking take it, angel." One more. Harder.
His hands scramble over my back, trying to find something to hold on to, anything, and I don't stop. Don't slow. I can't stop looking.
I keep watching my dick disappear into him, slide in and out. Every time I pull back and see the way he clenches around me, I swear under my breath.
It's hypnotizing. Addictive. We're not talking anymore. We're just fucking like crazy.
I'm so far gone I don't even register his movement. Don't realize what he's doing until he shoves me.
My back hits the bed.
And the next thing I know, he's climbing on top of me, hands on my chest. I gasp. Rava looks down at me, flushed and panting, a wild smile on his lips. "Sorry," he says, catching his breath. "But I missed riding you."
I drag a hand over my face. Holy fuck. How am I this lucky. That was the hottest thing he could do. His hands land on my chest as he settles over me. He leans forward, grabs my dick, and guides it back in himself. Slow. My head snaps back against the pillow.
"Holy shit, Rava…" I can't stop watching.
He sinks down, eyes locked on mine, and I feel it as he takes me in inch by inch. He opens for me, swallows me whole again. I groan, watching my dick vanish inside him, being devoured. He just starts to move. Slow at first, grinding down, and then he picks up speed.
Starts bouncing. And grinding. Back and forth. Loud.
The sound of skin hitting skin mixes with our breathy fucked out moans. And while he rides me, his hand drags up my chest. He pets my sternum. I'm unable to do anything but lose my mind over how good he looks fucking himself on my dick.
He's slamming down on me, sweat dripping off his chest, ass bouncing on me with a rhythm so perfect it feels like a fucking setup from the universe.
And then he leans down. Mouth brushing against my neck.
"This is what I was thinking about while Jasper was running his mouth with all that fucking bullshit.
" He grinds harder. "I was sitting there," he keeps going, still bouncing on me, "smiling like an idiot, pretending to listen—when all I wanted was to do this. "
Smack. Down on me again. "To feel you inside me."
Again.
"To fuck myself on you until you couldn't think of anything else but me."
Help.
Help.
This shouldn't be legal. Help. Fucking help me.
This guy is so hot I want to cry. My throat's closing up, my eyes sting. This is it.
I predicted it. I'm gonna die while I'm having sex.
It's too much. It's too fucking much. How does someone look like that while fucking themselves on me? How the hell is he real? I can't stop staring. I don't want to. I reach up, and grab his dick.
As soon as I wrap my fingers around it, he moans, head falling forward.
"If you keep—" he pants, voice barely holding on, "I'm gonna cum if you don't stop."
I squeeze harder. Stroke him faster. "Do it." My voice comes out desperate. "Let it go, baby. Come on. Let it fucking fall on me." His thighs are shaking as he grinds down on me again. I keep jerking him. His rhythm's breaking.
And then I hear those sounds. Those helpless, broken moans spilling out of his throat, so fucking beautiful it hurts. It's like a melody I want to live inside forever.
He loses it. His whole body tenses above me. His cum spills out in thick, messy stripes, hitting my chest, my stomach, my neck, fucking everywhere. The sight of it, the sound of him, the feel of him tightening around me…it wrecks me.
I snap my hips up once, burying myself as deep as I can, and then I finally, finally let go. I cum hard. So hard I swear I black out for half a second.
I see stars, actual fucking stars. My back arches off the bed. My fingers dig into his beautiful thighs. My whole body shakes as I pour everything I have into him. He leans forward and scratches down my biceps. Clawing at my arms, trying to stay grounded.
His eyes squeeze shut, mouth open in a silent gasp as he rides the last waves of it.
We're both still now.
Just lying there, our chests rising and falling out of sync. His cum is cooling on my skin. I'm still buried deep inside him. Neither of us moves. Only the sound of our breathing fills the room. Rava's forehead rests against mine, eyes still shut.
"Please tell me… that after that, you don't still feel jealous."
I let out a lazy, half-crazy laugh. Brush my knuckles over his flushed cheek. "Depends," I say, breathless, grin already spreading across my face.
"If I say I do…" I thrust my hips up the slightest bit, still inside him, just enough to make him gasp.
"…does that automatically mean round two?"
His eyes fly open. His mouth drops open. He blinks like he can't believe I still have that in me. I'm grinning through the ache.
"Because in that case…" I whisper, licking my lips, "…I'm still so fucking jealous, baby."
35) The Box
Rava
The bathroom mirror is fogged from our shower, but I can still see him through it. He has that sleepy, half-lidded look, toothbrush in his mouth.
He catches me staring. I look away, smiling.
He bumps his elbow into mine gently while we both brush.
We rinse, then head to the kitchen in silence.
Lulu's already up, stretched out on the sunny part of the floor.
I crouch down and run my hand over her soft little head. She purrs and flops dramatically.
"Alright," I say, looking up at him. "What should we make?" But before I can even straighten up, Gio is already moving. He gently takes me by the arm and guides me down into the kitchen chair. "You," he says. "Sit."
"Gio—"
"I'm cooking."
"I want to help—"
"You are helping," he says, walking to the fridge. "A lot." I laugh, leaning my arms on the table. "You do know you don't have to serve me, right?"
He looks back at me over his shoulder, smirking. "I know," he says. "But I want to."
"Why?"
He turns around then, spatula in hand. "Because," he says, "I want to make breakfast for my boyfriend." My stomach does this tight fluttery thing. "...Oh," I say, totally useless.
He grins. "Yeah. That's right. Say it again."
I lean on the counter. "Say what?"
"The thing. The b-word. Don't play dumb," he says. "Come on. I've been waiting my whole damn life to hear it from someone like you."
I swallow. "…My boyfriend?"
He closes his eyes like he's savoring it. "That one."
I laugh under my breath. I feel like I'm glowing. "You're really leaning into this, huh?" I tease. Gio turns back to the pan.
"I've never had a boyfriend before," he says, quieter now. "Let me be annoying about it."
I walk over to him and wrap my arms around his waist from behind, rest my chin on his shoulder. "You're not annoying, Gio."
We sit down to eat. His cooking smells better than anything I've ever had at a restaurant. We eat in comfortable silence, legs brushing under the table, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the wood. Halfway through, I swallow and lean back.
"I'm thirsty."