Chapter 8 #2
I dart my tongue out to taste the pad of his thumb. “So, you trust me?”
Instead of answering, he picks up the foil packet and flicks it off the bed. It lands on the orange carpet.
“Fuck, Dominic,” I breathe.
“You said you wanted to leave here full of my cum,” he growls. “How else am I supposed to give that to you?”
I want to kiss him. I want to press my mouth against his, taste him, breathe him in. But I know that would be crossing a line. That’s not the game we’re playing. So I just wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, and look him dead in the eye.
“Then what are you waiting for?” I reach down and grab his slick, bare cock, guiding it to my entrance. “Breed me, Dominic. Do your worst.”
He pushes my thighs back until my knees are almost touching my shoulders. Looming above me, his gaze drifts over my body, taking in my exposed hole, my hard cock, the mess I’ve already made on my stomach.
“You’re trembling,” he says, pressing the thick head of his cock against my lubed-up hole. “Don’t tell me you’re nervous now. You were so ballsy all day.”
“Not nervous,” I lie. “Excited.”
He applies a little more pressure, enough to make me feel the burn of the stretch. My hole clenches against him, fighting and begging at the same time.
I cry out as the head pops inside, breaching the tight ring of muscle. The sting makes my whole body tense up. “Holy fuck.”
Dominic stills, buried just past the tip, and I can feel him throbbing inside me. “I don’t have to be gentle with you, do I?”
“Please don’t.” I’m panting, gripping his arms, trying to will my body to open for him. “God, please don’t be gentle. I can take it.”
“Yeah?” He sinks deeper, inch by thick inch, watching my face twist. “I’m starting to think you’re not as tough as you pretend to be.”
I throw my head back against the pillows, a sob catching in my throat.
He’s huge. Bigger than I’ve ever taken. I’ve never felt a stretch like this.
My body wants to push him out, to tighten against the invasion, but I force myself to relax, to welcome him in, to take every last inch he’s giving me.
“Don’t underestimate me,” I grit out. “If I want something hard enough… fuck… I’ll take it. ”
“Hard enough, huh?” He slams the rest of the way inside with one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt.
I scream, my back arching off the bed, hands scrabbling at the bedspread and the cheap sheets beneath it. For a second, all I can feel is blinding pain. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I just lie there, impaled on his cock, my body struggling to accept him.
“Too much?” he murmurs, but he doesn’t pull out. He stays there, balls deep, letting me feel his weight, his size, every throbbing inch of him.
I shake my head. Tears are streaming down my face. I reach down and grab his thighs, fingers digging into hard muscle. “No. It’s… perfect. You’re perfect.”
“God, you’re a fucking masochist,” he says, sounding equal parts horrified and impressed.
“I’m whatever you need me to be. A hole to fuck. A mouth to use. A body to bruise. I don’t care.”
He lowers himself onto his elbows, his chest crushing against mine. He’s so heavy. “Stop that,” he murmurs. His breath is hot on my cheek.
“Stop what?”
“Selling yourself short.”
I’m so confused, I can’t speak. I came here to be used. That’s the whole point. To be a vessel for his anger. And instead, I’m getting... tenderness?
“Look at me,” he commands.
I open my eyes. His face is right above mine. Those eyes are burning, but there’s a warmth in them I wasn’t expecting.
“From now on,” he says, “you don’t talk about yourself like that. Understand? Not in front of me. You’re not a hole, or a mouth, or a fucking toy. You’re just Ryan.”
He pulls out almost all the way, leaving me empty and aching, then drives back in hard enough to make the headboard slam against the wall. I cry out again, but this time pain and pleasure blur into the same thing.
“Ryan,” he says again, thrusting. “Just Ryan. Do you understand me?”
All I can do is nod, my teeth chattering, my whole body vibrating.
Then he lets loose. Punishing strokes, his hips snapping against my ass, the bed groaning with every thrust. The room fills with ragged breaths, grunts, the wet slap of skin on skin.
He’s watching me, face tight with concentration, sweat beading on his temples as he pounds into me again and again.
My own sounds spill out of me, whimpers and needy moans I couldn’t stop if I tried.
I wrap my legs tighter around his waist, meeting him thrust for thrust, taking everything he’s giving me and begging for more.
The sting fades into a deep, satisfying ache that radiates through my whole body.
The dolphin painting rattles on the wall.
The cheap mattress is doing nothing to cushion the force of him.
I’m a mess. Drooling, sobbing, babbling nonsense.
Sweat drips into my eyes, making them sting.
But even through the blur, I can’t stop looking at him.
His muscles bunching and releasing, the fire in those eyes, the possessive look on his face as he claims my body.
This is what I wanted. This is what I craved.
A man who isn’t afraid to let go, to be rough, to take what he wants.
But the gentleness underneath, how he keeps saying my name between thrusts... That’s the part that’s ruining me.
His big feet press into the mattress for leverage, toes splayed, arches straining. I think about how they tasted, how they smelled, and my cock pulses hard against my stomach.
“Harder,” I gasp. “Fuck me harder.”
He reaches down and wraps a hand around my throat. “You’re not in charge here, remember?”
His fingers tighten just enough to cut off a sliver of my air.
My vision swims. The world narrows to the feeling of him inside me, his weight pinning me down, the pressure on my throat.
It’s a heady rush. I don’t know why I love it so much, but I do.
I’m not a small guy. But under him, I feel small. And I love it.
“God, yes,” I choke out, grabbing his wrist, not to push him away but to hold him there. “Let me feel your strength, Dominic. Let me feel your anger. Spit in my face.”
He leans down, putting more weight on my throat, and growls in my ear. “What did I just say about talking about yourself like that?”
“Do it,” I beg. “Please. It’s not about me, it’s about you. Your anger. Your frustration. Let me take it. And fuck, it turns me on. So spit in my face.”
And then he does. With my mouth hanging open, gasping for air, he spits right on my tongue.
A warm, thick glob that slides down my throat.
I swallow instantly, greedily. A shudder racks my body from my scalp to my toes, and my dick jerks against my stomach.
It’s almost as intimate as a kiss. The next best thing, anyway.
To have not only swallowed his cum, but now this too. All of him, in me, on me, around me.
He lets go of my throat. I gasp, my lungs filling with the stale, cigarette-tinged air of the room.
“Filthy,” he mutters, and the corner of his mouth kicks up. “Fucking filthy.”
“You love it,” I rasp, my throat raw. “Admit it.”
Instead of answering, he pulls out of me, leaving my hole gaping, fluttering around nothing. I whine at the emptiness, the sudden loss of him.
Before I can protest, he flips me over. My face smashes into the pillow, ass in the air.
He yanks me back onto his cock, impaling me in one brutal thrust. I scream into the pillow as he fucks me deeper, harder from this angle.
His hips slam into my ass, driving the breath from my lungs with each punishing thrust.
He’s rearranging my insides, making room for himself. Hollowing me out only to fill me up again. Branding me on the inside. My whole body is on fire, and I know I’m not going to last much longer.
Everything’s a blur.
Balls slapping my ass. Headboard cracking against the wall.
Grunts and whimpers and moans. The wet squelch of my lubed-up hole every time he rams back in.
Fingers digging into my hips hard enough to leave bruises for days.
Slaps on my ass that ring through the room.
Sweat dripping off his chest onto my back.
The creak of the bed frame begging for mercy.
My fists bunched in the sheets. Curses and gasps and choked-off sobs.
The taste of his spit still on my tongue.
The ache in my jaw from clenching it. The burn in my thighs from holding this position.
The delicious throb in my ass as he hits that spot, again and again, over and over, until I can’t tell one thrust from the next.
“I can’t,” I sob into the mattress. “I can’t hold it, Dominic. I’m gonna burst.”
“Not yet,” he growls, wrapping a fist in my hair and pulling my head back. “I’m not done with you.”
He drapes himself over my back, his chest slick with sweat against my skin, and keeps fucking me. His mouth right next to my ear. “You already came in your pants once today just from sucking me off. You’re not getting another one that easy.”
“That’s your fault,” I gasp. “You have no idea what you do to me. You’re fucking perfect. The perfect cock. The perfect body. The perfect man.”
He lets out a breathless laugh, but it’s tight. Strained. He’s close, too. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere. Begging might.”
“Please,” I sob, not even knowing what I’m begging for at this point. For him to stop, or for him to never, ever stop. “Please, please, please.”
“You know what,” he says, his voice ragged against my ear, “I changed my mind. You’ve been such a good boy for me. I think you’ve earned it.”
He reaches under me and wraps his hand around my cock. My whole body seizes. His fist tightens, strokes once, twice, and everything goes molten. I crane my neck back, grab him by the hair, and before I know what I’m doing, my mouth is on his.
He stills, buried to the hilt, cock pulsing inside me.
Then his lips part. And he kisses me back.