11. Rowan
ROWAN
I’m moaning loudly, my chin on my chest as Samson pushes his wet fingers in and out of my hole.
I’ve not come yet, but he’s teasing me, bringing me to the edge just like he enjoys doing before bringing me back down.
The water is lukewarm around my knees, the bubbles almost entirely gone, but neither of us notice.
He’s just working those thick digits in and out of me, my hips pressing back, seeking more friction.
I want his cock inside of me. I want him to come again.
He wants it too. I can see his hard length pressed up against his abdomen.
But he’s going to make me wait.
I think the next two days are going to be something else entirely.
I feel his fingers crook inside of me, and I arch back, grinding my ass against his wrist.
“Oh god, Samson. Oh god.”
He gives a small laugh, continuing to pulse his fingertips against that small bump inside of me. I’ve always been sensitive there, and he seems to relish being able to make me lose my mind over it.
When he’s done driving me crazy, he pulls back to scissor me open. I love the stretch and burn. I can’t wait for him to get inside me. More lube is worked into my ass, and I’m grateful for it. I’ve always been a bit of a size queen, but Samson’s bigger than anyone I’ve ever taken before.
I can’t fucking wait. I’m desperate for it.
I swallow so loudly my throat clicks. I need water. I need to come.
“Please, please,” I beg when he slides back in and crooks his fingers once more.
I gasp and my cock jerks between my legs, my orgasm spilling over, unable to be restrained. My eyes screw closed, my body curling inward as he works my prostate through it all. My release spills into the water before me, my cock still untouched.
It aches.
He doesn’t stop until I’m breathless, until I’m twitching from the pleasure of it. It’s only then that he pulls out of me and yanks the drain plug. I just kneel there, watching as the water disappears. Then a towel is placed around my shoulders, and I’m picked up and settled on my feet.
My legs wobble and my knees give out, my entire body sagging against Samson’s. He holds me upright, his hands pulling me against him, his hard cock against my bare stomach a tease, a promise.
His lips find mine once more and we kiss slowly, sloppily, our moans mixing as our hips grind against each other.
I feel his hand cup my bare cheek, the lube he pushed into me slipping from my hole.
He grunts his pleasure as he swirls a finger around my hole.
“So pretty,” he murmurs as he pushes one inside. “So responsive.”
I have no words. I just let my eyes flutter closed as he pushes into me slowly.
“Yes, for you. Yes,” I whisper, and he kisses me again, holding me upright as he fucks my mouth and my ass.
It goes on forever, for ages, until he finally rips his mouth from mine and spins me around, my hands landing on the counter, the towel slipping from my shoulders. I see my nakedness in the mirror, my flushed cheeks, my tangled hair.
Samson’s right behind me, his cock sliding up and down my wet crack. His wide chest rises and falls rapidly as he stares down at where his cock rubs against my hole. His eyes are hooded. Hungry.
I want him to devour me.
My fingers curl into the cool countertop, and I rise onto my tiptoes like I do in class. The position I’m trying to hit this time is very different.
Namely, getting Samson’s cock exactly where I need it.
“I’m negative,” he says quietly.
I whine in desperation. Each second that passes leaves me a little more untethered. I have no idea what he’s talking about. I’m mindless.
“You are too,” he says, and it’s not a question, more of a statement.
I nod, the realization finally hitting me. “Yes. Yes. Just take me already.”
The teasing fucker still doesn’t move. I arch up a little farther until the head of his cock snags on my rim.
Is Samson made of stone? Or just determined to make me break?
Well, two can play at this game.
I groan and pull a leg up onto the counter, bending forward. I’m splayed fully open to him now, wanton and needy. Then, I say the one word I suspect he can’t resist. “Please.”
Samson groans, running a hand down my spine. “Fuck. The things you do to me, Row.”
Then I feel it, his cockhead pushing into me, slow, careful, until I’m arching back. The sting of it, the slide.
I gasp and moan, trying to find my bearings, but it’s hard when he’s so big.
He splits me wide open.
His fingers dig into my hips, his nails poking into my skin. Our eyes meet in the mirror, and he swears under his breath as he bottoms out, his chest heaving as he tries to steady himself.
But I don’t want him steady.
For the next two days, I want him unglued.
Whatever he sees on my face has him snapping. His hips pull back and then slam relentlessly into me.
I can’t take my eyes off him. He’s so powerful all the time, but like this? Samson looks like a god. Or perhaps a demon. Whatever he is, I hope he never changes. This kind of power quenches me. I’ve been dying of thirst for so long, and now Samson is giving me what I need to survive.
The counter bites into my stomach as he fucks into me, hard and unending, our skin slapping as it meets. I do nothing but take it, my body pliable and willing, his a force to be reckoned with.
He growls and curses as I moan and plead.
Everything fades. I feel nothing but him.
He lifts me up slightly, my foot off the ground, my body sliding up the counter, my hand against the mirror as I balance myself.
He doesn’t stop. He just keeps doing, using me over and over until it’s almost unbearable.
“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he growls, and then he slams into me, holding me still as he empties himself into my ass, his body jerking slightly as he does.
My eyes close as I feel myself fill, as his cock swells and pulses inside of me. My head is completely silent.
It’s…blissful.
When Samson stops twitching, he places a kiss on my back, right between my shoulder blades. “I don’t know, Row. I think you’re the dangerous one.”
My brow furrows. I go to ask what he means, but then he’s pulling out, leaving me against the cool counter, his hands massaging my ass.
“So pretty,” he says, and then he lifts me and sets me down gently, my feet hitting the floor, my hard cock finally free.
I half expect him to pick me up and carry me to bed, but instead he drops to his knees, buries his face between my cheeks, and shoves his tongue into my dripping hole.
Any questions I might have had leave me. I can’t think about anything other than what he’s doing to me. How he’s tasting himself. What we’ve just shared.
His hand wraps around my cock, and an inarticulate scream leaves me. The sensation of being taken at both ends is almost too much.
I’ve never been taken like this, with such intensity, with such focus on me. On my pleasure.
And that’s what this is. Absolute pleasure.
My cock erupts, and I watch my release spill onto the floor, Samson’s hand loosening when I whine, his tongue slipping from me as I fight to breathe.
It’s only then that he stands and cleans me up with a warm, wet rag before picking me up and bringing me into bed.
I can barely move as he tucks the covers around me, my eyelids drooping in exhaustion.
He hovers over me. “Are you sure you want that for two days?”
I manage a soft sigh. “Yes. I am very certain.”
He looks at me long and hard, as if assessing my mental stability, but I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life.
I want that. Because not only did it feel good, not only was it the best sex I’ve ever had, but it helped me forget.
And that’s what I need.
I need to get through it in whatever way I can.
Samson doesn’t leave my side when I’m home. And aside from class and rehearsals, I make sure to be home the next two days.
I have an incentive.
He’s waiting for me, hands, fingers, tongue, and cock ready to make me come so hard I see stars.
But worse than that, he takes care of me. My dishes are done, my apartment cleaned, dinner cooked. Nugget is very well taken care of too.
He’s fed and walked and exhausted every time I arrive home.
I don’t know what to do with that, I really don’t.
It’s making me far more emotional than I should be about it. But maybe that’s because it’s just twelve hours before…
I push that thought away, slamming down on Samson’s cock as I ride him.
His hands are around my waist, his muscles bunching as he helps me rise and fall. We’ve fucked so many times in the last forty-eight hours, I really did forget what day it was.
It helps that he doesn’t let me think. The moment I arrive home from teaching a class or a practice, he has me naked, his tongue inside of me, his hand around my cock.
I’ve come more in the last two days than I thought possible. Samson is taking his task of distracting me very seriously.
Even so, my mind won’t let me forget. I saw the calendar as Samson carried me to the couch, my eyes finding it as he bent me forward and worked me open.
And now my mind keeps drifting back to the reality of my life.
But I refuse to give in. Not yet. I need another twelve hours of peace.
I need it.
I won’t survive without it.
I slam down on Samson harder, making him grunt, his hips thrusting up to meet my movements. His eyes are near feral, desperate and hungry for me, despite our many shared orgasms.
Whenever we’re together like this, the need for him doesn’t dissipate; it increases. I don’t think about the future. How it’ll feel to give this up. To give him up.
Because that’s what will happen. It always does for me.
Life doesn’t allow me to keep anything that brings me joy.
For a little while, I refuse to think about that. It joins the box full of other thoughts I won’t allow myself to explore.
Right now, I’m happy to live in denial.
We fit together perfectly. I lean forward and bring him in for a long kiss. He hasn’t denied me anything yet. I don’t think he wants to. Or maybe he doesn’t know how to.
That joins the other dangerous thoughts.