Chapter 20
Twenty
Closer
Ryan
OH. MY. GOD.
That’s all I can think as Spence swells inside my mouth. He’s longer than average, but it’s the girth for me. It’s so wide. Just mind-bendingly thick. I’ve had my fair share of cock, but nothing—nothing—has ever stretched my lips like this. And he’s still getting harder.
I pull off, sucking in air, my lips slick. I wipe the spit from my chin, fist Spence at the base, and look up at him through my lashes. “Jesus, Spence. ‘Beer can’ doesn’t even begin to cover it.”
He looks down at me with this slow, arrogant smirk, but it fades fast. His eyes go stormy and wild when I slap his length against my cheek, the weight of him leaving a red mark. Spence lets out a deep, animalistic sound and grabs my wrist, shoving my hand away. “Open that pretty mouth. Tongue out.”
I flutter my lashes and do as I'm told, tongue lolling.
He wastes absolutely no time, smacking the swollen head against my tongue repeatedly, coating it with his precum.
I just let him, eyes focused on his, tongue out, drooling for him.
On the final slap, he lets it rest there, heavy and hot, and I shudder at the weight.
Spence rolls up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, slow and deliberate. Then he raises a demanding brow at me.
“Suck.”
I swirl my tongue around the tip, lazy, teasing, savoring the taste of him. When his sleeves are up, he fists my hair and yanks, forcing me deeper. I clutch at his thick thighs to steady myself, moaning as I finally get to feel them—hard, solid muscle, perfect for grabbing while I deep throat him.
I knew it, I think, almost laughing around his girth. Of fucking course Spencer Stark, all thick thighs and ass, would be packing a fat dick for me to feast on.
Spence laces his hands behind my head, controlling me, dragging me down until I’m choking on him. His cock throbs at the back of my throat but I don’t gag—I just swallow around him then shake my head from side to side, making him groan.
My hands slide up, grab handfuls of his big ass, kneading the thick cheeks, pulling him even closer.
I need him closer.
I don’t think it will ever be close enough.
Spence releases my head and I fall back, coughing, spit trailing from my lips. A fat drop of precum gleams on his tip and I lap it up, filthy and eager. He barks out a laugh, shaking his head.
“Jesus. You’re a real pro, aren’t you?”
I grin, breathless. “Not my first rodeo, Spencester. You have no idea how long I’ve been craving this. Craving you.”
“Fuck,” he growls, voice rough. He grabs my jaw, tilts my head up. “Get on that chair. Now.”
I glance at the buttery soft tan leather club chair in the corner. When I look back, Spence’s eyes are nearly pitch black.
“Ass up, Ryan.”
I don’t waste a second. Scrambling over, I climb onto the seat and arch my back, offering myself up exactly how he wants. My forehead rests on my arms, draped over the chair’s headrest, anticipation coiling in my gut.
Behind me, I hear the soft rustle of Spence peeling off his dress shirt, then the whisper of fabric as he folds it and places it carefully on the bed. I have to bite my lip not to laugh. Spencer Stark: total control freak in everyday life. And, seemingly, absolute unhinged freak in the sack.
The contradiction does things to me.
A dull thump—something heavy hitting the floor. I risk a glance back over my shoulder and groan. Spence is standing there, completely naked, his cock jutting straight out, thick and proud, bouncing with every shift of his hips.
My eyes drop further, and I spot the pillow on the floor at the base of the chair for his knees. My breath stutters. Spence plans on being down there for a while, and fuck, I’m more than good with that.
CRACK!
My head jerks as his palm lands on my ass, heat blooming through my right cheek. “Fuck. Yes, Daddy!”
Spence growls, then he soothes the sting, massaging the flesh, his voice low and commanding. “Turn back around.”
I obey, face burning, heart racing. I hear him pad across the room and then I hear the faucet in the bathroom running.
When he returns, I jump slightly when I feel the wet warmth of a washcloth on my exposed hole.
Spence takes his time cleaning the lube off me from having the plug in.
I can’t see him, but I feel his eyes assessing me.
His hands roam over me—palming my ass, squeezing my thighs, tracing the lines of my lower back. I shiver when his lips press kisses to each cheek, then my thighs, then just above my ass. He’s everywhere, worshipful and greedy.
“These fucking back dimples drive me wild,” he murmurs, voice rough. “You and all your damn dimples. You know you drove me insane? Strutting around in next to nothing for months.” Another kiss, right into the hollow of each dimple. “It’s time to pay up, Ryan.”
I bury my face in my arms, rocking my forehead back and forth, barely managing, “Kay.”
I hear him drop to his knees, the hush of his skin meeting the pillow. His palms splay over my ass, then he spreads me wide, cool air ghosting over my hole.
Spence huffs, appreciative, and mutters, “You would have a pretty hole. Fucker.” I start to laugh but it fizzles into a gasp as his tongue hits me—hot, wet, relentless.
“Oh, fuuuuck,” I moan, hips rocking back into him. The things he’s doing with his mouth are probably illegal in forty-seven countries. Thank God I’m still in my jockstrap or I’d be leaking all over this stupidly expensive chair.
He resurfaces for air, voice muffled but loaded with hunger. “Damn, Ryan, I could eat this ass all. Day. Long.”
My head lifts, lips parted, “Oh God.”
His hand sneaks through my thighs, gripping my cock through the soaked pouch. “Mmm. Big boy.”
I pant, half-crazed. He shifts my jock aside, releasing my cock, pulling it back so it lines up with my hole. Then—fuck—he licks a long stripe from my tip, up to my balls, over my taint, and circles back up to my hole. He does it again. And again.
I whimper, writhing, “Spence, please.”
He just smirks and dives right back in, tongue spearing me open, feasting like it’s his last meal. He doesn’t stop—ten minutes, maybe more, devouring my ass, licking my balls, sucking my cock, worshipping every inch. I can barely think, mind wiped clean but for one persistent thought:
Jesus, this man knows how to treat a bottom.
Then he stands, using my ass for leverage, and I mourn the loss of his mouth… until the blunt head of his cock slaps against my spit-slicked hole, making me yelp.
“Where’s the lube?” he growls.
I nod to the dresser under the TV. “Right there.” He strides over, grabs the bottle, snags a magnum condom from the pile.
Hey, I was prepared for every kind of dick.
He holds it up, eyebrow cocked. “Need this?”
I shake my head, bracing myself on trembling arms, barely able to form words. “NFL. Testing. On PrEP.”
He tosses the condom aside, eyes never leaving mine. “Same. PrEP and tested regularly.”
I hum, voice thick with want. “Good. Because I want to walk out of here with you load leaking down my legs.”
Spence’s pupils blow wide, the last bit of control slipping. He grabs my hip, voice rough. “Ryan, if we go bare—as long as whatever this is lasts—you don’t touch anyone else. Got it?”
I smirk over my shoulder. “Spence?”
He grunts, “Yeah?”
I grin. “Understood. But can you please get that fat dick in me, like, immediately? I’m dying over here.”
I see Spence pop the cap on the lube and I can’t help but let out a needy, “Yesss.” I turn my head back and drape it over my arms, breath coming fast.
Cool slickness, then two of his fingers push inside me—no hesitation, just stretching me wide, scissoring me open until I’m twitching.
A third finger joins the party, plunging deep.
He knows exactly where to go, finds my spot, and starts pressing it over and over like he’s trying to rack up a high score.
My head flies back and I whine, “C’mon, Spence. Give me that broloney pony already.”
He pulls his fingers out, wipes the excess lube on my ass and mutters, “Don’t ever call it that again or you’re not getting it.”
I huff, all attitude. “Fine.”
Behind me, a metallic jingle—his belt. My heart kicks up in panic. I twist to look and blurt, “I said, fine, Spence. Please, for the love of Gaga, don’t leave.”
He just shakes his head, his voice suddenly very serious. “What’s your word?”
I blink, thrown. “Word?”
“Your safe word, Ryan. I’m not a full dominant or anything, but I can be a rough fuck. You need to be able to tell me when to stop.”
“Fuck,” I release a full-body shiver. “Could you be more perfect?” I pause, think, then, “How about Grandma?”
He grimaces. “Gross, Ryan.”
“See? It works.”
“Fine,” he sighs. “Turn around.”
I face forward, hands braced on the chair, ready for him. I barely have time to suck in a breath before, “Oh fuck!” I shout, as the thick head of his cock pops in, stretching me wide, burning in the best possible way.
“Not so cocky now, are you, ball boy?” His voice is pure sin.
I throw one hand to the wall, needing the support. “Just give me a minute, then you can move.”
Spence doesn’t answer. Instead, his hand glides up my back, into my hair, and he tugs my head back, mouth grazing my ear. “Keep your head like that.”
I obey. Then I feel the gentle thwack of leather against my ass—just a little tease. “Mmm,” I purr, already gone.
“Close your eyes,” he commands. I do, and then the cool leather wraps around my neck. The belt buckles snug, not choking, just reminding me who’s in charge.
“Good boy.” His praise makes me ache, and then—without warning—he slams all the way in. My mind blanks out. I feel everything: the fullness, the heat, the pulse of his cock inside me.
Yet somehow… I need more.
“Spence, I need you to move.”