FIFTEEN #2
Ari groans into my mouth, his grip tightening before breaking the kiss just long enough to spin me around and slam me against the nearest wall.
His palm flattens against my sternum, pinning me in place as his mouth finds mine again.
“I missed this fucking mouth,” he growls against my lips, his voice rough, his accent thicker when he’s like this.
His hands are all over me — gripping my jaw, my throat, my hips — like he’s trying to memorise me all over again.
I whimper, my cock aching at the thought of him inside me.
“Fuck—” He cuts me off with another kiss, this one slower, deeper, his tongue fucking into my mouth, his hands sliding under the waistband of my joggers, palming my arse, squeezing hard, making me moan against his lips.
“I’ve been thinking about this ass for months,” he murmurs against my lips, his fingers teasing my crack.
His fingers hook into the waistband, then he yanks them down just enough to free my cock, and the cool air hits my overheated skin, making me shudder.
His thumb swipes over the slick head and my hips jerk forward into his touch.
His mouth crashes into mine again, and I groan into it, my hands flying to his hair, yanking the tie free so his blond strands spill between my fingers.
He bites my lower lip hard, making my knees weak.
“Please,” I breathe, my voice already breaking.
I’m so fucking hard it hurts, my cock leaking, my balls heavy. “I need you.”
“Begging already, detka?” His fingers leave my cock, trailing lower, over my balls, then further back, teasing the crack of my arse again. I spread my legs wider automatically, my body already knowing what it wants.
What he wants.
His touch is light, barely there one second. Then the next, his palm smacks against my arse cheek, the sharp sting making my breathing hitch. “Get on the bed. Now.”
I don’t hesitate. I kick off my joggers the rest of the way, leaving them pooled on the floor with everything else, as I crawl backwards onto the mattress.
The low light from the lamp casts long shadows across the room, gilding Ari’s skin as he strips off his own shirt, his muscles flexing with the movement.
His cock is a thick outline in his jeans, and my mouth waters just looking at it.
But before I can reach for him, his hand tangles in my hair, yanking my head back.
“On all fours,” he orders. “Show me what’s mine.”
A shiver runs down my spine, and I obey, rolling onto my hands and knees, arching my back, presenting my arse to him.
The position and the thought of being spread open make my cock leak onto the sheets beneath me.
I hear the rustle of fabric as Ari strips behind me, then the creak of the bed as he kneels between my legs.
His hands slide up the backs of my thighs, his thumbs pressing into the muscle of my arse before spreading me wide.
He murmurs something in Russian that I don’t catch, but I don’t have time to think about it properly before I feel his breath ghosting over my skin.
His tongue drags over me slowly, and I jerk forward, a broken sound tearing from my throat.
He does it again, this time pressing deeper, the tip of his tongue circling before flicking inside.
My fingers curl into the sheets as he works me open with just his mouth — licking, sucking, teasing.
Every time I think I can’t take any more, he pulls back, making me whine.
“Ari, please—” I’m begging, my voice raw, my cock aching, my hole clenching around nothing.
He chuckles against me, the vibration making me shudder, before his tongue spears into me again, deeper this time.
My hips rock back, chasing the sensation.
His hands grip my arse cheeks, holding me still as he devours me.
The pleasure making my body tremble with the need for more.
Then he’s gone, the loss of his mouth making me groan in protest. But before I can complain, his hands are on my hips, pulling me back.
I realise what he’s doing a second before his tongue drags up the underside of my cock, hot and wet, making me jerk.
He’s lying on his back under me, my cock hovering over his lips.
His mouth engulfs the head, his lips sealing around me as he takes me deep, his throat opening around my length.
The sensation is overwhelming — his mouth on me, his fingers digging into my arse, his other hand wrapping around the base of my cock to control my movements.
“Fuck my face,” he growls, the words vibrating through me.
His hand slides between my legs, his fingers slippery with his own spit as he presses one inside me.
I moan, my hips stuttering forward before I pull back, taking his finger deeper.
The stretch burns. His finger crooks, pressing against that spot inside me that makes me shudder, and I thrust into his mouth again, my cock hitting the back of his throat.
He hums in approval around me, taking me deep again.
Another finger joins the first, stretching me wider, and I rock back onto them, fucking myself on his hand while my cock pistons in and out of his mouth.
He takes me to the base, his fingers still working in and out of me, my own broken moans and his, around my cock, as I keep fucking his face.
His free hand grips my hip, his nails digging in as he urges me to move faster.
“Come on, detka,” he taunts, pushing me off slightly, his voice rough.
“Show me how much you’ve missed me.” His fingers scissor inside me, stretching me wider, and I feel the burn of it combined with the delicious ache that promises more.
His mouth seals around my cock again, his throat fluttering as he swallows around me, and I lose it — my hips snapping forward, my fingers tangling in his hair as I fuck his face in earnest.
Every time I pull back, his fingers plunge deeper, hitting that spot inside me that makes my cock twitch. I can feel my orgasm building, coiling tight in my gut, but before I can get there, he pushes me off and his fingers slip free, making me whimper.
He grips my hips, flipping me onto my back before I can process what’s happening.
He looms over me, his lips swollen, his eyes dark with hunger.
His cock is heavy and leaking against my thigh, and I reach for it, but he bats my hand away.
Then pins my wrists above my head. His mouth crashes onto mine, his kiss bruising, his tongue sweeping in to claim me.
I can taste myself on him, the musky saltiness of my pre-cum, and it makes me even harder.
His fingers trail down my chest, over my abs, before wrapping around my cock again, stroking me slow and tight. I gasp, my hips bucking into his grip. I’m so close, so fucking close—
He lets go, but before I can protest, he flips me again onto my stomach, his weight pressing me into the mattress. His cock drags through my crack, the head pressing against my hole, and I push back, desperate to feel him inside me.
“Soon,” he promises, his teeth sinking into the back of my neck.
He lifts my arse up slightly to make enough room to slide his hand beneath me and grip my cock, stroking me in slow, maddening pulls.
His fingers press against my hole, teasing but not entering, and I groan, my hips rocking between his hand on my cock and the pressure behind me.
“Ari—” He chuckles, his breath hot against my skin.
His fingers finally push inside me again, crooking just right. My back arches, my cock throbbing in his grip. “Beg for it.”
“Please, please—” I’m babbling, my body coiled tight, my release just out of reach. His fingers fuck into me harder, his other hand working my cock at the same time, and I can feel my orgasm crashing over me.
My cock pulses in his grip as I come, my arse clenching around his fingers. My body is trembling as wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me. Ari doesn’t stop; his fingers are still buried inside me, fucking me as I ride out the last of my orgasm.
When I finally collapse, boneless and spent, he pulls his fingers free, pressing a kiss to the small of my back before shifting away. I hear the click of a cap, and I turn my head, looking over my shoulder just in time to see him, his cock thick and veined, leaking at the tip and shiny with lube.
He meets my gaze. “Ready for more, detka?”
The mattress dips under Ari’s weight as he shifts behind me.
His fingers dig into the flesh of my hips, pinning me down again before I can even think about moving.
He spreads my cheeks apart, his thumbs pressing into the softness until I’m bared to him completely.
My cock twitches against the sheets, already half-hard again despite the way he just wrung me out.
“Fuck—” The word tears out of me as the slick, broad head of his cock presses against my entrance, not pushing in, just resting there, a promise and a threat all at once.
My fingers claw into the comforter. My body is already trying to arch back, to take him, but his grip is iron. He doesn’t let me move an inch.
“Uh-uh,” he murmurs, his voice rough as gravel, his accent thickening with every syllable. “Not yet.” His free hand slides up my spine, the tip of his cock drags up and down my crack, wet with lube, teasing me open without giving me what I need.
I whimper, my thighs trembling. The ache in my hole is unbearable; the thought of him filling me makes my stomach clench. “Ari, please—”
“Tell me how much you missed me,” he says, leaning over me, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. His cock presses harder, just the tip breaching me before he pulls back, denying me again. “Tell me how many times you fucked your hand thinking about me.”