Chapter 34 Colorblind #4
“Rub up on it if that’s what you need.
“Whatever makes you feel good,
“I’m right here.
“Let yourself want this too—I know you do.”
He shakes his head, wetting his bottom lip.
“I just… I want you close, angel.
“I need you close.
“Not pacing. Not leaving. Just… here.”
He hauls me back with both hands under my thighs, done being patient.
And I let him.
I’m out of my fucking mind,
and back in his lap,
straddling him wide, thighs soaked,
every inch of me vibrating for him.
I grip the back of his neck,
and the second I feel him against my slit,
I glance down between us at his cock.
It's leaking, twitching for me,
hot enough to melt steel.
He breathes into me. “Condom’s in my bathroom,” he spills out with his next breath. “I ain’t ever gone raw before, but you have me however you want me, I’m yours.”
I shake my head. “I wanna feel you. All of you. Just skin.” I breathe deep, lungs rattling. “I’m clean and covered. But it’s not just about me.”
I pull back enough to meet his eyes.
“It’s both of us.
“So you tell me if you need it.
“I’m good either way,
“but I wanna do this together.”
He brushes my hair back, then kisses me.
“Fuck—Il modo in cui tieni a me…
“The way you give a shit about me—it kills me. Every fuckin’ time, it kills me. Gets right under my fuckin’ skin.”
He touches his forehead to mine.
“Yeah, okay. No condom. Just skin.”
I reach down between us,
my fingers curling around his cock.
His stare’s stuck on where I’ve got him gripped, chest rising up, jaw flexing. Like I just took his heart out and wrapped my hand around that instead.
His hand leaves my hip, finds my hand—the one on his cock.
He covers it, his fingers over my knuckles,
needing the proof, that I’m here, holding him.
He needs to feel me feeling him.
“You run this. You got full fuckin’ control.” His gaze crawls back up to mine, eyes red-rimmed and blown with a fucked-out stare. “You feel good? All I fuckin’ care about. You feelin’ good makes me feel good.”
He grins.
“Swear to God—I won’t even fuckin’ move—”
I shove him onto his back,
and he’s pulling me down with him,
a laugh cracking out of him and crashing into my mouth.
He lays there,
his cock in my hand,
his heart in his eyes,
as I drag my pussy up the length of him,
sliding over the thick ridge, slow and soaking.
‘Til the head catches under my clit.
I grind against it, every nerve lighting up from my pussy to my throat.
My head falls forward with a gasp,
but Andrew’s there,
mouth catching mine in a wet, shaking moan.
With each slow grind,
everything turns up louder and louder.
His mouth breaks, eyes falling between us,
fingers drowning in my hair,
yanking at the roots,
breath shuddering out of him
as if he can’t take it.
His cock’s drenched in me,
the head flushed and throbbing.
I press harder with a long grind,
and his abs flex between my thighs.
“Angel—Christ—the fuck you doin’ to me?”
Another groan leaves him.
He lifts up on one elbow, forehead to mine,
hand at the back of my neck,
his breathing’s a mess.
His eyes drop, watching me grind into him.
Hotter. Harder. Deeper. Wetter.
“Jesus fuck—gonna fuckin’ lose it—you feel too fuckin’ good—”
Then his head tips back, neck exposed.
I kiss his throat, open-mouthed.
I’m soaking and aching and on fire—
I can feel it climbing.
He’s dripping and shaking and gone—
I can feel it coming.
And all I can think is—not like this.
It’s not enough.
I need him full, I need him deep.
The only enough will be him buried inside me.
I drop my head to his and grip his cock tight.
He’s drenched and fuck-weighted and Mine.
I guide the tip of him to my opening.
Hover right at the edge. Lined up.
“Don’t move,” I say.
“I’m not movin’.”
“Don’t move—”
A breath punches out of him.
“Madò, baby… I ain’t fuckin’ movin’.”
But it’s my grip that won’t move.
My hips won’t drop.
It’s all mental.
Like piercing your own ear,
your body flinches before it hurts.
I need him to do it.
“Drew.”
His eyes fall to my hand,
to where I’m lining him up.
Then he’s propping himself higher.
“C’mere, c’mere. Kiss me.
“Just… kiss me for a sec.”
He guides my mouth to his
as he sits all the way up—
and kisses me
slow.
My grip on him slides off.
He takes over, lines himself up,
the thick tip dragging over my opening.
Then he pushes the head inside me—
just the head.
And the brutal stretch
punches the air from my lungs.
“Shit—”
I lift up from the burn,
remembering why I like small dicks,
remembering why I got a contract,
rules, doors, walls, guards, exit strategies.
Andrew draws me back.
“Don’t run. C’mere—right fuckin’ here,”
he cups the back of my neck,
brushing his nose to my nose,
eyes drifting between mine.
“You want me?” he whispers. “‘Cause I do. I fuckin' do, Sonny. I want you. Not just tonight—I want you all the time. So fuckin’ bad it makes me sick.” His hand cups the side of my face, makes me focus on him. “Tell me you want this for us. That you want me too. I need to hear it.”
I want to say yes, but my lungs are burning,
my chest stuck.
And I’m scared.
I don’t know why. But I am.
“That breath you’re holding?” His thumb grazes my bottom lip. “Let it go, baby. I’m not goin’ anywhere. I’m right here. You fuckin’ got me.”
He doesn’t get it.
It’s not just sex. It’s surrender.
It’s walking straight into open water
with an anchor in my lungs—
no raft, no lifejacket, no idea how to swim.
Not knowing if it’ll hurt.
If I’ll shut down, go corpse-still.
If I’ll leave myself behind,
or make it back to shore.
If I’ll throw up afterward.
And then it’s still walking against the current.
Terrified.
Diving in anyway.
Hoping I float.
Willing to drown.
And my heart’s wrapping both arms around the moment, refusing to let it go, even if it kills her, whispering—Fuck the air, I’ll breathe him.
And then I say it—
"Ti voglio tanto, Andrew."
I want you so much, Andrew...
And the second it leaves my lips,
his gaze sinks into me, relieved and ruined.
The whole world stops behind his eyes.
Even his stare holds its breath
with that stupid, undone look on his face.
Across his skin, goosebumps flare fast.
Then the corner of his mouth kicks up,
trying not to lose it completely.
"Fuck—c'mere, baby."
He touches my face, pulling me in.
And then he’s kissing me,
won’t stop kissing me,
all while his hips lift,
his cock pressing up into me,
pushing deeper
like it’s the only place he belongs.
The tip punches through and burns,
thick and breath-stealing.
It’s a stretch that stings
and begs
and splits my lungs before it gives.
A hot tear rolls down my cheek from it.
My nails are digging into his back,
my other hand fisting his hair.
He keeps pressing inside me,
kissing me in a slow grind,
tongue heavy, lips slick with heat.
His hand leaves the base of his cock,
thumb sliding up to my clit.
Then comes the dizzy, helpless melt
as my body opens to let him in.
He sinks in steady,
sinks in cruel,
a long, dragging push,
and a groan tears from his throat.
Then he bottoms out.
Buried.
Filling me.
Every inch.
And we both just fall apart—
mouths slack, kiss slipping away,
like we’ve both been hit.
“Christ—” His voice cuts out.
“You’re fuckin’ takin all of me so tight—”
He stops, breath panting.
Then his gaze’s ripping across my face,
making sure I’m still with him.
“You okay? You good?"
He wipes under my eye.
"Say it’s good, or I swear I’ll lose my fuckin’ mind.”
“Yeah,” I breathe. “I’m good. I think.”
He kisses me,
his rasp breaking apart on my lips—
“Baby—fuck—I don’t come this fast. Ever.
“But you? Got me by the fuckin’ throat.
“I’m gone. ‘Cause of you. Only you.” He swallows hard, panting. “Tell me, pull out, or inside? Say it now.” Then he groans, shaking his head. “Nah, I can’t leave. Please, let me stay. Let me come inside you, baby.”
His face—those eyes, his fucking mouth—he’s undone.
And I want all of him pressed so deep into me
that I feel him when he’s gone.
“Stay. I want you to stay. Don’t pull out—”
His gaze sinks right into me,
full-body exhale, all in.
Then there’s a second—
just one—
where neither of us moves.
Our breaths beat against each other.
Then he kisses me, gripping my hips tight,
fingers digging into the skin,
pressing me down against him,
grounding himself deeper inside me.
His lips part, about to say my name,
but all he gets out is:
“Fff—” before his whole body shudders.
A guttural sound in his chest.
And then his head drops to my shoulder,
coming hard, deep, spilling hot and shaking.
“Fuck,” he breathes into my skin,
chest heaving.
His head moves to my neck,
breath punching my collarbone.
“Stay here—right here. Just gimme a sec—”
And those seconds stretch.
Each one hammers through his chest
and crashes into mine,
his heartbeat frantic,
breath too shallow and shredded to catch.
“Lasted less than ten seconds,” I say,
dragging my fingers up into his scalp,
Then shrug.
“Thought Jersey boys had more stamina.”
He growls, buries his mouth in my throat,
threatening to bite it.
“Don’t start,” he says, ragged.
“You know what you fuckin’ do to me.”
He exhales, laugh caught inside it,
unable to separate the two.
“And now you’re squeezin’ me like you’ll fight me if I pull out.”
“Mhm.” I smirk to smother the real smile behind it. “So what now?”
I tip my head, innocent.
“We just sit here? No movin’? No strokin’?”
He lifts his head,
and his expression is half-fucked, half-blissed.
Then he grabs my ass with both hands,
reminding me he’s still inside me,
lips creeping slow into a smirk.
“I’m buried six and a half inches deep in the best fuckin’ thing I ever felt, and you want me to move?”
“I’m just saying... you usually don’t shut up, but all I get from you is, ‘Stay here. Gimme a sec.’ Thought you were the filthy one. Where’s all that mouth now, Jersey?” My nails trace the nape of his neck. “Where's all them words?”
He cups my jaw, palm hot,