Cameron #3
‘Yes,” I rush out. “Yes, I feel it. God, so full. So much.”
And it is. It feels as if I’m being split open every time, like he’s ripping me apart just to have the pleasure of putting me back together again.
It’s almost as if Atticus enjoys the broken parts of me, if only because he can fix them and mold them into what he desires.
“Mm, tell me, baby. Tell me again how it feels to have my fat cock buried inside of you, owning you,” Atticus demands.
“I-it feels… it feels perfect,” I tell him. “It feels like the end of a battle hard won, a victory fought for.”
“Oh, fuck,” he groans, primal and possessive. “That’s right. We earned this. I will fight for this until I die. Forever.”
“Forever,” I choke out.
Atticus slams into me, over and over again, his hands grasping my hips in a punishing grip. My body rocks with the force, my prostate singing every time he shoves against it.
Pleasure is lighting up my body, building in the base of my spine and drawing my balls up tight and aching. But I can’t come—not until he tells me to. Not until he commands it.
“Atticus,” I whimper. “Need to come.”
“No,” he replies quickly, reaching around to take the base of my shaft in his hand, squeezing roughly. “Not yet, sweetheart.”
“Oh, fuuuuuuck,” I cry.
“Just a bit longer. Be good and let me feel you for just a bit—”
Atticus runs a hand down my spine, reaching down until he’s tracing my stretched rim with his fingertips. And it doesn’t matter how tightly he’s holding me or what the punishment might be; I come.
It’s a blinding, hot pleasure that rips through me and has me choking on a moan. I paint the sheets beneath me, wet and sloppy, and Atticus begins to stroke me quickly, pounding into me as he groans and milks my dick.
“Oh, Cameron. Oh, baby. You’re being so bad, coming like this. So fucking filthy. I can’t, ah fuck, I can’t stand it.” He’s falling apart from behind me, just as I’m falling apart below.
Two perfect pieces, fitting so well together as I surrender my abused, spent body to him.
As soon as I stop shooting, Atticus pulls out, flipping me on my back and shoving my thighs up as he slams back home.
“F-fuck!” I shout, my hand shooting out to feel him, where he’s connected to me. Where he’s settled so deep inside.
Atticus’s eyes are trained on where my fingertips trace the base of his dick as he slides in and out, his mouth dropping open with a filthy moan of his own.
“I’m going to fill you up,” he tells me, his sweat dripping from his forehead and onto my stomach. “I’m going to bury my come so deep inside of you that you drip for days.”
“Please,” I whine, so overstimulated and overwhelmed that all I can see, smell, or taste is him. His scent, his desire.
His hazel eyes flicker up to meet mine, a sadistic grin shaping his lips as his hips falter in rhythm. “And then I’m going to spank this ass raw for disobeying me.”
“Atticussss,” I cry, so desperate for whatever he’ll give me that the punishment sounds glorious.
He drapes his body over mine, giving me all of his weight as he plunges into me, his hands gripping my face.
“Take my come, sweetheart,” he demands, his eyes drilling into mine. “Show me how much you love belonging to me, and only me.”
My ass clenches around him, greedy for it, and he grunts, shaking above me as I feel his hot release flood my insides, coating me in him.
Atticus doesn’t take a beat. As soon as I’ve taken all of his arousal, he pulls out and grabs me, laying me over his thighs as he sits on his heels and brings his hand down, hard and stinging.
Gushes of his come leak out of me with each smack, and he takes a moment every few to push it back inside, panting with pleasure.
My dick hardens, ridiculous with its speed, and rubs hungrily against his hard muscles.
“You going to come from a few slaps?” he teases me, raining down each spanking harder and harder.
And my response? Humping against his leg like a dog, acting like the needy slut that I am in his presence.
“It’s alright,” he croons. “Come on me, baby. Take your punishment like a good boy.”
I do. I explode all over him, essentially crying with how overstimulated I am, how this pleasure skirts pain so effortlessly.
And it’s what I’ve wanted for so long—to belong to him like this—that as my tears soak into the sheets, they’re not just from the pleasure but from the realization that I have it.
I have all of him, this exact moment, for the rest of my life.
I will never be alone again. I will never be forced to make my own decisions, to handle it all by myself.
I’m so fucking safe here, so warm and cared for that it almost feels like a trick.
Almost. Because as Atticus lifts me to my knees, pressing sweet kisses to my face, I know it’s real. I know he loves me just as desperately as I love him.
I sat inside the hot throes of a fire for him, sure, but he loved me so intensely that when his body was possessed and out of his steel-like control, even the demon knew there was only one place for him to go. To belong.
That only one person on this earth would give everything, do anything, just to have him.
Me.