Chapter 7 #2
He takes the lube from my hand and pours some over his fingers. He strokes his dick some before reaching for me and pulling me so I fall forward, hovering above him on hands and knees. He’s acting as if he didn’t hear me, but I know he did. He must have.
Two lubed fingers slide over my entrance. On a low moan, he says, “Let’s let later be later, okay?”
“Let later be later.” Sure. Fine. I can do that.
He slides those two slippery fingers into me, pumping gently in and out. Too gently. As nice as his fingers are inside me, I’m impatient for more. So I straddle him and line up, letting gravity do the work.
“Oh fuck. Christ, you feel good. It’s been a long time since I—ohmyfuckinggaaahd.” His eyes roll back into his head. His lips part on a sharp exhale. “How are you so fucking tight?”
I rock my hips. “You know bodies are pretty elastic, right? You’re probably tight too.”
A low groan. His hips buck, making him thrust up into me. “Not like this. No way. Not possible. Guaranteed, nothing in the world feels as good as your ass. How can anything possibly feel this good?”
Why in the ever-loving fucknuts does his stupid goddamn question make my chest feel gooey and warm?
“Guess we’ll have to switch and find out next time.” Oh shit. Why did I say that? In trying to deflect the question, I’ve gone and implied this is going to happen again.
It’s what I get for trying to think when I’m fucking. What a mess.
But apparently it’s time to double down on stupidity. To avoid the way his eyes widened at my previous statement, I lean forward and I kiss him.
And oh, fuck, that’s good. They’re not the fullest lips in the land, but damned if they aren’t soft as hell. Pliant.
Rowan’s moaning and licking into my mouth like he’s having a religious experience, and his tongue tastes so sweet.
Long. So, so fucking hot. He explores my mouth like he has something to prove.
Whatever it is, I’m on board. So on board he’s got me clenching around him.
I’m feeding him filthy groans and grinding down on his dick like it’s a religious experience.
Haven’t been to church since I was a kid. For all I know, it might be.
With a heated sigh, I give in to the impulse to scrape my teeth over his lower lip and then bite down, not sure whether it’s the hiss it elicits or his low laugh that makes me want to do it again.
The laugh. You know it’s the laugh.
Shut up, inside Milo.
“Milo…” He fucks up into me, and each stroke drives me a little further out of my mind.
Some force I can’t control has me thrusting my fingers into the hair at the back of his head, tangling and pulling, exposing his throat to me because I can.
“Such a hot fucking whore. My ass fits your dick like a fucking glove, doesn’t it?
You’re fucking me so well.” I grind on him like I’m angry.
Because I fucking am. “Harder, baby. Fuck me harder. I want you beating the shit out of my prostate until I shoot all over us both.”
I’ve had a million random, nameless encounters. It’s how it has to be when you move around constantly and can’t afford attention. Or attachments. It’s mutual getting off. It’s friction.
Not…this.
It’s not the way my hips are getting battered by Rowan’s grasping fingers, his eyes trained on me, his lips wet with saliva and dented by my teeth that drive me out of my mind.
It’s not shallow, labored breaths making my crazier or the glazed look in his eyes and knowing I’m the one who put it there.
It’s not every. Single. Thrust. Hitting my spot so perfectly, I want to leave him a five-star Yelp review.
It’s not the strangled “Fuck, Milo. You want more? Ride me harder, for fuck’s sake” that I get when I bite his nipple.
Not the way he snaps his hips harder despite his words, the way his cock pulses in my ass.
Let’s not leave out the way he moans into my ear when my muscles clamp down around him and then whispers, “Fuck, I swear it’s never been this good. ”
It’s all making me crazy. Everything. But I’m helpless to stop, not when I’ve got pleasure zinging through every nerve in my body.
The pale, sexy column of his throat is begging for my hand.
I slide it over his pecs and up his throat, squeezing hard enough to make that pretty column of skin turn pink.
When his hand comes up to mine, I start to pull away, but he’s not trying to make me let go.
Instead he puts his hand over mine. Pressing. Holding.
“That’s it. I fucking own you right now, don’t I?”
I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m too sucked in by the way his eyes have gone deliciously, horrifyingly glassy.
Don’t forget you might have to kill him, Milo.
A spike of panic passes through me when I catch up with the mindless stream coming out of my mouth. I’m too close to the edge to do more than say a quick prayer that he doesn’t take any of this for more than it is.
Rowan’s eyes go wide. Then he throws his head back, pulsing inside me as he grits his teeth around a sound that’s half-pleasure, half-tortured.
Coming hard on a strangled groan, I’m so lost in riding the sensations that I take a moment to realize both my hands are on him. One of his is still on mine. His other hand is still holding my hip.
Holy hell. Nobody’s gotten me off without supplemental stroking before.
I collapse on his chest, pretending I didn’t hear what he said about this being the best fuck of his life.
Pretending I didn’t say the thing I said.
Turning my face away so he can’t see the satisfied smile I feel spreading no matter how hard I try to make it stop.
So what if we get glued together? Life is full of risks.
Earlier, he mentioned an ex. An ex he was with from a young age. Someone who probably shared all of his firsts. Except maybe that thing he breathed in my ear.
I don’t care. I shouldn’t. This thing we’re doing here means nothing.
I swear it’s never been this good.