Chapter 3 #4
“Is that vodka?” I asked. Because why not make casual conversation while prepping to impale myself on a Barney-colored traffic cone while my boyfriend watched? Totally normal.
He looked at the glass as if just noticing it. “Belvedere, I think.”
I nodded like I knew what the fuck that was. My parents’ church had served grape juice for communion. Never mind that Jesus had turned water into wine so his followers could party at a wedding.
Not that the vodka would do much for Jesse.
As I’d learned early on, it took a lot of alcohol to get a werewolf drunk.
He and I drank beer on occasion, and he usually pulled out a bottle of wine when he got extra fancy in the kitchen, but any buzz wore off within minutes.
Which meant he was stone cold sober as he watched me stare down at the dildo.
It was really purple.
Jesse regarded me over the rim of his glass, one dark brow inching upward. He knew I was stalling.
Taking a deep breath, I turned and lowered myself onto the tip, letting it nestle against my hole. With a slow exhale, I sank down. The slick silicone stretched me, setting off a familiar burn.
Jesse sipped his drink and watched.
Another deep breath. A little bit lower.
The burn spread…and then slid into the first hints of pleasure.
I leaned into it, rocking a little. Rising and then sinking back down.
My thighs ached, my muscles quivering as I eased into a squat.
The burn started up again, and my erection flagged.
I inhaled, shifting my hips as I took more.
The dildo’s fat head slipped past my ring, wrenching a grunt from my throat.
I exhaled and lowered myself another inch, then another until the head grazed my gland.
Hot, silky pleasure shot through me. “Yeah,” I muttered, sinking into a shallow bobbing rhythm. My cock bobbed with me, and I met Jesse’s glowing yellow gaze. “Can I touch myself?”
“You may not,” he said.
Fucking grammar nerd. Gritting my teeth, I braced my hands on my thighs. But it didn’t help much. The soft, slick sound of the lube soaking my ass drifted in the air.
Jesse took another drink, ice shifting in his glass.
“You could touch me,” I said. It wasn’t like he was doing anything else.
He appeared to consider it. “I could,” he said slowly, “but as you proved earlier, you don’t need my help.”
Surprise tripped through me, interrupting my rhythm. “This is about Sterling?”
“You deemed yourself experienced enough to take on one of the most powerful witches in the world despite my warning. Certainly, you can handle opening yourself.” Jesse gestured with his glass. “Enough talk, Caleb. Ride it. I want to see.”
“I’d rather ride you.”
“When you’ve earned it.”
Fine. He wanted a show? I’d give him one.
I rolled my hips and committed, breathing my way through the stretch and sting.
Drawing on every wall squat and crab walk Coach Gannon had put me through, I squeezed my abs and settled into a rhythm of swaying dips.
The dildo pushed deeper. My ass stretched, and my eyes watered.
But I kept going, bucking and grinding and taking the toy inch by inch.
Then I took it some more, sinking down until I thought the head might punch into my throat.
At last, the slick silicone balls pressed flat against my skin.
I was fully seated, my walls stretched tight around the shaft.
I stayed there a moment, muscles quivering, trying to remember how breathing worked.
Then I locked eyes with Jesse and began to move.
The dildo’s head dragged over my prostate, sending ribbons of pleasure fluttering through my veins.
My erection roared back, my cock bouncing with my movements.
The last of the burn fled, replaced with heat and pressure that built like lava surging under a volcano.
Which, yeah, felt about right because I was gonna fucking blow. I tipped my head back and moaned.
Ice clinked, and a wicked smile spread in my mind. Forget the show. I was going to make Jesse van der Meer squirm.
“Yeah,” I gasped, arching my spine and bouncing faster.
“Fuck, yeah.” My thighs shook, my quads screaming.
Sweat beaded my forehead. A rivulet streaked down my spine.
But I kept going, fucking the dildo over and over.
The thick squelch of lube joined my gasps and grunts.
My cock kept time like a conductor’s baton.
Lightning flashed. The rain picked up, pummeling the roof. I took the dildo deeper. Faster. My panting moans filled the room, rising over the sound of the rain.
Jesse watched everything with eyes the color of the sun.
“Please,” I said, bouncing. “Please, Jesse. Your dick will feel so much better.”
His nostrils flared. He set down his glass and stood. Three strides and his hands were on my hips, lifting me off the dildo. The room tilted, then I was over his shoulder, his arm clamped across the backs of my thighs and the floor swinging past my face.
“Fuck,” I whimpered, blood rushing to my head.
He tightened his grip as he started up the stairs. “Exactly.”