14. Tate #3
“You make me feel like I’m someone else, Tate,” he murmurs above me. I can see his eyes so closely now, all of their sparkle, reflecting the rainy window. “You are a miracle.”
My heart thuds.
My cock throbs, all over again, for him.
“Told you not to say those things.”
“How else could I see you?” he says in his deep baritone. “You free me. And I have never, ever been free, Tate.”
He pushes another inch into me and it slides more easily now, shockingly, all at once. It’s so thick I feel like it could break me open, but my ass is stretched so much for him already that one more inch, and then another, claims me with a manageable deep ache.
“I didn’t know it could feel like this,” I utter, my voice hoarse. “That someone could take up this much of my body.”
“I know,” he whispers.
He closes the short gap between our mouths, plunging his tongue into my mouth, giving me more of his cock at the same time.
My whole body is his.
His tongue is insistent, hot and slick as it slides along mine, and I drop my jaw and moan so fucking hard into his open mouth.
He pushes more and more inside of me until I’m completely full, his base making that connection against my ass, and I realize that I have every single inch of Roman filling me up.
I can’t stop gasping into his mouth.
He groans into me, too, and I don’t think he expected me to take all of him that soon because he’s throbbing inside me at the same time.
I feel like I’ll never adjust.
It would be impossible to.
It feels so good to have him intruding in me like this, intruding in my fucking life and in my body, conquering me and possessing me like I was made just to be his toy.
His rope on my wrists feels like a goddamn hug.
His tongue plundering my mouth is a mercy, and his cock is something I would worship, every day of my life.
There is no one who feels like he does.
No one who could ever come close.
“My beauty,” he utters against me, and he pulls back a little just to give me the first true thrust, clutching at my body as my spine arches.
That spot deep inside me that other people had trouble reaching is slowly becoming Roman’s kingdom, as he works his hips in a slow rhythm, beginning to fuck into me in earnest. More blood rushes to my own cock, and now I’m hard as hell for him again, responding to Roman’s body like he’s a drug.
“I need to come,” he utters, gripping me hard. “Need to come inside you.”
“Come wherever the fuck you want. My body is yours.”
He groans as I say it and I feel his cock pulse harder inside me.
He exhales against my lips and then lifts up enough to reach for my dick, squeezing it hard as he fucks me, faster and faster.
“You were made for me,” he says. “Come for me again, baby—God, fuck—”
I feel him tense up and lose control inside me, his whole body lurching forward with the strength of his thrust as he comes.
And his face is beautiful when he unravels.
He grips my cock hard, giving it sure, rough strokes as he loses control, too, and I’m coming again, more white spurting from my tip and running down his inked knuckles.
Every part of my body is hot.
His breaths heave above me, and my lungs struggle to pull in air.
As he slowly starts to pull out of me, the sheer feeling of that much of him sliding out of my ass still feels so fucking good, like one last stroke at the end of my orgasm.
He brings a hand up and undoes each knot on my wrists and I hum.
“God, I can finally fucking touch you,” I utter, immediately moving to wrap my arms around his shoulders and pull him close.
He leans in to kiss me.
My fingers grapple all over his taut skin, and touching him is like a gift after so much deprivation. My cum is dripping all over his hand, my cock and stomach, my groin.
He takes one of my wrists in his hand, brings it to his lips, and kisses the part that’s still red.
Then he does it to the other.
I run my fingertips over his lips a moment later, and it’s still such a novelty to be able to move my hands, to touch him, to feel his mouth press a kiss to my fingertips.
“Come rinse off with me,” he murmurs. “And then I want you in my bed.”
“How are we going to get through the downstairs area without the guys seeing me like this?”
He looks at me, his eyes half-lidded. “Covered in two loads of your own cum, baby?”
“Your fault.”
“Yes. I know.”
I hum, still feeling an intense, deep ache in my ass that I know I’m going to have for days. I love it. “Wow.”
“You can put your wet shirt on over all of the cum, but I’d rather see you just walk in like this,” he says. “If they see what we did, then fucking let them. You are my little work of art, blushing and marked up and glazed.”
I let out a frustrated groan, sitting up straight on the seat. “If I didn’t just come twice I would be so hard from you saying that.”
“You are always hard for me, sweet.”
I manage to tug on my pants and I don’t put on a shirt.
We walk into the house, and I’m ready for anyone to see me.
Maybe I want them to.
Preserve this fucking fantasy for as long as I can.
The hottest night of my entire goddamn life.