Chapter 2 #3
He pushes in.
The stretch burns, even with the oil, even after all the licking, all the slick, even when I’m so open, so eager, and so greedy.
My mouth falls open, eyes rolling back, hands fisting in the sheets as he sinks deeper.
The scent of the oil spikes again, making me salivate as I moan through the pain and the pleasure of being filled.
It’s everything I wanted—everything I remembered.
He groans above me, hips grinding forward, sinking in deeper, deeper, deeper, until he’s fully sheathed, his balls pressed heavy against me.
“Fuck,” he grits out, hands shaking on my waist. “You feel—God—tighter than I remembered.”
I can’t speak. I’m biting the sheets, fists clenched, whole body trembling as I try to adjust around him. I feel everything—the frantic pulse of my own stretched hole, the throb of his cock, the twitch of his muscles, the grinding of his hips as he starts to move.
He fucks me slow and hard. His hips roll in deep, dragging his cock out until I’m left empty and aching, only to shove back in with a thrust that punches a gasp from my lungs. His hands slide up my back, nails scratching lightly, breath hot at my neck.
“Did you miss this?”
I nod frantically, pushing back against him.
“Say it.”
“Yes— fuck. Y-yes…”
Then he fucks me harder. Wet sounds fill the room—the slap of skin, my ragged moans, his breath shattering above me. It’s a mess of oil and sweat, his cock pounding into me, punching every gasp and groan from my lungs.
“Fuck fuck! Hessou… don’t stop—”
He grabs my shoulders and wrenches me up to my knees without pulling out, driving himself even deeper. His hands lock on my waist and he slams into me, the new angle so intense my vision whites out.
“Oh God—”
I’m not even holding myself up anymore.
My body gave out long ago, and now I’m half-collapsed against him, back pressed to his chest, my head dropped on his shoulder, mouth open, panting, gasping little huh huh huh sounds with every thrust. I feel wrecked already.
Slick with sweat, my hole sloppy from the way he’s been pounding into me, thighs shaking with overstimulation, spit drying on my chin, and his cock still slamming into me from behind.
“Fuck, Hessou… fuck, I can’t—”
I can’t finish the sentence because I come.
It’s sudden, violent, my body locking up, a cry bursting out of me that’s more sob than moan.
My cock jerks, spilling across the mattress, over my own stomach.
I shake through it, twitching in his lap, ass still grinding back on his cock even as I go completely limp, everything wet, everything soaked.
“God,” Hessou growls into my ear. “You’re perfect.”
He doesn’t stop.
His hips lose rhythm, fucking into me in short, desperate thrusts.
He’s panting, muttering broken curses in French and a language I don’t know, fingers clawing at my hips, my chest. He drags his cock through the slick mess inside me, so deep I imagine he’s trying to pry apart flesh and bone to physically touch my heart.
For a delirious second, I think that would be a perfect way to die—with his cock buried in my heart, and my name dripping from his lips.
But then he pulls out.
I make a shocked, needy sound, but before I can turn, Hessou lets me go.
My limbs fold uselessly, and I collapse forward, cheek pressed into the soaked sheets. I don’t even have a moment to breathe before his hands are on me again, grabbing my hips and flipping me over as if I’m weightless.
Then he’s straddling me.
His knees press down on either side of my ribs, and I look up, blinking through sweat and hair, to see him straddling my chest, cock in his fist, hard and twitching and soaked.
His face is wild—mouth open, sweat on his temples, his golden-brown eyes staring down at me like he’s watching something sacred unfold.
“Open your mouth.”
I do it without a single thought.
Tongue out, lips slack.
He strokes himself fast, his hips twitching, and I stare up, eyes locked on his fist, on the dark, wet head of his cock. He groans, and then comes.
His cum hits my tongue first—hot, thick, and delicious. Then it splashes across my lips, my chin, my cheeks. Thick ropes of it land on my neck, my chest, pooling in the hollow of my collarbones. I moan, swallowing everything, tongue lapping blindly, greedy, filthy, and so happy.
He leans forward, bracing one hand on the headboard, the other gathering his spend from my chest and face. His fingers press to my lips, slick with his cum.
“Lick it.”
I moan around them, sucking messily, spit mixing with his taste.
My tongue swirls around his fingertips, treating them like a delicacy, like a truffle shaved over fresh cream.
He feeds me slowly, pressing deeper, dragging more of himself from my skin.
I suck his fingers clean, my moans vibrating into his hand, my throat working, eyes rolling back in my head.
“You’re obscene,” he whispers.
I pull off, cum clinging to the corner of my mouth.
“You made me this way.”
And he smiles.