15. Sullivan #2
I exhale again. I need to fucking relax.
He hands me the lube, and I lower my ass to his thighs, sitting back and trying to get a hold of my emotions.
My desire. My past. Not that I want to think about it right this second, but it can’t really be helped.
Every time I’ve been fucked by Quinn, I’ve started off on all fours, and then eventually wound up flat on my face being fucked into the mattress.
Quinn is rough and fast like a jackhammer.
He’s never hurt me—not any more than what I figure is normal, but he’s never given me an ounce of pleasure either.
I don’t know if it’s because he’s bad at sex, or he just doesn’t give a fuck about me, but I imagine it’s a little or a lot of both.
I think the first time, I might have fucked Knight like that, and that thought is almost worse than my brain trying to crowd out the vision of this beautiful quarterback beneath me with memories of all the times I’ve been raped.
My hand freezes mid squeeze on the bottle.
Wait.
Raped?
Rape?
“Hey,” Knight says softly, his hand lightly circling my wrist. “Hey.” He’s louder the second time. “Are you okay?”
I nod quickly, unfreezing myself and squeezing some lube onto my palm. “All good.” I even sound like I’m lying.
“Hang on—” he starts.
I don’t hang on. I wrap my hand around his erection and make it as slick and slippery as possible. He trembles and groans before I say, “I need you inside me. Right fucking now.”
His back arches, his dick sliding through my grip. “Then get me inside you.”
I waste zero time. Lifting onto my knees, I move his cockhead to my hole, rubbing it against the rim exactly two times before I hold my breath, bear down, and force myself onto his crown.
We both cry out as it happens—me because it fucking burns, and I’ve literally had no prep, and him because—well I guess it’s his dick’s first time in anything besides a hand or mouth.
Also, it feels really fucking good. Intense and electric.
With his cock secured an inch into my hole, I let go of it and put my hands on his massive pecs.
My thighs tremble as I hold myself in the awkward hover.
When my eyes meet Knight’s, he doesn’t say anything, but it’s almost like I hear his voice anyway. I’ve got you.
I don’t look away. Don’t get me wrong, I want to.
Fuck knows what kind of faces I’m making as I adjust to the thickness stretching me wide open.
It’s a whole fucking process as I clench then force myself to unclench, lower myself slightly, then retreat because it’s too soon, and my hole’s not ready.
All the while we keep our eyes on each other. He’s breathing in this controlled, deliberate way, and I find myself mimicking it. “Please don’t come yet,” I end up whispering.
He huffs, half a smile quirking his mouth. “Okay.”
“Are you like really close?”
“I’m good,” he says.
I nod and manage to drop another inch or so without immediately pushing up again. I allow this additional acreage of his to settle in and prop me open to take more. But the next inch—Jesus Christ. “Oh shit…”
“Mmm…”
It’s a struggle to keep my eyes open as a deep pleasure throbs through me.
I work the spot again and again until I’m sweating, aching, and leaking onto Knight’s glistening abs.
I’ve got his pecs in my fists now, nails dug in and leaving marks on him as I shudder mindlessly from the intense pressure on my prostate.
Knight’s breathing has picked up, and his lids are hooded. He’s got his hands on my thighs, and they’re rubbing, increasingly restless. “I need…” he pants. “I need to fuck you now.”
Say less.
I grab him by the shoulders and yank. “Come here.”
He crunches up again, his arms wrapping around my back as I sink all the way onto his lap. He bottoms out in my ass. Our mouths meet in a wet, open kiss as we both start to move.
Putting one hand on his face and locking my other arm around his shoulders, I use the bounce of the inflated mattress to do exactly what he asked for. I ride him.
As threatened, he touches me in every place he can reach. My overstretched ass, my sides, my armpits, my knees, and eventually, he works a hand between us to take hold of my cock.
I moan helplessly into his mouth at that, and I get a grunt for it.
He’s working hard for this, but so am I.
We’re both dripping sweat and breathing heavily.
Between forceful kisses and all the groping, he winds up on his back again.
I follow him down, but the resulting change in angle takes all that perfect pressure off my prostate, and I need to lean back and find that again.
I don’t find it until my hands are on his thighs, but when I do, I groan like I’ve been wounded. “There,” I manage to say. “Fuck me right there.”
Like always, Knight does exactly what I ask. His thighs bunch beneath my palms, and he gets the bed bouncing again. He holds onto my waist, his hands spanning huge swaths of my skin as he pounds up into me, and I work the angle like I might die if I get it wrong.
This, I think randomly, is also like finding a perfect harmonic.
I mean, normally I don’t struggle so much with locating where my finger needs to be on a violin neck to get the note, but now and then the right one will momentarily elude me.
Still, this spot—this fit—this angle—I’m crazed for it.
So maybe I’m bad at sex. Selfish and one note. Boring.
But Knight’s really grunting now, and I remind myself to look at him. He glances up from my bouncing dick, and our gazes lock again. “Is this okay?” I ask, with barely any breath in my lungs to make words.
“I’m gonna come soon. What can I do?”
“Come,” I tell him. He looks strung out as hell.
“I want you to come with me.”
Oh, God. He shouldn’t want that. And I shouldn’t want that, either. But yeah. I mean, I guess…maybe yeah…that could be cool. Convenient.
I moan, imagining it, feeling him burst inside me as I let go and come all over that chiseled, tanned eight pack, our sounds co-mingling as we crest the wave of this pleasure together.
“Fuck…Sullivan…I’m…I can’t…unhhh…”
It doesn’t matter. Nothing fucking matters except for the fact that I’m about to come, too, in some way I didn’t even know was possible.
Adding to that, Knight wraps a hand around my dick and jerks it as rapidly as he’s pounding my ass to take him across the finish line. It’s—I don’t know—explosive? Epic? Everyfuckingthing.
“Oh god. Oh fucking god,” he shouts.
I feel it. I feel the spasm of his cock inside my hole.
I feel the squelch of all the cum he shoots and the heat—oh shit.
I feel everything. Claimed. Exactly the way I wanted to be, and I’m losing it.
Melting down. My body goes through something like an implosion, and my dick shoots cum all the way to Knight’s breastbone.
It’s a nearly terrifying feeling, like jumping from a plane or—I don’t know—walking out on stage to perform at the Lincoln Center. Exhilarating and also annihilating.
I curl forward, getting all that delicious pressure off my prostate because it’s too fucking much, and I push Knight’s hand off my cock because I can’t stand it anymore.
He’s trembling still, groaning…still, and I feel one final thump of his dick in my ass before the first trickle of his cum slips out.
“Oh my god,” I gasp.
Something like a minute of heavy breathing passes while I stare at the stripes of cum I left on him, and he does whatever he does. When I finally lift my head to look at his face again, it’s like he’s been waiting for me to notice him.
He licks his lips and exhales. “We are definitely doing that again.”