"Lift your leg," he murmurs, helping me position my ankle into one of the stirrups, then the other. The position leaves me spread open, exposed. But the sturdy design also makes me feel weirdly secure. Like I could float here forever.
"Comfortable?" His fingers trace along the straps, checking the tension.
I rock slightly and the swing moves with me, smooth and controlled. "Yeah." I grip the support straps, alreadyimagining the possibilities. "Now fuck me like you mean it."
Zach’s eyes darken. He walks over to the nightstand, grabs a bottle of lube, pops the cap open, and then slicks up his fingers as he returns. "Spread those legs wider. I want to see the tight little hole that belongs to me."
My skin heats as I part my thighs farther. My breath hitches as his finger teases my entrance, circling slowly before pressing inside. A needy whimper escapes, and I roll my hips. "Zach . . . more."
He adds a second finger, the stretch sharper this time but no less addictive. He moves deliberately, scissoring and curling, coaxing me open. I moan, rocking my hips against his hand, desperate for more friction, my dick leaking against my stomach.
"Look at you. So greedy to be filled."
"Always." My head falls back as he brushes against my prostate. "Fuck, right there."
He begins a steady rhythm, his fingers working in and out, each thrust hitting that sweet spot inside. "Look at this ass swallowing my fingers like it just can’t get enough."
My hips move faster, riding his hand as he adds a third finger, my breath coming out in shallow pants. I'm so fucking hard, so turned on, as I clench around his fingers,trying to draw them deeper. "Zach, please. Need you inside me. Now."
“Not yet.”
He squirts more lube onto my crease, the coolness causing me to flinch. Suddenly, a fourth finger pushes inside.
My legs start trembling, my grip on the straps tightening as my abs tense. “Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.”
“Are you okay?” Zach stares at me.
I nod vigorously, unable to speak. When he stills his hand, I rock onto it, letting him know I want more.
Need more.
“Your greedy little hole’s trying to swallow my hand. Should we see how much more it can take?”
I let out a long, guttural moan that the entire dorm can probably hear. But I don’t give a fuck. They can go buy noise-cancelling headphones.
Zach starts to thrust his fingers in and out, his thumb rubbing over my balls, the wet sounds of his fingers fucking me filling the room.
“Want more?”
“Fucking hell, Oh god . . . Yes!”
He chuckles, and momentarily, I want to kick him. The thought leaves when he pushes his hand in, stretching my hole wide until it feels like I am entirely gaping.
The sound that erupts from deep in my chest is part moan, part cry. I’ve never been so full. And when he twists his hand, I scream. It’s the most intense thing I’ve ever felt.
“Merci?”
I look at him, at the way he’s studying me. He needs confirmation to know he’s not hurting me. “Good . . . I’m good.”
Zach starts pumping his hand in and out of me, the swing moving and allowing him to get deeper. My hole clenches around his wrist as I babble fuck knows what. My eyes flutter closed as my balls tingle and his knuckles rub against my inner walls.
“You're so hot inside and smooth, like velvet around my hand.”
“Zach . . . oh, fuck . . . gonna come.”
“No.” His hand stills inside me. “Not yet.”
I lift my head and open my eyes when he carefully eases out, leaving me clenching around nothing. The loss is maddening, and I whine, my body arching toward him. "Fuck me, Zach. Make me feel it."
