Then his fingers are gone. I stay still, shaking and panting, as he grabs the condom. I hear the soft pop of a button being undone, the hiss of a zip being opened. He picks up the lube again, putting it back seconds later. He takes hold of my hips. The head of his cock pushes against my entrance. He pauses. I long to thrust back, but I know I’m not allowed. I want him in me. Now.
He shoves his cock inside me hard and fast. I gasp at the initial sting. My muscles go haywire around his length, clenching and unclenching. I knew he was big from when he fucked my mouth, but my arse is tighter.
“Oh fuck, you feel good, imp.”
I grin at the name he’s chosen for now. I wouldn’t normally consider myself a bratty sub, but it fits right now. I was naughty, going to the party, and I did make it clear I wanted him this morning.
He grunts as he slams into me. He’s barely pushed his trousers down at all. The fabric grazes across the back of my thighs with every hard thrust. He keeps one hand on my hip, but the other wraps around my throat. I tip my head back, arching my back so he can slam deeper inside me. His cock grazes over my prostate every time he ploughs into me. My arse keeps clenching around him. There’s pain, but it’s electrifying.
“More,” I beg. “Fuck me harder, Sir,please.”
He obliges, even though I didn't think it was possible. He's smashing into me so hard and fast I can't think straight. I have to brace myself so the force of his hips doesn't slam mine into the cupboards. My arms and legs are shaking. My cock is desperately hard, and oh fuck, I want to come. I hold it back. I want to last until he comes inside me.
Hamish Cameron is fucking me in his kitchen. My heart is giddy with how crazy this is.
He presses his lips to the back of my neck, kissing me. His breath is damp on my skin.
“You’re so hot,” he whispers. “So tight. I love slamming my cock into your tight arse.”
“It feels so good,” I gasp. “You feel so good, Sir. Oh!” I bite down on my lip to stop my orgasm from crashing over me.
How the fuck is he able to last so long?
“I dreamt about you doing this,” I manage to grate out.
“Me fucking you in the kitchen?”
I laugh. “And your office.”
He chuckles against my skin and fucks me faster. “We’ll do that too. I’ll fuck you everywhere in the house.”
“Tonight?” I squeak.
He laughs harder. Without warning, his pace changes. He pumps two long, deep thrusts into me and then lets out a long, sexy groan. I let myself come, shaking as cum spurts from my cock onto the worktop and the splashback. My knees buckle. Hamish’s arms wrap around me in a bear hug, and he lowers me to the floor. His cock is still inside me, throbbing with the last of his release. I laugh, giddy, and he kisses my neck over and over.
“That was so good, Sir.”
He holds me close against his chest until I stop shaking and laughing. Then he slips his cock out of me. Somehow he gets me to my feet and props me up against the counter. He gets a clean cloth from the drawer, makes it wet, and uses it to clean my cock. He turns me around and wipes my arse. I'm the best kind of sore. He pulls my boxers up, then my trousers before turning me and fastening them up. He removes his condom next, ties it up, and throws it into the bin. He gets a different cloth and wipes his cock before cleaning the counter and the splashback. He throws both cloths into a small laundry bin, washes and dries his hands. Then he takes my hand and leads me out of the kitchen.
I follow, legs shaking as he takes me upstairs to the first floor and into a ginormous bedroom. The room is carpeted. Like the room below, this one has full-height windows, providing a spectacular view of the countryside. There's a huge built-in wardrobe with frosted glass doors. The bed is massive too. I'm not sure what size it is other than bigger than any bed I've ever seen.
“Shoes off.”
I do as I’m told.
“Get into the bed.”
I glance at my clothes and his but obey nonetheless. He crawls in beside me, tucking us both in.
“I like this bit the most,” he says. “The quiet after the fun.”
I shouldn’t be surprised, considering how long he held me for on Friday night, but I am. Maybe it’s because this morning there was no cuddling after I’d gone done on my knees to suck him off or because he was such a vigorous lover downstairs.
“I like cuddling too,” I say.
I snuggle against his chest. I wish he were naked. I want to feel his chest hair tickling my cheek. I remind myself to be grateful for everything I’ve got. I don’t know if this crazy, frantic thing we’ve started is going to last, so I’ll savour every second. He strokes my shoulder. He’s silent. He has no kind words for me, but everything about his embrace and touch is tender.
“It was good for you?” he asks just as I’m about to drift off to sleep.
