Ned complies. He also pulls his legs up to his chest as soon as his back hits the mattress. Taking hold of his knees, I push them back down before draping my body over his.
He releases a blissful sigh as he accepts my weight, his arms curling up around my back.
“So you know,” I murmur, placing a line of kisses along the column of his throat. “I won’t be fucking you until I’m good and ready.” Tilting my head to one side, I suck at a single spot on his neck, stopping short of a hickey. The man does have to perform for an audience tomorrow. “I want you messy.”
He grins up at me. “I can do messy.”
My nose brushes his as I rock my hips, increasing the friction of our hard cocks rubbing together. “I want you so hungry you can’t take the emptiness inside for one more second.”
“Yes,” he croons, his hands in my hair as he matches my movements, one leg lifting to wrap around my waist.
I pause for a moment, my gaze narrowing. “Do you beg on command?”
Laughter rumbles through his chest as he shakes his head. “Where would be the fun in that?”
“Excellent.” Falling upon his mouth, I delve inside with long sweeps of my tongue.
If Ned’s desire to please me will teach him anything, it’s how much I enjoy kissing. Losing myself in my lover’s taste, drinking in their moans and sharing their breath. It heightens every other intimacy and strengthens every connection. I may not be good at sharing the shadowy sides of myself with other people. I’m essentially a private person, despite my easy smiles and multitude of friends. But this? Sharing my body and cherishing the body of another? This I’m good at.
Ned catches on quickly, throwing himself into our make out session with his trademark lack of abandon. Our hands roam each other’s bodies at will, squeezing and kneading. Nails rake and limbs tangle. The mixing of pre-come eases the way for enthusiastic frotting and we take turns gasping at every new sensation.
By the time I sink slick fingers deep into his hole, Ned is indeed a writhing mess beneath me. All sense of conscious obedience seems to have melted away beneath his striving for more. More friction, more penetration, more of my mouth on his.
“Toni,” he cries, grasping my hips as he tries to pull me into position. “Please.”
Rolling on a condom, I line myself up with his entrance, only allowing my blunt end to nudge against the tight ring of muscles. “Tell me what you want.” I use a firm tone, so he knows this is an order. I expect him to obey.
“You,” he pants. “I want you. Inside me.” His arms and legs wrap around me, like a monkey clinging to its favourite tree. I hold off, wanting him to give just a little bit more. “Fucking take me,” he cries, his hips surging upwards in demand.
It’s the sign I’ve been waiting for, the insistence hidden within his submission, and I reward him by plunging my cock deep inside his body. He keens in pleasure, and I bury my face in the crook of his neck to stifle my own groan.
“More.” Ned’s arsehole clamps tight as he shudders and bucks against me. “Take more.”
I look down into his flushed face, slick with sweat and contorted in need. Gritting my teeth, I undulate my hips in slow movements. Ned follows my lead, meeting me thrust for thrust.
“Touch yourself,” I demand, lifting my torso so he can slide his hand between us. “I want to know what you like.” With a grin, I add, “Do make a show of it.”
He returns my smile as he reaches down to take hold of his shaft, stroking himself with expert fingers.
“So sexy.” My gaze wanders over his torso and straining cock, before lifting to his face. “My very own rock star, horny for my pleasure.” Batting his hand away, I take over, stroking him with the same firm, deliberate movements he used on himself.
“Oh.” He throws his head back, his eyes closing. “Gonna come.”
“Do it.” I collapse on top of him, my hips pistoning as I lose what little control I had left. Ned’s hips jerk, forcing his cock through the tight grasp of my fist where it’s caught between us. “Come for me,” I growl in his ear.
He turns rigid, lets out a choked sound, and then wetness gushes between our bodies.
As he starts to relax, I pull out and tear off the condom to shoot my own load across his already covered stomach. Ned spreads his arms wide and arches his back in acceptance.
I fall to the mattress beside him, and we lie there, shuddering with aftershocks.
When I get up from the bed, Ned’s eyes are closed, his lips softly curved. I dispose of the condom in a plastic bag and grab my discarded shirt from the floor. It’s hardly a warm washcloth, but it will have to do. Balling up the soft cotton, I climb back onto the bed and start cleaning the come from Ned’s stomach.
He grabs hold of my wrist, stopping me. “Leave some,” he murmurs, barely opening his eyes. “You gave me your come. I want to wear it.”
My heart clenches as I toss the shirt aside and lie back down, half-draped across him. “How filthy of you.” I run two fingertips back and forth across his stomach, wetting my fingers before using them to paint his nipples. He takes a deep breath, his chest rising to my touch, before he releases it again with a hum of contentment.
Resting my head on his shoulder, I settle in against him, my eyelids heavy. My right hand lifts to play with the tether at his throat. My tether.
