“Please,” I beg, not even knowing what I’m asking for.
“Not yet,” he says, still working me open with his fingers. “Need to make sure you’re ready. Don’t want to hurt you.”
He adds more lube, then a third finger joins the others. The stretch burns more intensely now, a mixture of pain and pleasure that has me gasping.
“Look at you,” Slade murmurs, voice rough with desire. “Spread out for me, taking my fingers so well. You were made for this, weren’t you? Made to be filled.”
I nod, beyond speech now. The fullness, the stretch, the constant stimulation of that spot inside me—it’s overwhelming in the best possible way.
When Slade suddenly withdraws his fingers, I whimper at the loss, feeling empty and desperate.
“Patience,” he says, reaching for a condom. He tears the packet open with his teeth, rolling the latex down his length. Then more lube, coating himself generously.
He positions himself between my legs, the blunt head of his cock pressing against my entrance. “Last chance to back out.”
“Don’t you dare stop now.” I lift my hips in invitation.
A smile flickers across his face—predatory, satisfied. “As you wish.”
He pushes forward, the pressure more intense than his fingers. I gasp, hands clutching at the sheets as the head of his cock breaches me.
“Breathe,” Slade reminds me, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. “Relax. Let me in.”
Inch by excruciating inch, he sinks deeper, filling me in a way I never imagined possible.
“That’s it, keep relaxing for me,” Slade murmurs.
I focus on his words rather than the burning stretch as he continues his slow, steady penetration. When he’s fully seated inside me, we both pause, adjusting to the sensation.
“Okay?” he asks, a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead betraying the effort it takes to remain still.
“Yes,” I breathe.
He begins to move then, shallow thrusts that deepen as my body accommodates him. Each stroke sends pleasure spiraling through me, especially when he shifts his angle to hit that spot inside me.
“Fuck,” I gasp, back arching. “Right…there.”
“Here?” Slade thrusts against the spot again, harder. “Like this?”
“Yes,” I moan. “Please, Slade.”
“You crave to be fucked, don’t you?” He growls, his pace increasing. “This is what you were begging for when you were flirting with her in front of me.”
He angles my hips upward as he drives into me with new intensity. Each thrust hits that spot inside me, sending electric jolts of pleasure through my entire body.
“Yes,” I gasp. “Wanted you to see. Wanted this.”
“Manipulative little tease,” he says, his voice dropping lower as he leans forward, his words a rough whisper against my ear. “This is for playing games with me earlier. For making me jealous.” He punctuates each word with a sharp thrust.
“If this is punishment, I’ll misbehave every day.”
He chuckles, teeth grazing my earlobe. His hips snap forward with new force, driving deeper, harder. The headboard crashes against the wall with each powerful thrust, and I cry out, unable to contain the sounds he pulls from me.
“Oh god—fuck—” My voice breaks as he pounds into me. The sensation builds higher and higher until I’m trembling beneath him, every nerve ending on fire.
“You like it rough, huh?” Slade’s fingers dig into my hips hard enough to leave marks. “Like feeling me claim you?”
“Yes,” I gasp, meeting him thrust for thrust. “Harder.”
