The head of Taylor’s cock nudged my ass. He moved closer, one hand spreading a cheek, and I concentrated on relaxing as he pushed against my entrance. Slowly, he eased inside, pausing every few moments to let me adjust. I pressed my lips together, not wanting to make a sound, but when he pressed up against my prostate, my entire body shuddered.
“Does it feel good?” He sounded breathless.
I turned my head to the side. “What do you think?” I bit out.
He laughed, which annoyed me, because this really wasn’t the time. Slowly, he drew out then thrust in, and it felt good, and it was considerate of him to be gentle, but I soon realised that he was going at such a glacial pace, he was probably trying to drive me insane.
I backed up on him, trying to communicate what I wanted without actually having to speak.
He stifled another laugh, then thrust in so hard, my entire body shoved forward on the mattress.
“Was that too h—”
“Shut up,” I said, “and do it again.”
He kept up the pace and I dug my fingers into the sheet underneath me, feeling the sweat gather at the nape of my neck and down my back. With every thrust, my brain went momentarily blank, like my mind was being whited out. Between my legs, my cock was heavy and leaking pre-cum.
“Fuck,” he said, voice low. “I almost forgot how good this was.”
I whimpered in response.
“Tell me the truth,” he said, pushing forward, his hips flush against the curve of my ass. He stopped moving. “I feel better than a toy, don’t I?”
What the shit was he doing? I shook my hips to get him to move, but his hands landed on my sides, thumbs pressing down hard to keep me still.
“This really isn’t the time,” I managed.
“Answer me.”
“Taylor.”
He pulled out, and slowly, so slowly, pushed back in. “Did you think about me?” he murmured. “When you were playing with yourself?”
“We’re not playing twenty questions. Just shut up and go back to fucking me.”
“Iamfucking you,” he pointed out. His hands were still tight on my hips, preventing me from backing up on him. His fingers would probably leave bruises. Sex turned me crazy because I didn’t mind the idea.
“Did you think about me?” he repeated.
“I — I tried not to.” My answer was better than a straightforwardyes. At least, that’s what I tried to convince myself.
He made an approving noise and thrust in once, hard, and I had to clutch the pillow in front of me to keep myself steady.
“Do I feel better than your toy?”
“This isn’t funny.”
He pulled out slowly, stilling with just the tip left inside me. “Tell me.”
“I’m not talking about this.” Bracing myself with one forearm, I used my right hand to reach underneath myself.
Quick as a viper, Taylor snapped a hand out, pinning my wrist against the mattress. “Do I feel better?” he repeated, stretching his body over me, so I could feel the heat of his chest against my shoulder blades, his words tickling the air behind my ear.
“I — I need you to fuck me. Please.” My voice sounded alien.
“Not until you answer the question. Do I feel better?”
I tried, one last time, to wiggle my hips. Taylor flattened me with his body, forcing a gasp out of me as I was pressed into the mattress, prone, my weeping cock flat against the bedsheets. He was heavy and it toed the line between uncomfortable, and the undeniable hotness of being utterly overpowered.
