My breaths grow ragged and fast.
I lie there, suspended in time, thrashing, floating, as he stretches me open. He’s slow and careful, savoring every moan he ekes out of me and answering it with one of his own. My thoughts wander and the moans we’re making become a language of their own.
Mine sayI want you.
His answerYou’ve got me.
He doesn’t stop fingering me and sucking me until I don’t know what day it is, what my name is, where I am, or how many fingers I have up my ass. I know it’s a lot though. More than one, that’s for sure. More than two, I think, if my ragged grunting is anything to go by.
The pressure in my balls swells with each pass of his lips, each leisurely drag of his tongue, each thrust of his fingers. It amplifies and amplifies, growing unbridled and filling the whole goddamn room. The whole apartment. My entire body.
My moans take on a life of their own. Loud shouts. Chopped groans. They’re not sounds I’ve made before, and at the same time, they’re the most honest I’ve ever produced. They clenchmy abs and pull me up involuntarily, yanking me as though I’m controlled by invisible strings that bind me to him.
I grab at Connor’s hips, at his dick. Hands unsteady, grip clumsy, as I pull him toward me.
“I’m ready. Connor, I’m ready.”
He flattens me with a hand on my chest, pushing me back onto the bed. His hand warms me, burns me, and settles me at the same time. Inside, I’m racing and charging, but I’m also waiting for him. I’ve given him something. Control of me. Access to my body. Something. I’m not sure what, but whatever it is, it makes me want to let him lead.
It makes me need to let him lead.
“I’m negative,” he says.
It takes me a second to work out what he’s talking about, all thoughts of anything that isn’t his body and mine confusing and strange now.
“Me too,” I reply, voice faraway.
I reach for him again, my mind calm, my body frantic. This time, he catches my hand and laces his fingers between mine. He holds my hand, smiling down at me as he lubes his dick. I look down, and he’s swollen, a shiny slit staring straight at me. Thick and red and leaking from the tip.
I look up, and he’s kind and on fire, and more Connor than he’s ever been.
I see all those things and close my eyes. Peaceful. Safe and secure in the knowledge that he has me.
He covers me with his body, keeping my hands in his, but moving them so they’re near my head and he’s holding me down. He guides himself to my opening with his free hand, finding his target with ease, with care, with precision.
He leans down and kisses me sweetly.
Then he pushes in.
The sting is sharp this time, and the burn is blunt. A quick shock. A thick shove that forces me open. My ass convulses. My mind opens. There’s a quick back and forth. A muscle that usually clenches rapidly unlearning that skill. The pressure in my asshole is persistent. Firm and unyielding. A constant pressure that gradually burns through resistance. There’s a flash of pain when he breaches me. A quick gasp. A small cry.
A sting that’s red hot but short-lived. There for a second and then gone. And when it’s gone, oh, the feeling it’s replaced with. Nerve endings sing. My blood thickens. Arousal, or what I’ve thought of it as in the past, is internal. In the middle of me. It ravages me, shooting up my ass in rough, merciless jolts as Connor fucks me and kisses me so sweetly that it makes me want to cry.
It’s a thing of wonder. A marvel.
I’m here, and he’s here. Both of us are naked, and he’s inside my body. Like,inside, inside it. Deep inside me. I’m full. Full in ways I never imagined. Ways that stretch me paper-thin. Ways that make me so horny it hurts.
He looks down at me, and he’s the same as always, caring and kind. Hot and as horny as I am. His arousal is written all over his face. In his clenched teeth. In his bones. A sea-green gaze burrows into me, drilling down and showing me who Connor is when he’s stripped naked. He’s strong and gentle. A protector and a conqueror. A shield and a survivor.
An ember glows green, and his lips move. When he speaks, his voice is hoarse, frayed, and uneven. “Say I’m the first.”
“You’re the first,” I whine, and he sends a new jolt of pleasure into me.
“Say I’m the only one.”
“You’re the only one.” He sends another jolt into me. Up me. Through me. Deeper and harder than any of the jolts that came before it.
He kisses me and squeezes the hand he’s holding. He takes my other hand in his and holds that as well. Any resistance I had in my body or mind leaves me. “Tell me what it feels like.”
