Every movement is slow, practiced, yet tender. A circle, a drag, a gentle press that makes my spine arch and my chest heave. I feel myself melting under the weight of it, a needy mess against the counter, trembling under his worship.
“Alex—” His name spills from me like a secret I couldn’t keep. My voice ragged with need.
He groans behind me like I’ve given him permission for something sacred, his hands tighten at my spread cheeks, and his tongue thrusts deep inside me, making me whimper.
Then he keeps going.
Licking, teasing, tasting, poking, and thrusting.
Making a mess of me in every way.
I can feel myself shaking, my cock heavy and leaking, aching from the overwhelming heat and need. I don’t recognize my own voice when it comes out, it’s too wrecked, too desperate.
Alex… please,” I gasp, the words catching in my throat, trembling as they fall.
My voice is barely more than a whimper, my knees weak, legs shaking beneath me.
“Oh f–fuck…”
The ache inside me is unbearable—deep, hot, impossible to ignore.
My hand twitches, instinct pulling it from the counter, desperate to touch the throbbing ache of my cock, anything to ground me in the chaos of what I’m feeling. But before I can even wrap my fingers around myself, He growls, low and sharp, and it rumbles through me like thunder.
His mouth leaves my ass for a heartbeat.
“Don’t take your hands off that counter,” he snaps. Not harsh. But dominant. The command coils through me like lightning, and I jerk back into place, whimpering and nodding quickly, obedient and needy as I grab the counter again with a whine.
Then he’s back on me—no hesitation, no mercy.
He devours me like I’m the only thing he’s ever wanted, his tongue stroking and circling my hole, exploring places I never knew could feel this way.
I arch helplessly, my body trembling against the marble counter, my sounds incoherent, broken, desperate. I’m panting, moaning, and begging when, finally, he takes pity on me and one of his hands slides between my thighs, making me open my legs wider. Then I feel him wrap around me, that strong hand wrapping around my stiff, leaking cock, and then he strokes once..
“Y-yes,” I cry out, the pleasure unbearable. “Please… don’t stop—don’t stop…”
He doesn’t.
His mouth and hand work in perfect, devastating rhythm, his strokes timed with the hungry push of his tongue— once, twice, three times, and on the fourth stroke and thrust of his tongue against my hole, my orgasm hits me so hard that it crashes through me like a bolt. White-hot and violent.
I feel my hole clench his tongue as thick spurts of cum leave my cock mercilessly, his name rips from my throat as I come hard and trembling so badly I nearly collapse forward onto the counter. My legs quake, my chest heaves, and I swear I can’t see straight.
I’m so lost in the haze of my release, so adrift in the crashing waves of it, that I don’t even notice when his tongue and hands leave me and when he rises to stand behind me.
But I feel it when his arms come around me.
Strong. Solid. Holding.
He pulls me up gently, guiding my trembling body until my back presses against his chest. My breath still comes in soft, staggering pants, and in the mirror in front of me, I barely recognize myself.
Flushed skin. Kiss-bitten lips. Eyes glassy with pleasure.
I look undone. Wrecked.
And yet, Alex is staring at me in the mirror like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
His eyes don’t roam with lust. They linger. In awe. In hunger. In something deeper, I don’t yet know how to name.
He leans down and presses a kiss to the side of my head, then my cheek, then the place where my neck meets my shoulder, each one soft, reverent, like a vow.
