Hard on the heels of my first-ever voluntary orgasm, I was essentially a puddle of goo on the bed. The waves of pleasure as Gage devoured me greedily with lips and tongue were deep, rather than wild. My muscles stayed utterly lax as the now-familiar feeling of a vessel being filled gradually to bursting gathered low in my belly.
Those thick fingers returned, stretching and stroking me open. This time, my climax dragged me down deep instead of blowing me open. All of my focus went internal, until I couldn’t have said where I was, or evenwhoI was.
When I surfaced this time, it was with the same feeling of clenching emptiness. Gage’s fingers were gone. I knew, on some level, that they wouldn’t have been enough to fill me, anyway.
He was sitting next to me on the edge of the bed, looking down at me with a combination of satisfaction and naked longing.
“Good?” he asked mildly.
That longing connected directly with my own aching emptiness.
“I need your cock,” I slurred.
I need your bite, I didn’t say.
His brows knitted. “Are you sure? I didn’t think you’d—”
“Ineedit,” I insisted. “Gage, please... I’m so empty inside.”
There was more than one kind of emptiness, of course. But at least this kind could be filled up by Gage’s knot.
“Fuck,” he mumbled. “Jesus fuck, Jez.”
“Please,” I repeated, in my most pathetic voice.
“You’re going to be the death of me, and you’re not even trying to kill me anymore,” he said under his breath.
Guilt pricked at me, only to be swallowed whole a moment later by the sea of endorphins sloshing around in my skull.
“Hang on, kitten.” He got up and rummaged in a dresser drawer, eventually coming up with a foil packet. “Hope these things don’t have a use-by date.”
I was pretty sure they did, and in that moment, I couldn’t have cared less.
He flopped back on the bed with the packet held between his teeth. I got enough muscles cooperating to roll over so I could watch him undo his fly and pull his underwear down. He toreopen the foil and tossed it away, rolling the condom over his massive alpha cock. It jutted up, hot and hard and girthy.
“I want you on top, beautiful,” he said, his eyes dark in the predawn light. “I’m all yours—do what feels good. You should know I ain’t gonna last long, though.”
He very deliberately reached up and clasped his hands behind his head—a silent promise not to grab or hold. I clambered clumsily over to straddle him, not sure if I should feel weird about having no hesitation over this. Gage obviously thought it might trigger some kind of PTSD episode, but it was so different than what had happened to me before that I couldn’t get the two things to line up in my head.
They were totally unrelated.
It was a bit tricky getting his length lined up. Huge peg, small hole. And, yeah, it kind of hurt when I shoved downward, forcing his hard cock into the grasping space that was begging for something to squeeze and milk. For, like, half a second.
Then it was maybe the best thing I’d ever felt.
The wavering, high-pitched cry probably came from me. The rough curse definitely came from Gage.
“All right?” he asked.
“Shut up,” I said, and started moving.
Gage was good to his word. He was still and passive beneath me, except for the quiver of leashed muscles that trembled beneath my thighs every few seconds.
I felt like a wild thing, slamming myself down on the cock inside me over and over. I threw my head back, panting through my open mouth.
“Touch your clit.” The words were choked. Desperate.
Gage was close, but so was I. I braced one hand on his muscular chest and delved between my folds with the other, rubbing roughly over my nub until a third orgasm rose upand swamped me. Gage roared, his hips jerking up in a messy rhythm as he emptied his load into the condom.
