“My hands are a mess, baby. You’ll have to prep yourself, and I want to watch.”
Leaning back on my heels, I pick up the lube and click open the cap, drizzling it onto his waiting fingers and down the length of my cock.
Then I watch with rapt attention as he pulls his knees up and circles his tight hole with his middle finger. The other hand reaches for my cock, spreading the lube from base to tip.
The sight of him fingering himself is enough to send me over the edge. I feel the precum leaking from my cock while I continue to cover his skin like a canvas with thick globs of paint.
“I’m ready,” he says with a moan as he brings my cock to his hole. “Fuck me, Declan.”
Eager to be inside him, I drape my body over his, feeling the sticky paint transfer from him to me.
Wiping my paint-covered fingers across his cheek and jaw, I kiss him. He slowly opens for me as I ease myself inside, one inch at a time.
“Remember what I said last night?” I ask.
He’s tense and breathless as he shakes his head.
I work myself in more. “I told you that next time I’m inside you, you’ll be mine. Remember that?”
With a whimper, he nods. So I shove myself another inch.
“I’m inside you, Shelby. What do you think that means?”
“I’m yours,” he cries out with a whimper.
Pulling out to the head, I slam back inside as I mutter, “Say that again.”
“I’m yours,” he groans. “I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours.”
Finding his hands with mine, our palms meet, and our fingers intertwine as I pound him into the mattress. Fucking him feels like home. Both familiar and like a distant memory. I was meant to be inside of him.
We were made for each other. It’s why we fit so perfectly.
Our tongues tangle, breathing the same breath and feeling the same level of euphoria.
“I need to hear you say it again,” I moan against his lips.
“I’m yours, Declan Barclay. I always was.”
I whimper into his kiss as I fuck him faster—nearly to the point of release. But before I’m about to come, I pull out with a loud groan. Then I release his hands and move onto my knees.
“On your knees, baby,” I say, helping Colin to his front. There is paint splattered all over his chest and mine.
And as he moves to his stomach, it covers the sheets of my bed, a mess I won’t even try to get out. I’d like to keep this masterpiece forever.
With his chest on the mattress and his ass in the air, I can’t help myself as I thrust back inside of him. I’m being swept awayin this storm.
“Look at how perfect we fit together, Shakespeare.”
His hands squeeze the bedsheets in tight fists as I thrust inside of him.
“I can feel how perfect we are,” he replies in a moan.
Picking up my speed, I fuck him harder and faster, listening to the sounds he makes as I do. It’s like magic, the effect he has on me. Everything about him turns me on and drives me wild.
It’s a symphony. Like poetry. A fucking masterpiece.
He’s stroking himself hard as I pound into him, and when his arsehole tightens around me, strangling my cock, I lose it. My spine curls, and my muscles seize as the climax takes control.
