All mine.
I slide my finger in swiftly and he gasps, his body clenching my finger. I curl it inside and his eyes fall shut, his mouth forming a little o as he moans loudly. I settle my thumb beneath his opening, stroking his outer rim and spreading the lubricant there as I start to build a steady rhythm. In. Out. In. Out.
“Sloane…” he cries. “Not yet.”
I chuckle. “Oh, darling, if you want to come, come. You don’t have to wait.”
“But I want—” He gasps. “I want to feelyou.” His voice is strained. “I want to come withyouinside me, not your fucking finger.”
I groan, his petulant words like a balm to my skin.
“Don’t pout, Oliver.” I slide a second finger inside of him and he cries out, cursing. His dick bounces as he thrusts his hips upward, as he tries to fuck himself on my fingers.
“Please,” he gasps.
I lean down to his ear and whisper softly. “Are you good?”
Oliver nods feverishly.
“Yes, yes, I’m good. Just fuck me, please…”
I take his mouth with mine.
“You are so pretty when you beg,” I whisper.
I scissor my fingers a little more and he groans.
“Do you think you’re ready?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper. He kisses me, hard.
“I’m ready," he says, his voice solid and unwavering.
I remove my fingers and gaze at him. His eyes find mine.
“On your back or on your knees?” I ask, my heart racing a million miles a minute. My cock throbs with need, but I don’t dare touch myself. I can’t.
I need to save it all for him.
I want to savor every moment because I know I’ll never live it again.
Oliver’s gaze holds mine.
“You decide, Sir," he says, biting his lip.
My lips curl up in the corners as I nudge his legs apart. They fall like dominoes to the bed.
I take my time as I pour the lube onto my cock, holding his gaze as I slather my shaft with it. The touch is almost too much and I don’t prolong it. I do it only enough to make sure I’m wet enough it won’t hurt him.
Leaning over top of him, I position my cock at his entrance, my gaze finding his like a magnet. With one hand, I carefully guide myself against his hole, and press in just the slightest. Oliver’s eyes close and his body tenses, his breath hard and short.
“You good?” I ask, my breath heavy. I want to move, but I make myself stay as still as possible, waiting for his cue.
He lets out a heavy breath.
“Yes, Sir," he says, steadying his breath. “Keep going.”
I push in a little more, and he groans, and then I feel his legs wrap around me. His heels dig into my ass and hepushesme forward, the motion driving me past his tight resistance until I slide into the hilt with ease.
For a minute we are still as statues. All that can be heard is our heavy breath.
