He returned with the supplies, setting them on the coffee table before kneeling between my spread legs. The positionshould have felt vulnerable, exposed, but instead I felt safe. Protected. Like Marcus would never do anything to hurt me.
“Tell me what you need,” he said, his hands resting on my thighs. “I want to make this good for you.”
“It already is good,” I assured him, reaching down to stroke his jaw. “Just having you here, wanting this... that’s enough.” But I knew what he was asking. I reached out, grabbing a fistful of his hair. “Suck my cock and eat my ass before you fuck me.”
It wasn’t a request.
Marcus’s pupils dilated at my command, his breath catching. I watched his throat work as he swallowed, and then that beautiful man was lowering his head between my thighs without hesitation.
The first touch of his tongue against my cock made me gasp. He started at the base, dragging slowly up the underside before swirling around the head. His technique was different than the first time. It was less tentative and more confident. Almost like he’d been thinking about this, practicing in his mind what he wanted to do to me.
“Fuck, Marcus,” I breathed, my fingers tightening in his hair. “Just like that.”
He hummed in response, the vibration sending pleasure shooting up my spine. His hands gripped my thighs, holding me in place as he took me deeper. I could feel the heat of his mouth, the wet slide of his tongue, and it was almost too much. Almost, but not quite.
He worked me with single-minded focus, his eyes occasionally flicking up to meet mine. The sight of Sheriff Marcus Webb on his knees for me, his lips wrapped around my cock, was something I knew I’d never forget. Not when I went back to New York, not ever.
When he pulled off with an obscene pop, I whimpered at the loss. But then he was pressing my thighs up and back, exposing me completely, and my brain short-circuited.
“Gorgeous,” he murmured again, his breath ghosting over my most intimate places. “Everything about you is so damnperfect.”
Then his tongue was on my hole, and I forgot how to form words entirely.
He licked at me with the same thoroughness he’d shown my cock, taking his time to explore and taste my entrance. The sensation was overwhelming—his rough stubble against my sensitive skin, the wet heat of his mouth, the way his hands gripped my thighs to keep me spread wide for him.
“Oh god,” I moaned, my head falling back against the couch cushions. “Marcus,fuck?—”
He doubled his efforts, his tongue pressing inside me now, and I felt my whole body tremble. No one had ever done this to me with such reverence, such attention to detail. Most guys treated rimming like a chore, something to get through quickly before the main event. But Marcus was taking his time, savoring it, like he genuinely enjoyed reducing me to a writhing mess.
My cock was leaking steadily now, precum pooling on my stomach. I reached down to stroke myself, but Marcus grabbed my wrist, pulling my hand away.
“Not yet,” he said, his voice rough and commanding. “I’m not even close to done with you.”
The dominance in his tone made my cock throb. I nodded, letting my hand fall to the side, completely surrendering to whatever Marcus wanted to do to me.
He went back to eating me out, adding his fingers now. One slid inside easily, my body welcoming the intrusion after all his attention. Then another, stretching me, preparing me for what came next.
I was panting now, my hands gripping the couch cushions so hard I thought I might tear the leather. Every nerve ending in my body was on fire, pleasure building in waves that threatened to crash over me at any moment.
“I need you inside me,” I gasped out. “Marcus, please. I need you to fuck me.”
He pulled back, his lips swollen and glistening. The sight of him—this proper, reserved sheriff looking absolutely wrecked with desire—made my heart stutter in my chest.
“Are you sure?” he asked, even as his hands were already reaching for the condom.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” I told him, and I meant it.
I watched him roll the condom on with shaking hands, his cock thick and hard and perfect. He slicked himself up with lube, then added more to his fingers, working me open even further. The care he took, the attention he paid to making sure I was ready, made something warm bloom in my chest that I absolutely did not want to examine too closely.
“Come here,” I said, reaching for him.
He positioned himself above me, one hand braced on the back of the couch while the other guided himself to my entrance. Our eyes met, and I saw everything I was feeling reflected back at me in his gaze. Want. Need. And something deeper, something that terrified and exhilarated me in equal measure.
“Go slow,” I whispered, even though my body was screaming for him to just take me already. “You’re bigger than most.”
He nodded, pressing forward with agonizing gentleness. The head of his cock breached me slowly, and we both groaned at the sensation. He wasdefinitelybigger than the dildo I’d ridden on his desk,thicker, and the stretch was intense.
“Okay?” he asked, his voice strained with the effort of holding still.
