The sound of skin hitting skin mixes with our breathy fucked out moans. And while he rides me, his hand drags up my chest. He pets my sternum. I'm unable to do anything but lose my mind over how good he looks fucking himself on my dick.
He's slamming down on me, sweat dripping off his chest, ass bouncing on me with a rhythm so perfect it feels like a fucking setup from the universe.
And then he leans down. Mouth brushing against my neck. "This is what I was thinking about while Jasper was running his mouth with all that fucking bullshit." He grinds harder. "I was sitting there," he keeps going, still bouncing on me, "smiling like an idiot, pretending to listen—when all I wanted was to do this."
Smack. Down on me again. "To feel you inside me."
Again.
"To fuck myself on you until you couldn't think of anything else but me."
Help.
Help.
This shouldn't be legal. Help. Fucking help me.
This guy is so hot I want to cry. My throat's closing up, my eyes sting. This is it.
I predicted it. I'm gonna die while I'm having sex.
It's too much. It's too fucking much. How does someone look like that while fucking themselves on me? How the hell is he real? I can't stop staring. I don't want to. I reach up, and grab his dick.
As soon as I wrap my fingers around it, he moans, head falling forward.
"If you keep—" he pants, voice barely holding on, "I'm gonna cum if you don't stop."
I squeeze harder. Stroke him faster. "Do it." My voice comes out desperate. "Let it go, baby. Come on. Let it fucking fall on me." His thighs are shaking as he grinds down on me again. I keep jerking him. His rhythm's breaking.
And then I hear those sounds. Those helpless, broken moans spilling out of his throat, so fucking beautiful it hurts. It's like a melody I want to live inside forever.
He loses it. His whole body tenses above me. His cum spills out in thick, messy stripes, hitting my chest, my stomach, my neck, fucking everywhere. The sight of it, the sound of him, the feel of him tightening around me…it wrecks me.
I snap my hips up once, burying myself as deep as I can, and then I finally, finally let go. I cum hard. So hard I swear I black out for half a second.
I see stars, actual fucking stars. My back arches off the bed. My fingers dig into his beautiful thighs. My whole body shakes as I pour everything I have into him. He leans forward and scratches down my biceps. Clawing at my arms, trying to stay grounded.
His eyes squeeze shut, mouth open in a silent gasp as he rides the last waves of it.
We're both still now.
Just lying there, our chests rising and falling out of sync. His cum is cooling on my skin. I'm still buried deep inside him. Neither of us moves. Only the sound of our breathing fills the room. Rava's forehead rests against mine, eyes still shut.
"Please tell me… that after that, you don't still feel jealous."
I let out a lazy, half-crazy laugh. Brush my knuckles over his flushed cheek. "Depends," I say, breathless, grin already spreading across my face.
"If I say I do…" I thrust my hips up the slightest bit, still inside him, just enough to make him gasp.
"…does that automatically mean round two?"
His eyes fly open. His mouth drops open. He blinks like he can't believe I still have that in me. I'm grinning through the ache.
"Because in that case…" I whisper, licking my lips, "…I'm still so fucking jealous, baby."
35) The Box
Rava
