“Is that what you want?” I asked.
His head rolled back, and he whispered toward the ceiling. “Fill me, Haru. Put yourself inside me and fill me, please.”
His tone pleaded.
It begged.
This man needed me, and I would forever give anything to make him whole.
I fumbled beneath the edge of the pallet to where we kept a small jar. One hand couldn’t open the lid, so I had to raise it before us.
His smile was immediate.
My pulse raced at the sight.
Fingers slick, I reached down and stroked him.
His whole body trembled.
“Oh, holy skies, that feels good.”
I stroked him again, thrilled at how his body tensed and eased.
Then, with my other hand, I reached between his legs and slipped a finger between his cheeks. He sat down, not giving me time to be gentle, forcing my finger inside him.
“Yes. Haru, gods yes.” He sank lower, my finger sliding in until it could go no further.
He lifted himself and then slid down again.
And again.
“Another. Give me another.”
So I did.
He winced but didn’t slow, driving me into him until two fingers filled him.
Again, he slid up and down, stretching, giving himself to my touch.
“I need more,” he begged. “Haru, please, I need all of you. Right now.”
My fingered popped free, and before I could move, his hand gripped my shaft, guiding me as he sat again. I’d barely had time to think before the tip of my cock slid inside him, and his eyes rolled back in pleasure.
“Oh, gods, you’re tight,” I said.
He pushed down, forcing me into him.
He wasn’t gentle as I would’ve been.
He shoved me in until my head struck some inner part of him that caused his body to jerk.
“Mother of light! Haru!”
Forcing himself up, I almost slipped free—but he slammed back down at the last second, shoving me in again . . . and again . . . and again.
Sweat glistened across his stomach and chest.
I reached up and gripped him, squeezed his arms and shoulders, yanked him down so I could kiss him as he rode me.
