And then he whimpers. Not a growl. Not a groan or a howl. A whimper.
I pause for a second and stare at his dickhead, plump and leaking. “You’re already so close.”
“Yeah, well, with you I could come a thousand times. Hang on.” He pulls out of my mouth, but my finger stays lodged inside him as he scrambles for the nightstand drawer and the large bowl we’ve now affectionately named our “cum bucket.” Magnus offered to buy an actual bucket, but I assured him the bowl would suffice.
“Okay, let’s go.” His voice rasps with need.
He’s back, fucking my mouth while I do the same to his ass with two fingers, and when his hips shake, I brace myself for impact.
The first blast shoots right down my throat like a pinball homing in on a target. There’s no swallowing needed. It’s like the one time I did a keg stand in college. Except there’s no beer. There’s only complete ecstasy being filled by hisscorching seed.
After two more shots, he grabs the bowl, pulls out and fills it up. My hand works inside his hole, using my thumb to massage under his balls, and now he’s moaning. Each crash of his orgasm sends shivers down his spine, right to his hole spasming around my fingers.
When Magnus finishes, he rolls over on his back, panting, clutching the bowl, still rock hard. Thank you, Minotaur genetics.
“Let me take this for you.” I take the bowl and put it on the nightstand. “There. Nice and ready.”
“C’mere.” He pulls me onto his heaving chest, capturing my mouth with his, and then, because he truly is insatiable, his hand travels down to my ass.
A smile forms on my lips, and I pull away. “Now tonight, I want you to pound me from behind.”
He nods, breath slowly returning to normal. “Oh yeah, but first you have to let me get you ready.”
Get you ready. His code for rim you into next week.
I press a kiss to his chin and slide off, getting on all fours, giving him a perfect view. Magnus leans forward, hands gripping my ass, spreading me wide, and dives in like he’s been starving all day—which, with him, is basically true. His growl as he sinks in makes my shoulders quake with pleasure.
One thing I’ve learned about Magnus Trainor—besides being a sweet, cuddly teddy bear under all that CEO polish—is that he could win awards for eating ass. Or maybe it’s just my ass. Whatever the case, prepare the damn trophy.
He’s up on his knees now, leaning in, focused,determined. That long, rough tongue doing an Olympic-level gymnastics routine on my hole—tens across the board.
“Get me ready, Magnus. Open me up for your giant cock.” He shakes his head, and his tongue dances against my insides. “Fuck, I want you to split me in half.”
He backs up, and I hear him grab for the bowl, slathering me up first then attending to himself. With each breath, he huffs, almost frantic, and I smile at his eagerness.
“Okay. It’s time.”
He positions the head in place.
“For me.”
The tip enters me.
“To pound you.”
Magnus grips my hips and pulls me back. Thankfully, between the bath, the toys, and taking him in every other position the past week, I’m ready. He fills me completely, in a way I’ve never felt before. It’s not just physical—it’s like he’s claiming me. Yes, my ass belongs to him, but the rest of me comes along with it. And as we move together, I realize it’s not just pleasure; it’s bonding. Dear gods, is this what it feels like to find your mate?
He doesn’t stop, but his voice, sweeter, asks, “Does it feel good?”
“So good, Mags. Amazing. Hold up.” I reach back and place my hands on his thighs. “Pause for just a second.”
With that, he hesitates, still inside me, and I look over my shoulder at him. His brows are furrowed, and gods, he’s adorable when he’s confused.
“Let me take over.”
“Fuck yes.” He reaches down, covering one of my hands with his.
And then I move forward, linger, and slam back, hard, taking him all the way in.
