I’m rendered silent once more. I bow my head as my brows climb my forehead, my jaw unhinges, and my eyes roll. IknowI’m making an ugly face, but I’m far more concerned about if we’ll find the bottom half of it once this is over. Drool spills from my mouth, but I hardly notice, even as it pools on the console.
And then, he pulls his thumb out from the tight ring of muscle, only to replace it with his middle finger, sinking it deep inside me and pressing against his cock.
I have no choice but to lose my fucking mind and dive right over the edge.
I have enough self-preservation to rest my forearm over the console, bending to bite it as I explode.
A phantom hand reaches inside my body, tears out my soul from its vessel, and rips it in two before releasing them. My vision expands until I’m looking down on the two of us, my consciousness floating in the breeze while my soul time travels, leaps across quantum planes, and dances between realities. Two parts of myself separated yet experiencing everything as one.
I’m everywhere and nowhere, slowly and all at once.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Rev!” The words spill from Dread’s mouth, slamming into me one last time before erupting, his hand on my hip squeezing tight enough to bruise while he pumps me full of cum.
I’m aware of it, and I feel it. I even hear his hoarse moans as he struggles to keep his knees from collapsing. Yet, it’s all a distant echo amongst the utter euphoria filling every crack and crevice my soul once inhabited.
Then, as sudden as the snap of a god’s fingers, I’m pulled back into my body with a staggering force, like the release of a rubber band stretched to twice its size.
It’s devastating as all the sensations flood my system—the ecstasy, my entire body violently trembling, the dull pain from biting into my arm, Dread’s bruising hold on my hip, and the burning across my backside. At some point, he must’ve removed his finger, and part of me is glad to not have the added feeling.
Because this is all… too much.
A sob bursts from my throat, and my face instantly twists as tears rush to my eyes. I’m so fucking overwhelmed by it all, yet I’d sacrifice my soul to feel this for the rest of my life.
It’s instinctive to swallow down the tears, even as a storm ravages my insides until it’s nothing more than a barren wasteland.
Gradually, the orgasm fades, though aftershocks torment me, making it nearly impossible not to twitch and jerk while groans pour out of me.
Dread grunts breathlessly as he pulls out, unleashing a waterfall of cum down the backs of my quivering thighs.
“Stay just like that, baby,” he orders breathlessly. I don’t even need to turn and look to know he’s sliding out his phone to snap a picture.
The fucker is absolutelyobsessedwith taking pictures. Except now, he uploads everything to our secret drive so I can see, too. He evenadded the ones he took before he created it, including the picture from the blow job I gave him before my father called, along with the one he took the night he left me out in a goddamn blizzard to—almost—die. Admittedly, I’ve only been brave enough to look at them one time while he wasn’t around, and my stomach bottomed out before I promptly closed it again, conflicted and thoroughly turned on.
My chest heaves and my legs quake violently. It feels like I have noodles for lungs, preventing me from inhaling properly. It’s making me dizzy as hell, so I weakly slump forward and sloppily drop my hips to the seat again, though I attempt to keep the worst of the wetness off from it.
Sweaty, shaking, and a little stunned, I cast a tired stare at Dread, who’s already fastened himself back up and appears to be slumped against the car to catch his breath. He’s trembling, too, but he doesn’t appear even a fraction as winded as I am, and, well… that’s just fucking great.
So happy for him.
After several long moments, he pushes away from the vehicle, grabs the back of his hoodie, and pulls it over his head, taking his T-shirt with it and baring his torso.
It’s March now, and while it’s not freezing cold like it was a couple of weeks ago, it’s still chilly. However, he doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest by it.
My lips part, and I’m unable to stop myself from raking my stare over his physique. Broad shoulders, thick pecs, a lean waist, perfectly sculpted abs, not to mention the intricate artwork thoughtfully placed all over his body. It’s obvious he took great care selecting the tattoos and placements, creating a masterpiece on top of another stupid fucking masterpiece.
God, I really wish the man was ugly. It’d be a hell of a lot easier if only one aspect of him was breathtaking to look at. Add in a perfect face, gorgeous eyes, his stupid pierced nose and ears, and those godforsaken eye wrinkles and dimples when he smiles, and I’m on the verge of needing a fucking ambulance.
It’s almost startling when he drops to a crouch and uses his heather gray T-shirt to clean my thighs and between my legs. Black strands fall over his forehead, concealing the emotions on his face. Meanwhile, I resume cursing him for having the absolutenerveto also possess thick,silky hair.
He should at least have a flat ass.
No one should look that perfect.
But no. He has a perfectly round, muscled bubble butt, and it’s honestly bullshit.
When Dread finishes wiping me down, he throws the balled-up shirt in the back seat, quickly pulls his hoodie back on, then settles a carefully blank stare on me, elbows propped on his knees.
Silence ticks by for several moments, and it becomes way too much to bear.
