“Fuck, Marco,” he whispers, his hand sliding over my cock. “Fuck, you’re already so hard for me.”
I almost whimper at his words. I’ve wanted him so badly. But I’ve wanted him likethis. No stolen moments. No threats, no anger, no ‘last time.’
He moves his hand in a sure rhythm, like he owns me.
And that’s just the thing. He does. I know it now. And he already knew it.
He pushes me back, turns me, kissing me all the while. My calves hit the bed and I stumble, landing on the mattress. But not Robin. He stands there, legs wide, lets me run my hands up his torso, his eyes locked on mine. He rips his shirt over his head. Lets me see one flooring flash of that beautiful body. Then he drops to his knees and takes my dick in his mouth.
The groan that rips out of me is indecent—too loud, too raw. But I want him.Fuck, I want him.
My cock hits the back of his throat and he growls over it, hungry, sending a too-electric shudder of pleasure all the way through me. I sink my hand into his hair, and his fingers dig sharp into my thigh.
He’s found a bruise, some dark and black injury I can’t even recall getting yesterday. But when his fingers sink in, the pain and the intensity of the pleasure he’s giving me with his mouth drive me wild.
“Fuck, birdie,” I hiss, and some pleased moan ekes out of him. Some sound that makes me take his hair a little tighter, use him a little harder, makes him dig his fingers deeper into that wound. “Ah, fuck.”
He loves it, the feedback, the way he’s pulling me all apart. I’m barely controlling him now. His suction is so tight, his mouth so hot, and fuck, I’m going to come too soon if he keeps doing that.
But I want to. I want to paint his throat white. I want him gagging on my cum, kissing me with a mouth full of it, and—
His lips smash into mine, the taste I’d craved on his tongue. His knee locks over my thigh as he pushes me back, crawling on top of me, the sex and the heat of him intoxicating.
“Mine,” he growls, and plasters his mouth against mine.
“Mine,” he demands, and wraps a hand around my dick.
My hips shock forward into his palm, his thighs pushing mine wide open. “Marco,” he rasps, his other hand landing on my neck, “I want you to say it.”
He licks along my lower lip, and my breath catches, my desperation to taste him, his control of me. “I’m yours. Robin, I’m yours, now and for as long as you want me.”
He strokes my cock, his eyes devouring me. “What can I fuck you with?”
I fling out a hand, pulling open a drawer, almost fumbling the lubricant. He snatches it off me, coats his fingers.
But I catch him at the wrist.
For one stark moment we’re frozen, his gaze darkly curious, on the verge of opening that pretty mouth to argue.
Then I slam a hand into his shoulder and knock him off balance, his back hitting the soft sheets. My lips crash against his, and his legs wrap me. I swipe the moisture from his fingertips, and in half a second I’m fucking him with two fingers, thick and hot and just like he knows I like it.
He gasps out my name, claws at his hair, shoves his wrist against his mouth to try to stifle the gorgeous sounds he’s making. “Is this what you wanted, birdie?”
He whimpers an agreement, his back arching, begging me for more.
I cup his balls, curling my fingers against his sweet spot. “Do you want me to keep going?”
He clenches against my unrelenting touch. “Please, Marco.”
I lean over, kiss him, relishing the sweat above his lip, the way he’s losing control, the way he’s giving himself over to me so completely. I use him,enjoy him, let him feel what I hope no other man has ever given him until he’s falling apart. Until I can’t take any more. “Do you want me to fuck you, birdie?”
His eyes flutter open, swimming on a sea of pleasure just for a moment until his focus comes back, until a mischievous sparkle comes into them, and he says, “No. I’m going to fuck you.”
One kick, and it’s me on my back, Robin climbing on top of me. He snatches up some lubricant, then glides his hand over my dick, coating me, ripping shudders of pleasure through me. His other hand slams down on my throat, and in a voice that’s pure sex, lip curling, he says, “When you’re out on that field, and all those people are screaming for you, who do you belong to?”
“Ah, fuck.” His hand moves faster. “You, Robin.”
He lifts a leg over me, straddling me, his enormous cock hard and dripping. “When all the other men in that dungeon eye fuck you, who do you belong to?”
