His mouth falls open, breath punching out, hands straining to control my pace, but I slap them away, plant them over his head against the pillow.
“Let me.” My voice hits gravel. “You can fuck me through the headboard tonight. Morning is mine.”
A spark of challenge flares, but he nods, lets his wrists lie there, a concession that costs him visible effort. I ride him harder, roll my hips, find the angle that scrapes my prostate sweetly, and hit it over and over until pleasure scatters through me like sparks.
He watches every twitch of my face, pupils huge, breathing rough. “You look fucking obscene,” he mutters.
He’s right—I must look obscene: hair falling into my eyes, lips parted, chest heaving while I milk every inch of him.
It’s what I want. I want him to see what he does to me without lifting a goddamn finger. I tighten my thighs, take him deeper, grind down hard. My vision edges with static, sharp enough I almost lose rhythm.
I steady myself with the heel of one hand planted against the mattress near his shoulder and circle my hips to keep that perfect pressure. The move makes a slick sound, wet and hungry, and Nikolaj’s hands fist in the pillowcase, knuckles white, forearms trembling from the effort of not grabbing me.
“Touch yourself,” he says, voice rough stone.
“No.” I bounce once, hard, feel him throb inside me. “You want me to finish, you work harder for it.”
“Such a fucking brat.” He tries to keep the words even, but his throat works around them. He’s close; his pulse hammers under the thin skin at his neck, and I want it between my teeth.
I lean forward, the new angle driving him deeper, lips hovering just shy of that thudding vein.
“Tell me,” I demand, rocking faster. “Tell me how it feels to watch your King wreck himself on your cock.”
His breath leaves him on a growl. “Feels like power; like I own every stutter in your heart right now.”
I bite him then, not deep enough to bruise but sharp enough that he hisses. “You do. So do something with it.”
The dam in him cracks—he bucks, hips punching up, thrust meeting me mid-grind. The headboard thunks once against the wall. I gasp, claws raking his chest for balance.
“Fuck, Nikolaj—”
“You wanted it,” he snarls, hands shooting from the pillow to clamp my ass, guiding me, forcing me down to meet each brutal upward drive. The bed creaks under the new tempo.
He’s fucking me now, just like he threatened, and I let him because the angle is savage, perfectly filthy, each bottom-out stroke knocking a small, ragged sound out of my throat. My cock slaps my abdomen, leaking onto his stomach, every nerve drawn tight and humming.
“You gonna spill for me?” he taunts, thumb sweeping to tease the stretched edge where he enters me. “Or do I need to choke it out of you?”
The flash of heat that rips through me at the threat is humiliating and perfect. I brace both palms on his chest, ride harder, chasing the burn.
“Choke later,” I gasp, sweat dripping off my chin onto his sternum. “Right now, shut up and fuck—”
He squeezes, driving up so deep the slap echoes. My vision whites out. “Ask nicer, My King.”
“Please.” The word rasps free, half curse, half prayer. “Please, Nikolaj, I need—”
He gives it. Hips jackhammer, grip punishing, the headboard slamming a steady cadence. My world narrows to piston and pulse and the swirl of heat coiling low and tight.
I reach down without thinking, fist my cock, only needing two noisy strokes before orgasm detonates—white hot and body locking, ropes striping both our stomachs.
The clench of my muscles drags a guttural, “Fuck, Vincenzo!” from him, and he slams deep, stays, hips jerking while warmthfloods inside, filling me until it seeps around the seal of us. He holds there, breathing hard, eyes locked to mine.
When the last tremor leaves us, I slump forward onto his chest, breathing as if I ran a mile uphill.
For a long minute, we breathe each other’s air, his cock softening where it’s still inside, cum leaking slowly out of me. He strokes my back soothingly, the brutality of a minute ago melted into something weirdly tender.
“Useful enough for breakfast?” I mumble against his skin.
He huffs a shaky laugh and presses a kiss to my temple. “Fuck yes.”
