Page 105 of Arctic Titans of Northwood U: Volume 3

Griffin pulled himself lower down the length of my body, his lips tracing my collarbone, slipping to my solar plexus, and kissing the middle of my abs. He moved lower still, until he had to kneel and drag his lips over the mound in my underwear.

It felt like the sweetest sin, the first sin, to have his lips explore me there. When he lifted the waistband of my underwear over my cock, his pupils grew bigger, consuming the hazel irises, replacing them with blackness.

He took my underwear off and whispered to turn around. “I want that ass, Andrei,” he said. “I’ll die without it.”

“So dramatic,” I said, playing with his curls between my fingers. But I turned around anyway, hugging the pillow as Griffin lowered his head to my butt, sliding his hot, wet tongue hard against my hole.

We indulged in each other’s bodies nearly every night. And on the nights when we didn’t, we lay together in each other’s arms as soon as we were alone, watching trash TV or just talking like we used to.

Some nights, we pleasured each other with our hands and mouths; some nights, he would hug me from behind and thrust his dick between my cheeks until I felt the heat of his cum spilling over me—it would inevitably tip me over and make my orgasm a thunderstorm in my chest—yet other nights, when we had hours to ourselves, we did this. This incredible, wonderful thing that had always felt a little underwhelming, a little like a chore that might be more easily done on one’s own. Until now.

Now, I couldn’t imagine it any other way.

And I finally knew what they meant when they said all the other men were ruined for me.

Griffin kissed me tenderly, then licked me until I was slick and hot with saliva, but he never hurried. He did this like it gave him immense pleasure, and when I’d asked him, he said it did.

He thrust his tongue hard against my hole three times in quick succession, then whispered, “I fucking love the taste of you.” He licked and bit and kissed, he sucked and spat, and he finally rubbed his finger against my needy hole, making me wild with a new wave of lust.

When he pushed his middle finger inside of me and turned his wrist one way and the other, I bit down on the pillow. How I wanted us to disappear for a long, lazy weekend to some forest cabin and let ourselves cry each other’s names all night long.

I muffled the sounds of overwhelming pleasure and thrust my ass harder against him, pushing myself on his finger and feeling him find that special place that sent tears into my eyes.

Griffin pressed my hole with a second finger after a few minutes of getting me comfortable, then slid it inside, making me groan into the pillow and filling me with tingles. Together, his fingers stretched me wider, sliding in and out with careful, deliberate movements, until it was so easy that he could speed up and not even make me wince.

I loved how he paid attention to me. I had no idea what cues he was reading and whether he understood the tension in the muscles along my back, but he never went a step further. He never crossed that sweet, invisible line between discomfort and infinite pleasure.

When he added the third finger, my eyes rolled back, and my mouth opened wider, though all the sounds were tied into a knot in my throat, not letting me moan or breathe. Little bursts of oxygen came into my lungs as my chest shuddered, but breathing freely was a distant memory.

“Fuck me, Griff,” I begged, voice wrecked. “Fuck me hard. Please. Need you.”

His fingers pushed deeper into me, making me open my eyes and lift my head, neck strained, muscles tense, veins rising along my skin under my fingers where my hands had slipped from my mouth to my throat.

His hand moved back, fingers sliding out of me, and he rubbed circles around my hole as it clenched, pulsing with anticipation.

Griffin reached over to the backpack on the floor and found the condoms and lube. He slipped the protection on, then poured the lube generously over his fingers, rubbing himself with wet sounds that filled my heart with hotter blood.

When he returned to the bed and placed himself above me, I sighed with relief. I was only ever fully comfortable when I felt all of him near me, on top of me, inside me. His cock pressed gently against my hole, Griffin waiting for me to lift my hips a little higher and make it easier. The first push, slow and restrained, made me bite my lip and whimper.

He pulled back, massaging me with the slick tip of his cock, until I nodded for him to try again.

I relaxed, letting it wash over me as he adjusted the angle and pushed into me, breaking through the invisible mental barrier and entering me three or so inches deep.

The gentle sway of his hips unlocked something in me and made me breathe again, made me inhale the sweet, fresh air into my burning lungs, and I felt him impale me deeper with that incredible cock, filling me like I had never been filled before.

I reached back with my right hand as Griffin lowered himself and began to kiss the back of my neck. My fingers ran through the silky curls of his hair, and I closed my fist hard as he thrust his hips down and pushed deeper into me.

He fucked me tenderly, his movements measured to make it last, to torment me with enough to fuel my flaming desire but never give me so much to make me come. He was a devil of the best sort.

When he descended on me, his body slapping harder against my ass, he grunted against my lips. I knew he was measuring his moves for his own sake as much as mine, and the amount of control he exerted over these swirling urges was incredible. He held back, fucking me harder, then slowing down to let us both truly feel what it was like to exist as one.

When his hand descended on my ass, he pulled all the way back. “Turn around,” he said, voice heated and low. “I want to look at you.”

I did, finding his cheeks flushed and eyes glassy with desire. He towered over me, kneeling like a god, body chiseled to perfection and hair messy like in a Renaissance painting.

Griffin wrapped his hands around my ankles and lifted my legs high, barely flexing his biceps. He brought my feet to his shoulders, his dick swaying under its own weight when it throbbed, and he turned his head slowly to my left foot, touching it with his nose, inhaling, parting his lips, and kissing the side of it as he slowly leaned in, bending my knees and pushing them to my chest.

He crawled closer, his dick resting on my exposed taint, and kissed my foot while swaying his hips back and forth. He lowered his waist, then thrust his hips forward, pressing himself against my slick, warm hole.