Page 126 of Offside Angle

“No, cariño,” I tease. “You like it more than girls do… because you have this.”

I angle my hips and thrust forward, hitting his prostate dead on with the head of my cock.

His back arches violently off the bed as a loud, broken sound tears out of him — somewhere between a scream and a moan. His wrists pull hard against the tie, and instead of letting the sound out fully, he lifts himself as much as he can and crashes his mouth against mine.

He kisses me desperately, groaning into my mouth, trying to muffle himself. His legs wrap around my waist on instinct, pulling me deeper as his whole body trembles beneath me.

I kiss him back just as fiercely, one hand sliding into his hair while I keep the other braced beside his head. I don’t move yet. I just let him feel me, deep and full inside him, while he shakes and moans against my lips.

“That’s it,” I whisper against his mouth. “Let me hear you.”

I roll my hips in deep, steady thrusts, giving Matteo time to adjust to the stretch. I keep one hand braced on the bed and the other gripping his thigh, squeezing gently as I move inside him. His body gradually relaxes around me, the tension melting into something hotter, needier.

I look down at him, watching his face. “Do you want your hands, guapo?”

Matteo glances up at his wrists, then back at me. He hesitates.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” I tell him gently.

He swallows, then says, quieter than before, “Give me one.”

I chuckle softly and reach up, carefully untying one of his wrists. The second his hand is free, it shoots forward and grabs onto me — his fingers curling around my bicep, then sliding up to my shoulder.

The moment he touches me, my eyes roll back for a second. “Fuck…” I breathe out.

I start moving again, deeper this time. Matteo moans loudly, his back arching off the bed with every thrust. His free hand grips me tighter, nails digging into my skin as I fuck him in long, steady strokes.

“Who…” he pants between moans, “knew being tied up was so good…”

He lets out another shaky breath, then adds, almost without thinking, “Well… Luca apparently.”

The second Luca’s name leaves his mouth, something hot and possessive flares in my chest. I thrust harder — deeper — the sound of skin meeting skin filling the room.

Matteo screams.

Not a moan. A full, broken scream that echoes off the walls.

“Fuck! Do that again,” he gasps.

I don’t make him ask twice.

I snap my hips forward again, harder and deeper than before, angling just right so I drag against his prostate with every thrust. I keep the pace controlled — not wild yet — but there’s nothing gentle about it now. My hand tightens on his thigh as I watch him fall apart beneath me.

If he says that name again… I think, jaw tight, I’m not going to be gentle anymore.

I reach over and grab the blanket, bunching it up in one hand. “Up,” I say, patting the side of his hip.

Matteo lifts without question. I slide the folded blanket underneath him, raising his hips just enough so that every thrust will hit that spot inside him perfectly. Once he’s settled, I grip his thigh again and start moving.

The change is immediate.

I angle my hips and drive in deep, hitting his prostate with every stroke. Matteo’s mouth falls open on a loud moan. His free hand grips my shoulder tighter as his body starts to shake.

“Santi… please…” he gasps, his hips rolling up to meet mine. “Can I come now?”

His voice is wrecked, eyes squeezed shut again as he writhes beneath me. I’ve never been particularly into begging before, but hearing it from Matteo does something to me I can’t explain.

I lean down closer, my thrusts never slowing.