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If anything, it’s harder, twitching every time he curls that finger experimentally. Apparently my dignity has left the building, because there is no fucking way I’m supposed to be reacting like this.
“Breathe,” he says against my temple. “You’re clenching like you think you can keep me out. You can’t.”
He moves the hand down from my chest and strokes my cock at the same time, matching the shallow thrusts of his finger. The dual sensation is devastating. Every time he presses deeper, I feel it in my stomach. Every time he twists his wrist around the head of my cock, I feel it in my spine.
Then he adds a second finger, when the first slides too easily. The stretch burns again, and I flinch, a high sound escaping.
“Shh. Just a little more. You can take it.”
“Fuck— Slow down—”
“I’m already slow.” The fingers inside me thrust deeper, finding a spot that makes white heat flash behind my eyes.
He pulls both fingers almost all the way out, then thrusts them back in harder. He keeps going, finger-fucking me while his fist never stops working my cock.
He pulls his fingers free just long enough to gather more of the precum still dripping down my cock, coating them until they shine. When he pushes back in, it’s three this time, and it makes me cry out. “Too much—”
“It’s not.” His arm bands tighter across my waist, holding me still while he works all three fingers deeper. “Your little hole is stretching so well for me.”
The burn eases into a throbbing fullness. He curls them, and when he finds that spot again, my vision whites out for a second.
“Good boy.” He kisses the side of my head, open-mouthed and possessive, while his fingers keep thrusting.
“Tell me again how I don’t own you.”
I try, but how am I supposed to pretend he doesn’t own me when he’s already worked his way into every part of my existence? He’s literally beneath my skin.
I remain silent. He doesn’t ease up. Every time he presses deeper, the stretch burns in the best and worst way.
“Fuck— I can’t—”
I don’t get to finish. Instead, I come, spilling over his fingers, my ass clenching around them like it’s trying to keep them inside even while the rest of me is falling apart. He works me through every pulse until I’m oversensitive and shaking, and the only sound left is my wrecked breathing.
He slides his fingers free, then brings the same hand up in front of my face. Before I can turn away, he presses two of those fingers against my lips.
“Open.”
He pushes them past my teeth. I make a sound of pure protest around them, but he only presses deeper. “Swallow.”
I glare at him, breathing hard through my nose, but the fingers don’t leave until I finally give in and swallow.
Only then does he pull them free.
He tucks my cock away, pulls my underwear and pants back up, buttons and zips everything like nothing happened, then he turns me around gently.
One hand cups the back of my head. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to my temple, tender, the complete opposite of everything that came before.
“Good,” he murmurs against my skin. “You did so well.”
The sudden gentleness after all that roughness startles me.
“Don’t—”
He cuts me off with his mouth.
His hands frame my face, thumbs stroking once along my cheekbones like he’s soothing a spooked animal. He kisses me like he has all the time in the world, like the filthy things he just did and the soft way he’s holding me now can somehow exist in the same breath.
I’m melting into his hands before I even realize it. That’s the problem. Around him, my guard disappears. One kiss and I forget every reason I should be careful. I’m letting him get too close, and I already know where that leads.
