Page 57
“Relax. I won’t fuck you right now.”
I drag in a breath, furious that my body’s shaking. “Then get that thing off me.”
“No.”
He moves.
Not in.
Up.
He drags his length up from my hole, over the cleft, all the way to the small of my back, then down again, painting a wet line over skin he just spanked. The head catches on my hole on the way down.
“You feel how big I am?” he asks.
“I feel you being a fucking degenerate.”
Smack.
The sting explodes right as his cock slides back down and notches against me again. I choke. He laughs under his breath and does it once more: spank, grind, drag. My hole twitches every time the head touches it.
“Mouthy,” he says, and hits me again.
“Because you’re rubbing your dick on me like a dog.”
“Mm.” He pushes the head against my hole and holds it there, letting me think, just for a heartbeat, that the next movement will split me open. “Dogs don’t usually wait.”
I try to stab him again.
The knife barely lifts before he slams my hand back down and uses the motion to roll his hips, sliding his length up between my cheeks, then down, then up again.
“I will fucking kill you.”
“Later. Let me come first.”
He’s insane. Completely, spectacularly fucking insane.
And I’m no better, because I have a safe word. I know exactly what to say if I want this to end, and I know he’ll listen. But the word stays lodged behind my teeth, because I don’t want him to stop. Not yet. Maybe not at all. His closeness makes my head spin, and every second feels better than the last. He feels good. Too fucking good.
The next slide almost breaches my entrance, and I choke. “Kento—”
“I know.” He kisses the back of my neck, soft, which is obscene after everything else. “I said I won’t fuck you right now.”
He spanks me again, then pushes his hips in flush, his length trapped between my cheeks, sliding over my hole in one long stroke.
“Be good and stay still so I can use you properly.”
I try to move, but he takes my hair in his fist and puts my head down. My cheek hits the desk, papers sticking to my skin, and his palm stays. “I said stay still.”
He shifts his angle, notches himself lower, and starts fucking the space between my cheeks properly. His cock is hot enough to make my thoughts go white. Every time he bottoms out against me, his hips brush the sting he left on my ass.
I make a whiny, needy sound.
“There,” he murmurs, sweet. “Let me hear you.”
He keeps my head pinned and reaches around with his other hand. He presses my cock down against the desk with two fingers, holding it there so every roll of his hips forces me to rut the surface. “You’re so hard, my little prince.”
“It doesn’t mean anything.”
