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“Thought you were sore.”
“It’s not that bad.” I mean, it’s not great, but it’s not terrible.
Plus, like I said—it’s hard to fuck up being a hole.
“I’d kill to sink my dick inside you again.”
“Say less.”
I turn to my side, and he adjusts to press his chest to my back. With a controlling hand he pushes my top thigh forward until my knee is close to meeting my stomach. He shifts around behind me, the bottle of lube opening and closing. The cool gel on his fingertips swirls around my hole before they both sink in, filling me with more.
I’m tender, yes, and the burn from last night reignites with his probing touch, but let’s just say I’m willing to deal with it. His fingers and more.
“It’s so goddamn hot, Drew.”
“Yeah,” I say on a long moan willing my body not to tense up too much again. The fact that I just came helps.
“Thank you for this,” he murmurs, pulling up flush to me, adjusting the head of his cock to notch at my entrance and then looping an arm beneath mine to brace around my shoulder. He presses his mouth to my neck, inhaling deeply as he nudges my hole.
I’m locked tight again, and he might as well be trying to push through a concrete wall.
But he remains patient with me, giving gentle thrusts against the tight ring until, due to no intentional action of my own, I open for him. His cockhead bursts through, and I let out that long, low sound I’ve never heard myself make until last night.
The feeling of violation returns, but this time it comes with excitement, too. The kind of excitement that I used to get when I was a teenager and found a rare private moment in my crowded house with Porn Hub. Like I’m doing something wrong, and dirty—something to be ashamed of, but I can’t help myself.
“Oh, God,” he groans, sinking his teeth into the meat of my shoulder. “I fucking love this.”
I shove a hand into his hair, gripping it by the roots and keeping his mouth attached to my skin. “Go slow.”
“Mmhm.”
He draws back slightly and then rolls forward, impaling me fully on his cock. I groan louder. His slick entrance makes a sucking sound, and my own cock threatens to fill again. Olivier finds a slow, rocking rhythm as he fucks me and leaves marks on my neck.
I lie there, eyes closed, sometimes grimacing with the intense stretch, but my efforts to relax finally bear some fruit. If I can ignore the fact that I’m letting a man put his dick in my ass and focus on Olivier getting off, it’s better. If I can concentrate on the sensation of being filled and let my body bear down the way it wants to, then it doesn’t hurt anymore. It’s not bad at all.
And with all that out of the way, because I’m not the one that matters right now, my own nerve endings send different signals to my brain, and I say things like, “Just like that. Fuck, yeah.”
“Mm…Drew…”
The continued stimulation of my prostate is intense. It’s so fucking much. Making me sweat, making me pant, making me hard again.
“I’m close…too close,” he whispers. “You feel so fucking good. Gonna come so goddamn hard.”
I groan, letting go of his hair to fist my own cock. I don’t know if I can come again, but my dick demands another shot at it. “Fuck me,” I mutter, over and over. “Fuck me, fuck me…”
Not like fuck my life, but Jesus Christ—keep fucking me.
His arm tightens around my shoulder, muscles flexing, showing remarkable strength and determination. His hips keep rolling at their erotic best, but he’s moving quicker, chasing his release, and it’s incredible to be the one he’ll find it in. I already know I want to do this again.
More than once. The thought alone comes as a relief. A relief so powerful, I relax even more and encourage him even louder. “That’s so fucking good. God, you’re good. Such a good boy, fuck…Olivier…”
His body tenses, his dick deep in my ass, and then he fills me, a panting moan escaping him as he shudders against my back, squeezing me even tighter. My second orgasm is surprisingly strong. Cum shoots up my abs, going as far as my chest, and I get this fleeting thought that we almost always come at the same time, but mostly I’m just feeling the overload—the wave crashing through me, the tension exploding and dissipating as I milk my dick and swallow lungfuls of air to work my way through this.
He pants against my neck, dick still twitching deep in my body. The pressure makes me bear down again and he shivers. “Holy shit…” he murmurs before he covers my neck with long, wet, open-mouthed kisses, and I respond like I’ve never had sex before, moaning and groaning and hissing and yessing.
Our frenzied afterglow eventually runs its course, and I don’t know about him, but I’m completely spent. When he slides out, he crawls over me, taking my face in his hands to kiss me lazily and so thoroughly, I feel more wanted than I’ve ever felt in my life.
It’s safe to say, I’ve officially changed my mind about The Heir.
