“I’m—shit, I’m,” I gasped.
I was going to come.
I was going to?—
He pulled off, and the rapidly spreading warmth receded almost immediately.
“Fuck!No!”
He kissed the inside of my thigh. “Almost, pretty goalie. Almost there.” He murmured something else in Russian as his big hands turned me onto my stomach, and then he lifted my hips.
He parted my cheeks with his hands, the pressure against the tender spots where he’d smacked my ass stinging, but it was a delicious pain. It shot up my spine and made my face go hot with need.
“You want me to fuck you, yes?”
“Yes,” I muttered into the pillow. I wanted that. I wanted to feel stretched around him. I wanted to feel entirely possessed by him. I wanted to know nothing but the sound of my name on his lips and the taste of his on my own.
Vanya reached past me, and then I heard the sound of paper tearing and the crinkle of a condom packet. He shifted, and I knew he was rolling it on, but before I could reach back to feel for myself, I heard the sound of the lube cap snapping open.
I braced myself for his fingers, sucking in a breath, and I let it out on a sharp, sobbing moan as two breached my hole without any warning. The sting was profound and gorgeous. Pushing up on my elbows, I rocked down on him as he thrust in so hard, his skin slapped against mine.
My balls hung heavily between my legs, too full, desperate to be emptied. I wanted to spill on him. To mark him.
To keep him.
“I need you,” I gasped.
“I know.” He removed his fingers, then reached around and lifted me by the chest, pulling me until my back hit his chest. He used his free hand to spread my legs over his bent thighs, and then that same hand shoved between us to position his dick against me. “Deep breath.”
I obeyed, and he kissed my neck for that as he let me go and let gravity do the work. His fat cock slipped past the first ring of muscle, and then I took him deeper and deeper as I sank down.
My body felt weak, helpless, fragile as I dropped my head against his shoulder. He turned my head and took an awkward, filthy kiss just as he lifted up on his knees, taking me with him.
My own hit the mattress as he tipped me forward, and my arm flew backward, wrapping around the back of his neck to keep myself steady as he gripped me by the hips and began to fuck me in earnest.
I couldn’t speak.
I couldn’t breathe.
Pleasure rocketed through me as his dick grazed my prostate with every thrust. He kept it slow at first—a firm, heavy rolling of his hips. Then he pulled out further, pushed in harder until all I knew was the sound of his skin against mine and the feeling that I was going to lose my mind entirely if I didn’t get to come.
“Vanya,” I choked out.
“Tell me,” he murmured against my ear. His armmoved to my front, and his fingertips grazed my too-sensitive cock, making it jump. “What you need, Micah? My pretty goalie.”
His.
I was his.
“More. I need…I need to feel…more.” I couldn’t form the words. I didn’t know if it was because I wasn’t ready, or if I was afraid, or if I was lost.
But he understood me anyway because he let go with one hand, and then suddenly, on the next thrust, it made sharp, stinging contact with the right side of my ass.
The burn spread just as the pleasure did, and I sobbed.
Fuck, how did he know? And why did I like it so much? Why did I need the pain?
Was I broken?
