“You like it?”
He had to stroke himself. “Fucking yeah, I fucking like it. I like you. Every single part of you. Inside and out.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I said, not willing to let myself feel that.
Finn lined his cock up with my hole, saying, “I can’t believe I’m about to put my cock in you. Jesus.”
“Stop talking about it and do it.”
We locked eyes, and he shoved all eight plus inches in me at once.
No teasing or fingering me open. No telling me to breathe, or waiting for me to adjust for him. Nope, my drunk boyfriend, who was fucking a man for the first time ever, rammed it all in me without a second thought.
It was my fault for teasing him, but it knocked the breath out of me, and I grunted. Finn asked if I was ok, and I told him to hold it there for a second. He did, giving me time to relax and realize I’d most definitely feel that in the morning. The next day, too.
After a minute, I grabbed his face and kissed him, wild and sloppy. He had to find his aggressive side. I needed to be fucked. Hard.
“Fuck me, babe,” I groaned in his ear.
“Yeah? You’re okay?”
“More than okay.”
“Won’t you be sore?”
“I fucking hope I am. I can’t wait to watch your speech with a sore ass ‘cause the best man fucked me.”
“Fuuuuck, Ry,” he moaned, and moved his hips.
Finn didn’t hold back and ramped up his speed and force. Pounding away at my ass like he was mad at it. It hurt a little at first, but then gave way to the most intense bliss I could imagine.
My body opened for him, and my groans turned into moans. Finn grunted as sweat beaded his forehead, and my eyes rolled back. Every cell in my body screamed for him. His testosterone-fueled lust made manifest was as much a cleansing ritual as wish fulfillment. After everything that day, I needed, not wanted or desired, to feel the pain and pleasure of sex with a man. With him. With Finn. With the man I loved. We might not say it yet, but I felt it, and the singular wholeness of giving myself to him was beautiful.
Finn kissed me, aggressive and possessive. The sharp smacking sounds echoed off the walls, adding to my pounding heart and his ragged breath. I moaned, “Oh my god, Finn,fuckme.”
I held onto his neck tighter. His skin was already hot and damp. He smelled of deodorant, beer, and a man in motion, filling my lungs and making my cock throb. I remembered how much I loved to bottom and wondered why it took me so long to switch it up.
When our eyes met, I found something fierce above me. Not some demon lost to lust, but Finn, my boyfriend, stepping into the dom top role I knew he had inside him.
“You look so fucking good under me, taking my cock, Ry.” He jackhammered my prostate, and I whimpered. “Even the fucking sounds you’re making…fuck.”
“And you’re fucking perfect above me.”
He kissed me again, diving in like a bomber to suck the air from my chest, then biting and tugging on my lip as he pulled away. Once he did, he smirked and said, “Hold on.”
Finn sheathed himself inside me, then sat up. With the grace of a man committed, he hoisted my legs onto his shoulders and then threaded his arms under my back. Before I knew what he had planned, I was in his arms, off the bed.
Finn’s eyes showed the strain, as did the vein on his forehead. He took his first breath since lifting me after we crashed into the wall, and I exhaled the one I had held onto.
“Fucking Christ,” Finn snarled, before mashing his lips to mine, and fucking me against the wall.
I was almost sure he wanted to fuck me through the drywall. I could do nothing but take it, crumpled in his arms and bent in half with my legs dangling over his shoulders. My head pressed back as the pictures around me rattled back and forth, adding a new chorus to the soundtrack of our fuck.
It was fucking incredible. To feel the pure, unleashed power of that man. His aggression and care, his cock and lips. His chest pressed against mine while he held and fucked me in the air.
His legs trembled, and his breathing stuttered. When he looked at me, his eyes were lidded. “You’re so fucking…” Finn gulped air, never letting his hips pause. “Perfect, Ry. Holy…” His nostrils flared, dragging in more oxygen and me, “… Shit.”
“So are you,” I said, lacing my fingers in his sweaty hair and kissing him.
