Well, since he asked politely…
Another slap, this one I land on the left side of his ass. Then the right. Each one elicits more delicious noises from him, and each time, I up the stakes. I cup my hand to make it sting more. I pry his cheeks apart and land a smack right over his asshole. His balls.
Rowan responds so beautifully, groaning and thrusting his ass back for more. Whether it’s the heat of the fire or just what’s going on here, a beat of sweat rolls down my back.
“Look at you,” I murmur. “Practically begging for it. You asking for me to fuck you, whore?”
This time, it’s a guttural sound. Almost pained. He tips his ass up, though, presenting himself so perfectly.
“Yeah, you love that, don’t you? You love it when I call you a whore.” I smooth my hand over his heated flesh. Lick a stripe across one cheek for good measure. “You hate it, but you love it. Tell me I’m right.”
He moans and presses his face to the floor, but a whispered “Yes” slips out.
My fingers brush over his hole. “Does this whore need to be filled up?”
“Oh God. Please, Milo.”
“Tell me you want it.”
“I want it. I want it.” A shudder passes through him. The things that does to my ego, I swear.
My thumb slides down his cleft. “How much?”
“A-a lot. So much. God.” His answer is desperate and broken.
A better man wouldn’t like the way that sounds.
Pulling him open again, I swipe my tongue over his sweat-slicked skin. He’s salty and clean. The dampness of his hair when he came in tells me he showered again after we fucked, and there’s a hint of leather and woodsy spice that honestly makes my dick surge.
“This entire situation has been frustrating as fuck. You gonna let me take out my frustrations on your ass, whore?”
He’s got his head cradled on his forearms now, nodding frantically. “Do it. I don’t care.”
Does he really not? Again, I tell myself a better man wouldn’t fuck him. Would probably toss some platitudes his way about being worth more.
Fuck it. This was his idea.
I line myself up at his entrance. “I won’t ask again.”
“Stop asking and—aahhh!”
I push inside, letting the heat and pressure suck me in. Fuck, that’s good. As much as I loved that big tool of his nailing my prostate earlier, the pressure and the heat of him make my eyeballs roll back in my head.
Then I pull out and thrust in again. Hard. Fast. Just a taste. I tease him with slow strokes, dragging across his prostate, listening for his moans to increase in pitch and frequency. Then I push home to the hilt, stuffing him full until he can’t seem to take it anymore and starts to squirm and beg.
“You should see this,” I murmur. “My cock sliding into your ass. The way it opens for me so nicely. Your hole is clenching around me like it’s got something to prove. So damn sexy.”
“God, please.”
“God’s not here, baby.” I thrust again. Hard. Steady. Working to keep my breathing under control, my body under control. I’d planned on edging us both for a little while, but already his moaning and begging and all that goddamn squeezing have me desperate.
I’m thrusting hard and fast, letting the tide pull me under. If this were a hookup I might be more careful. This time my anger has me erratic and careless.
“Milo, please. I need to come. Please.”
If his begging, his broken cries, and his wet mouth moaning my name make me see stars, I’ll admit it to nobody. Despite our deal, there are no promises here.
But I’m already too keyed up. Too close. Apparently, so is he. “You need to come?”
