Page 88 of But For You

I did and could, and there was a lot of Sam Kage to take. He filled and stretched me as no one ever had.

“Watching”—his voice was a husky groan—“could make me come.”

I pushed back on his finger, and he added a second, working the tight rings of muscle, trying to get my body to unclench.

“Fight me,” he ordered. “Go ahead and try because I can’t wait.”

I heard the jingle of his belt buckle, the zipper, and then the sound of flesh on flesh. Then the greasing of his dick, and I smelled his pre-cum before the touch of the enormous head at my crease. He pressed between my cheeks, letting his cock part them, and the first nudge made me jolt forward.

His angle changed, lowered, and he pushed up and in, shoving deep and hard, the lube letting it happen. Breached muscles rippled around him.

“Oh God,” he groaned loudly, angrily, driving, pushing, grinding into me without hesitation. “You just sucked me in; your ass just swallowed me fuckin’ whole.”

I was sweating but freezing at the same time as he pounded me into the door, ramming hard, not caring about the noise. He released my hands, leaning back so he could watch his dick disappear into my ass again and again. I knew what he was looking at, had been told enough times over the years.

The steel hold was on the back of my neck again. His fingers would leave bruises, but I knew he didn’t care. Only exerting power and dominance mattered, seeing me take him in, feeling the silky walls squeeze around him, knowing I belonged only to him.

His hot, thick length impaled me over and over, and then suddenly, his left hand slid over mine. Our fingers laced together, splayed flat on the door, as his other hand fisted my dripping shaft.

“Come,” was the guttural command as he thrust hard, jerking me off as I cried his name. “You feel so good when you give yourself to me.”

The rocking motion, the pound and retreat … my body was seized in friction and heat, the sound and the smell. My orgasm was wrung from me in seconds, and everything clenched at once.

“Oh fuck!” Sam yelled, my muscles clamping down on his dick so tight that he couldn’t move, held within my spasming channel. “Jory … baby …”

I was trembling. So was he. And then he was spilling inside me, and I could feel every pulse, every tremor, and hear his breath in my ear.

He wrapped his arms around me and held me close, his muscular chest plastered to my back, his mouth open on my shoulder as he just stood there and kissed every piece of skin he could reach.

I wanted to simply dissolve into him, felt like I could if he would just tighten his grip. I opened my mouth to speak.

“I have things to say.”

“G’head,” I replied softly.

He took a breath and then gently eased himself free of my body before scooping me up and carrying me to the bed. Once there, he left me and went to the bathroom.

I waited, and he returned with a cold bottle of water and a warm washcloth.

“That mini fridge in the bathroom is awesome,” he said as he opened the bottle and passed it to me. “We need one like that at home.”

“Yes,” I agreed and then gasped as he roughly cleaned cum from between my thighs and ass cheeks, then wiped off my abdomen. It wasn’t a perfect job; I was still a little sticky, but not nearly as messy. Not that I had ever cared. I loved smelling like Sam, loved having his spend drying on my skin.

“Like you care.”

“What?”

“You don’t give a damn if I clean you up or not.”

I shook my head. The man was getting very good at reading my mind.

He grunted, and I could tell he was pleased before he turned and threw the washcloth back into the bathroom.

“Did you hit the sink?”

“I got close to the sink.”

“Good enough,” I said, offering him the bottle.