Page 60 of Right Up His Alley

Pleasure builds within me. A tightening in my lower abdomen tells me Truett is working me toward my first orgasm. I bob my head in time with his, matching his speed and intensity. We both try to chase our climax as it builds and builds within us. I’m close. Almost there. And then…

Truett pulls away.

I don’t need to see him to know he has a wicked smile on his face, that bastard. “I’m not ready for you to come yet, babe. Not until I’m inside of you, fucking you like I’ve been wanting to do for a while now.”

His words are just words and shouldn’t be as hot as they are, but I’ve always been into dirty talk during sex. I hate when people shy away from it, forcing us to fuck in silence. That’s more awkward to me.

“You’ve thought of fucking me?” I ask, panting.

Truett laughs deep in the back of his throat. His heavy weight is off me, and I immediately miss his warmth. He moves off the bed and grabs something from the bedside table. The bed dips again as he climbs between my legs. “Many times, in many different ways. I think about you tightening around me as we come together.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Truett grabs my legs, pushing them back against my chest. “Keep them there for me, baby. Let me see that pretty little hole of yours.”

His words are so crude and dirty. He has me panting like a bitch in heat, so of course I do as he says, baring myself to him. He looks over every inch of me, as if committing the scene to memory so he can relive it again later. Even in this vulnerable position, I feel powerful. Powerful because of the way he drinks me in, making me feel like he’d do anything I ask of him.

Something pops open, and I notice the small bottle of lube in his hand. He came prepared, but so did I. I didn’t know this would happen, but I hoped, so I also packed lube and condoms. And who knows, depending on how the night goes, we may need them.

“Relax for me, Ezra,” he says in a way that makes it very hard to relax. He rests a hand on the back of my thigh as his free hand reaches down. The first swipe of his finger against my rim has me tensing. “Relax, baby. I need to get you ready. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Maybe he’s trying to distract me, or maybe he just can’t help himself, but Truett leans in and captures my lips with his. This kiss differs from before. The hunger and the urgency are still there, simmering just beneath the surface, but now there’s something deeper. A slow, deliberate passion. His tongue teases mine, coaxing me open, claiming my mouth, until the tension drains from my body. Every stroke, every heated press of his lips has me unraveling beneath his touch, until I’m nothing but putty in his hands, ready to be shaped by his desire.

His fingers circle my tight ring of muscles again. He gently works one finger, prepping me to take him. I shiver with excitement and need just as he presses past my tight walls, moving his finger in and out of me at a slow, rhythmic rate. I moan, eyes fluttering as I grip my legs harder to keep them in place.

“You’re doing so good for me, Ezra,” he praises, humming in approval. I nearly come right then and there, feeling an enjoyable tinge of pain pulsate through my cock. Didn’t think praise would be a kink of mine, but it wakes something visceral inside of me.

“You can take another,” he says, pressing another slender digit inside me. My wall strains around him. The pressure builds into something pleasurable as he works me open. He takes his time. Each stroke is calculated and measured, making sure he doesn’t hurt me, but also pushing me to my limits.

It’s too much.

And not enough.

“Truett…” I groan. “Please.” I don’t know what I’m begging for, but whatever it is, I want it.

Except Truett plays with me. “Please what, Ezra? Use your words.”

I want to kiss him and punch his smug face equally. And yet I find myself bending to his will once again. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Good, because I very much wish to fuck you too.” He grins before slowly removing his fingers. I whimper at the loss of him but know something better and bigger is coming. Truett rips open a foil, and I watch as he rolls the condom down his shaft.

“Breathe,” he says, as if I could with his cock this close to me. But I try, forcing my body to unclench as I take deep breaths for him. Truett nudges his cock against my entrance and, with slow precision, guides himself inside me.

“Oh fucking hell,” I moan, digging my nails into my flesh, focusing on that sting rather than the pressure of his cock in my tight ass. Just like with his fingers, the pain is fleeting, and soon I’m left with the feeling of complete fullness, while tendrils of pleasure shoot through my body.

“Fuck, Ezra. I’m not going to last long; you’re so fucking tight,” he warns.

“Fuck me,” I hiss through a clenched jaw.

Truett’s pupils are blown wide. He has one hand next to the side of my head while the other grips my thigh, pushing it further back until there’s a slight strain in my muscles.

Then he does exactly what we’ve both been craving, or at least what I’ve been craving. Truett claims me. His body moves with mine, each thrust a deliberate, possessive stroke that leaves me gasping and begging for more.

I meet him eagerly, my body arching, craving every impact, every delicious collision of skin against skin. The fancy room is filled with the raw, sinful sounds of our bodies coming together. Each moan spilling from my lips only spurs him on.

I’m lost in him—utterly, completely his. Every touch, every movement binds me to him, unraveling me piece by piece until I’m nothing but pins in his line of sight, anticipating the moment he hits the spot, crashing me apart. And god, does he know exactly how to strike.

The same familiar pleasure builds inside of me. I pull Truett down, kissing him with wild abandon, letting my lips and tongue say the things I cannot. I’m so fucking close that, at any moment, I’ll shatter and never be the same.