Page 92 of The Beast Who Begged Me

Another slap, harder this time, and I feel the heat spreading right down to my balls, a delicious throb building deep inside me. I’m squirming, so Dami presses a hand into my lower back to keep me still.

He knows exactly what he’s doing to me. How to make me fall apart. He always has, from the first moment he touched me…

His fingers slide into the cleft of my ass, find the sensitive skin around my asshole. I push back, wanting more, needing more.

“Hold yourself open for me,” he says, slapping my ass once more. I reach back, flaming face hidden in the cushions, and pull my asscheeks wide for him. “That’s what I wanted to see. That sweet little knot.”

I’m so exposed like this. So vulnerable.

And so turned on.

He spits. I feel it hit the top of my cleft, sticky and wet. He spreads it down around my ring, tests my resistance. I force myself to relax, to open for him.

And then that finger makes its way into me, a slow intrusion, interrupted by Dami spitting once more, working it into me.

And I want more. So much more.

Just as I’m about to complain, he pulls out, spits again, and patiently begins to work another finger in. Two of them now, thick and turning in me, opening me up, making me give way to him.

With his fingers still in me, his other hand comes down again, the smack loud in the quiet room. I jolt, then push back onto his fingers, chasing the pleasure beneath the sting.

He slaps me again, again, again. Each time, I meet him, until he pauses to look down at the chair.

“You’re dripping all over the velvet. What a fucking mess.” He works a third finger in, taking his time as I stretch around it. “You going to clean it up later? Lick it up like a good boy?”

The suggestion makes me clench around his fingers. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t stop.”

“Oh, I’m not going to stop. I’m going to give you what you really crave, Caligula.”

He withdraws his fingers and I whine in protest at the sudden emptiness, turning my head as he steps to the nightstand. He takes a bottle from the drawer and returns before I can protest properly. The cap snaps open, and cool lube spreads across my hole. Into it.

He drags the head of his cock down my crease, teasing my knot with a little push.

I try to move back, to impale myself on him, but he grabs my hips, holding me in place.

“Patience,” he murmurs. “You want this?”

“Yes.”

“Then be a good boy and stay still.”

I stretch around him as he sinks deep into me, panting at the overwhelming fullness. It feels like it’ll never end, until at last he’s balls-deep in my ass, flush against my stinging skin.

“There we go,” he breathes, one hand sliding up my back to grip my shoulder. “That’s what you needed, huh? Yeah, let me hear it.”

Because I’m moaning, a continuous noise that I thought was only in my head.

It’s not.

And inside me, Dami is only swelling up more as he listens to me, his hand stroking over my lower back in a soothing motion. He waits for me to relax, and then he starts to move, grinding against that internal detonator until I can barely keep my feet beneath me. As he picks up the pace, the sound I’m making rises into a wail.

He’s teasing me, keeping me right on the edge, and I’m about to beg him to take pity on me, when he suddenly pulls out and draws me upright, an arm around my waist steadying me when my knees threaten to give.

He helps me to the floor, laying me out on my back, and I give no resistance as he arranges me to his liking.

Dami rises upright on his knees between my legs. He lifts my thighs and presses them back toward my chest, curling my hips off the carpet until my weight shifts onto my upper back and shoulders. With a hand against the back of each thigh, he keeps me in place like that, my knees spread on either side of my chest.

I’m practically folded in half. And then he re-enters me with a single thrust, tip to root, and I cry out, my hands flying up to clutch at his forearms.