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What do I want?
“Everything.”
“Come ‘ere, then,” he orders. The pot of oil is on the bed, and he dips his fingers inside it before putting it back on the table. “I’m going to ruin you,” he promises me. “Leave you in fucking shambles, unable to walk, drooling on my pillow.”
It should be embarrassing how quickly I scramble to straddle him, but I think I’ve already established that my self-respect is long gone. I steady myself with a hand on his shoulder and reach behind my back to grab his dick, intending to hold it still while he slides inside. Justin grabs my wrist in his fist and slaps my ass with the other hand.
“For someone who promised to be a good boy,” he whispers with his lips against my ear, “you sure are being bratty.”
“Need you,” I whine.
I twist my head this way and that in a vain attempt to catch his lips in a kiss. His laugh is dark with amusement. He pins my hand behind my back, the other one fisted in his hair.
“I see you’ve forgotten all those lessons I taught you about patience, huh?”
“Fuck you, Justin,” I grunt when his fingers slide gracefully between my cheeks. He circles my hole but doesn’t press inside.
As soon as he releases my arm, I dig my fingers into his shoulder.
“Oh, I plan on it.”
Justin nips playfully at my throat.
“But first I want to hear you beg for it.”
Two fingers breach my defenses.
I don’t wait for him to finger me properly. I take matters into my own hands and fuck down on his fingers, pressing until I feel him against my prostate. Until his knuckles are pushing deep into the meat of my ass. He scissors his fingers and then twists his hand, prepping me for my ruination.
It's magic.
“You’re a needy little thing, aren’t you, baby?”
I let my broken whimpers answer his question, then grip his head again when his lips find my nipple. Gods—it’s—right there.I’mright there. Right on the edge of everything. Justin knows it too. He knows how desperate I am. He knows how tight I’m wound. I’m gagging for it. For him. For—
I whine like a toddler who’s had their favorite toy stolen when Justin pulls his fingers out. Then groan on the precipice of oblivion when he replaces them with the tip of his cock. But Justin grips my neck between his fingers when I try to spear myself down on him and freezes me on the spot.
“Whoa, baby,” he admonishes. “You need to slow down. There’s a fine line between a little pain and serious damage. It’s been a while. You’ll hurt yourself.”
I can feel his palm against my Adam’s apple when I swallow. It’s a struggle to look him in the eye, but I do so and try to show him how serious I am.
I can't wait.
“I bought a dildo,” I tell him, pretending I’m not blushing to high hell. “It’s not the same. Not the same at all. But I can take whatever you give me.”
Justin throws his head back and laughs, his messy blond hair falling over his forehead. The nails of his free hand run up and down my shoulders.
“God, Remi,” he smiles. “You are just full of surprises.”
He kisses me so hard I’m actually pleading. Begging into his mouth for him to finally let me have him. He releases my throat at last and brings both his hands to my hips.
“Okay, love. Do your worst.”
The dildo is nothing compared to the nirvana of Justin. The warmth of his body pressed into mine. The power of his shoulders under my fingers where I dig my hands into his skin, using his strength to steady me on my descent. A dildo can’t tell you how good you taste or how tight your ass is or whisper how much they love you.
It can't tell you that your face is a wet dream. That you take his cock so well. That you’re such a good boy.
It can’t kiss you like it’s trying to suck your soul out from your body. Can’t rock your hips in tiny pulses, so its cock rubs harshly against your most sensitive spots.
