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Troy, Troy, Troy…I can’t hear it enough.
His ass grips me nearly as tight as his hands on my arm, like its refusing to let my dick stop hitting that sweet spot. With the arm he isn’t gripping, I reach down and feel his cock shooting his release.
Satisfaction ripples through me as I take his lips. They’re my reward for his intense orgasm, and he gives it freely as he falls into twitches and spasms against me.
My cock is buried in him, keeping still because I’m too close, and I want to save this.
The tension we’d been holding each other in relaxes as he settles into our kisses.
I steadily pull out of him, and say, “Lie down. I want to mark you.”
Atlas doesn’t waste a moment, lying back, tucking a pillow behind his head. I’m so close, I’m worried just taking the condom off is gonna make me shoot, but I’m relieved that I’m able to keep my cool as I crawl between his legs.
I lean over him, kissing him again as I stroke my cock, his cum that I captured in my hand working as extra lubricant. And I have to admit, as much as I want to mark him with my cum, I love being marked with his.
Atlas puts his hands on my face as it rips right through me.
Finally.
Sweet fucking release.
I unleash a war cry as I lean back and watch my cum pour over him in two spurts, landing on his stomach, a bit pooling in his navel.
“You look so beautiful in my cum,” I admit.
When did I start talking like this?
He beams as I collapse beside him, catching my breath. As I rest my hand on his torso, he turns to me.
“Well, I guess you weren’t all talk after all,” he teases, making me chuckle.
“Neither were you apparently.”
“I’m never all talk.”
There’s my Atlas. I roll my eyes as I move closer to him, my hand drifting down to the pool of cum on his belly.
“You like that you marked me?” he asks.
I nod as I rub the mess against his flesh, broadening it, like a painter spreading color across a canvas. I continue massaging my cum against him, then run my finger across some and start on aTbeside the pool.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Writing my name.” He doesn’t say anything as I take my time crossing theT, then move on to theR…O…savoring that last bit of theYthat finishes just under his pec.
I admire my masterpiece. For some reason, it quiets my mind. Sets me at ease like all is suddenly right in the world.
I glance at his face to see what he thinks of my perverted artistry, and he looks…pleased?
“And people think I’m the bad boy,” he says, which makes me grin.
“I’m not usually like this.”
He cocks a brow. “Just with me?”
“Yes,” I confess.
Sure, I’m adventurous, but this was a whole other level. I don’t know where any of this stuff is coming from…or how he does what he does to me.
