Page 114 of Bitter When He Begs

I toss the plug on the bed beside us like a trophy and press my thumb to his hole, watching it clench around nothing. Needy. Open. Soaked from prep he did without me.

“You did all this for me?” I ask, my voice rough.

“Wanted to be good,” he pants into the pillow.

I lean in close and kiss the edge of his jaw. “Too fucking late for that, baby.”

I drag my hands down the backs of his thighs and settle between them, kneeling like I’m at the altar of something unholy and obscene. And right now, I don’t know what the fuck he is, but I’m about to fucking worship.

I palm my cock and stroke once, watching him breathe for a second.

“Look at you,” I mutter, thumbing over the slick rim again, feeling him arch. “You think you’re in control just because you know I’ll drop everything for this ass?”

He groans into the pillow, but it sounds like a laugh. “Worked, didn’t it? You should thank me for the view.”

I spread him wider, and give him exactly what he’s been asking for.

The first swipe of my tongue makes him jerk, his whole body seizing as I drag it from his taint to the slick, twitching hole. I hold his ass cheeks open, thumbs digging into soft skin as I devour him—slow at first, letting him feel every second, then deeper, messier, wetter. My tongue flicks over the rim, then presses inside, fucking him with it, grinding my mouth against him like I could live here forever.

Sitting back, I slap his ass hard, before I’m back, licking him open with slow, filthy drags of my tongue, letting spit drip down between his thighs as I tonguefuck him.

“Luca, please—”

“You wore this plug,” I say, pausing just long enough to suck a mark into his ass cheek, “knowing I’d break like this. Knowing I’d get on my knees like a fucking lunatic just to taste the mess you made of yourself.”

He gasps. “Knew you’d be hungry for it.”

“Oh, I’mravenous, baby,” I groan and flatten my tongue over him again, licking long and hard until his hips jerk. Then I wrap one hand under him, grip his cock, and stroke him in time with every filthy, open-mouthed kiss I give the hole he stretched out for me.

He moans like it’s a reward.

When I pull back, his ass is glistening, and Sage is gone. Cheeks flushed, eyes glassy, drool on the pillow. “Please,” he pants. “Please, fuck me already.”

I lean up, press my chest to his back, and stroke him slowly—hand around his cock, fingers tight. “Sunshine,” I murmur into his ear, “the only thing I’ve been dreaming about since I stepped off that field is splitting you open.”

He whimpers, grinding back. “Then stop dreaming.”

I don’t hesitate.

I grip the base of my cock, line up, and slap the head against his hole twice, just to hear him sob. Then I push in slow, every inch a stretch, every second a fucking punishment.

“Don’t tease,” he growls.

“I ate your ass like a man possessed, and I’m the one being accused of teasing?”

He glares. “You’re still talking.”

I thrust in fast and he shouts, back bowing, arms trembling under him as he sinks into the mattress.

“Fuck—yes,” he moans, breath catching in his throat. “God, you feel so—”

I cut him off with a brutal snap of my hips. My hands grip his waist, dragging him back into every thrust. I don’t hold back. He doesn’t want soft, he wantsowned. And I give it to him.

I fuck him like it’s what I was born to do—like every part of him was made for me. Every thrust drives a sound out of him, some garbled mess of praise and profanity. I stop fucking into him and I lean forward, one hand fisting in his hair as I yank his head back.

“I’m not moving,” I growl. “Not until you say who this ass belongs to.”

Sage laughs, short and ragged. “Make me say it.”