Page 96 of At Your Mercy

I pouted at the distance he’d put between us.

I huffed, just to make sure he knew of my frustration, then popped the lid of the bottle open, pouring a generous amount onto my cock.

Spreading my legs and raising my knees, I made sure Wes had an excellent view ofeverything.

“Fuck, babydoll,” he groaned, palming his hardening cock over his jeans.

I pumped my length a few times, my breath speeding up as I went. Wes’s eyes were glued to the movements of my hand.

I was used to being the center of attention, sure, but whereas most gazes made me itch to cover myself up, Wes’s made me want to put on a fucking show.

Biting my lip, I dragged my slick hand down to my tightly furled pucker. The moment I dipped a fingertip in, Wes’s pupils—or at least the one I could see— dilated. It was heady seeing the effect I had on him.

It was downright intoxicating.

I began to finger myself, never taking my eyes off his face. My other hand traveled down my abdomen, wrapping itself around my cock, matching the tempo of my fingers.

“God, Ro. Look at your perfect little hole. Fuck. I can’t believe something that tiny takes my cock. Such a hungry fucking hole, isn’t it?” Wes fished his cock out from his pants, and I whimpered at the sight of it. Precum glistened at his tip, suddenly making my mouth go dry with want.

My stupid fingers couldn’t reach as deep as I needed. I whined, looking up at him half-lidded.

“Please,” I breathed, overwhelmed with quivering need.

Wes sucked in a sharp breath. “Doll…”

“Please just fuck me, Wes!” I cried, my chest heaving as I continued thrusting my fingers as deep as I could—which again, wasn’t nearly enough. I was up to four, but somehow I knew that even if I shoved my entire fist in there, it wouldn’t satisfy me, because it wasn’t his fucking cock.

His throbbing, hot, deliciousfucking cock.

“You’re being a bad boy,” he teased.

“Just fucking fuck me, Wesley,” I hissed, tears beginning to leak from the corners of my eyes.

“I don’t know if I should…” He smirked.

“Wessss.”

“Ask me nicely, baby,” he said. “Do it politely. Say please.”

“Please fuck me,” I panted, writhing on the sheets.

“C’mon, you can do better than that, doll. Ask me to fuck your slutty hole. Tell me that it’s mine. Tell me that no one but me will ever have the pleasure of fucking it again. I own it. I own you.” Wes leaned over me and nipped at my inner thigh. He whispered, “Beg for me to use what belongs to me.”

My eyes rolled back in my head. One of these days, I bet he’d be able to bring me to orgasm just with his dirty talk alone.

“Please, Wes. Sir. Please fuck my slutty hole,” I moaned. “Please. It’s yours. All yours. My hole is yours. Everything is yours—you own my entire fucking being, Wes. Please use me, please, please, please,” I babbled, my tears clouding my vision.

Without warning, there was a sudden pressure on my rim. His hips punched forward, and I let out a silent scream.

I sobbed as he bottomed out. After a quick pause, he lowered his hips, grinding into me. His cock kissed the entrance to my colon, and I was fucking gone.

My vision whited out as shocks of pleasure raced up my spine. My hole clamped down around him, pulling moan after moan from his lips.

“Jesus, fuck, you’re going to strangle my dick,” he grunted. His thrusts continued, making me convulse with each touch to my prostate.

“You want my cum, doll? You want me to breed you? Make your hole all sloppy?”

“Yes—ahh, please! Please, I need it! Need it—”