Page 95 of Stolen Harmony

I whimpered, mouth full of his cock, the dual sensations overwhelming—his mouth on me, my mouth on him, the feedback loop of want and worship and need.

I let spit and precome drip down onto his balls, licking them, sucking one into my mouth, rolling it with my tongue before trailing back up to swallow him again. He responded inkind, hand sliding up my back, gripping my hips, holding me steady as he sucked me deep, tongue swirling, lips tight.

We lost ourselves in it, bodies rocking, hips grinding, moans muffled by skin and sweat and the relentless, wet heat of each other’s mouths.

Suddenly, Elias pulled back, spit-slick and flushed, hands gripping my hips like he was trying to anchor himself. He stared up at me, eyes wild and hungry—starved, almost desperate, all his careful self-control burned away. I barely had time to catch my breath before he grabbed me, muscles flexing, and lifted me clean off the bed.

I yelped in surprise, laughing breathlessly as he manhandled me, hauling me up against his chest, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. His hands slid under my thighs, holding me up like I weighed nothing at all, like I was made for him.

“Fuck, Elias—” I gasped, burying my hands in his hair, kissing him hard, biting at his bottom lip. He groaned, staggering toward the nearest wall, never breaking the kiss, never letting me go.

He slammed me up against the wall—gentle enough not to hurt, but rough enough to make me gasp, to make mefeelhow much he wanted me. My back hit the cool plaster, his body pinning me in place, his cock hot and heavy between us, leaking against my thigh.

He pressed his forehead to mine, breath ragged, hands everywhere—gripping my ass, squeezing, spreading, kneading me like he couldn’t get enough.

“You ready for me?” he growled, voice low and barely controlled. “You want it, baby?”

I nodded, grinding against him, the ache in me gone sharp and insistent. “God, yes. I’ve been ready all fucking night.”

He pressed a rough, worshipful kiss to my mouth, thentrailed his lips down my neck, biting at my shoulder, marking me as his.

“There’s lube in the bedside table,” I managed, voice breaking on a moan as his hand squeezed my ass, fingers brushing my hole, slick with spit but not nearly enough. “Need you to—fuck—need you to get me ready.”

He grunted, shifting me in his arms, then carried me—still impaled on his hips, still kissing me breathless—back to the bed. He set me down gently, like I was something precious, then leaned over, rummaging in the drawer until he found the bottle.

He slicked his fingers, kneeling between my spread thighs, and met my gaze, the question in his eyes unmistakable.

I nodded, legs open, greedy for him, shameless. “Please, daddy. Make me ready for you. Want to feel all of you.”

He groaned at the name, then slid his fingers back into me, slow and careful, working in one, then two, scissoring, stretching, opening me up. He watched every flicker of sensation on my face, checking for pain, learning how my body reacted, how my breath hitched and my hips rolled to take him deeper.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he rasped, “So perfect. Can’t wait to be inside you, baby. Can’t wait to ruin you.”

I moaned, pushing back against his hand, desperate. “Do it, daddy. Want to feel you. Want you to fuck me against the wall—want you to use me.”

He slicked his cock, eyes never leaving mine, then stood and lifted me again, pinning me back against the wall, my legs hooked around his waist, my hands braced on his shoulders.

“You sure?” he asked, voice shaking with restraint.

“More than sure,” I whispered, reaching down to guide him, lining him up. “Please, Elias. Now.”

He pressed the head of his cock against my entrance, slow and careful, the heat of him making me tremble, anticipation crackling between us like electricity.

He pushed in, just the tip at first, stretching me open, making me gasp at the delicious burn, the fullness. He froze, waiting, giving me time to adjust, his breath harsh against my cheek.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, hands gripping my ass, holding me in place as he slid deeper, inch by inch, until I was completely filled, until I could feel the heavy throb of him pulsing inside me.

The stretch was intense—almost overwhelming—but perfect. I clung to him, digging my nails into his back, head thrown back as he bottomed out, his hips pressed flush to mine.

“God, Elias—so fucking big—feels so good—” I gasped, every nerve ending on fire.

He shuddered, holding still, forehead pressed to my shoulder, fighting for control. “Tell me if it’s too much, baby. I don’t want to hurt you.”

I rolled my hips, grinning wickedly. “I can take it. I want all of you. Don’t hold back.”

That broke him—he pulled almost all the way out, then slammed back in, hard and deep, fucking me against the wall. The force of it knocked the breath out of me, made me see stars, made mefeelevery inch of him, every pulse, every claim.

He set a brutal, perfect rhythm, hips snapping forward, driving me up the wall, making me cry out, hands clinging to his shoulders, his back, anything I could grab. His hands gripped my ass, fingers digging in, spreading me wider, holding me open so he could watch himself slide in and out.