Page 11 of The Illusion of Power (Passion and Politics #1)
“Breathe,” he reminds me, running a soothing hand down my spine as he squeezes more lube between my cheeks. I push out a breath, and the exhalation relaxes me enough to ease his next advance.
Cal presses a prideful smile into my shoulder blade, rotating his wrist slowly even as he continues to work his fingers in and out of me. “That’s it. You’re doing such a good job, love. Fuck my hand so that I can fuck you.”
My head lolls forward, eyes rolling back as I rock back on his fingers, helping him reach the bundle of nerves inside of me that’s already swollen with arousal.
Cal curls his fingers inward, massaging the spot repeatedly until I’m lost, disappearing into the familiar haze of pleasure that has every muscle in my body floating on the edge of tension and relaxation.
It’s a familiar balance, one I know is necessary to achieve the goal Cal and I are working towards: our shared release.
“I’m ready, Cal. Please. Please ,” I plead, as another trickle of precum leaks out of me, adding to the rapidly growing puddle underneath me.
To my shock, and utter joy, he relents, kissing my shoulder as he removes his fingers and replaces them with the tip of his dick, giving me no warning before he pushes inside, seating himself in one stroke.
“FUCK!” I shout, rising up on my knees until my back is plastered to his chest. “The fuck do you have against issuing a word of warning?”
The bastard huffs out a laugh. “You said you were ready,” he breathes into my ear, ghosting his fingers over my hips and sides, kneading my flesh to encourage my muscles to relax while kissing up my shoulder and neck.
He’s not moving yet because he’s waiting for me to adjust to the feel of him inside of me.
Even with all the prep work, it still takes a second.
A result of infrequent indulgence, I guess.
Cal shifts, shoring up his stance, and when I tense again, dreading the bite of the next stroke as much as I’m looking forward to it, he pauses. “Do you want me to stop?”
Every cell in my body revolts at the thought of him leaving me like this. My dick hard, the head swollen, precum trailing down my shaft and balls onto the comforter under us, my mind fuzzy with lust.
“ Fuck no ,” I moan, forcing myself to relax into his hold. I don’t just want this. I need it, and I show Cal that by dropping back down onto my elbows, burying my face in pillows that smell like him and surrendering to the weight of his dick in my ass.
Cal grips my hips with sure hands and rears back, swinging forward in the very next second with enough force to knock me off balance.
Even though that wasn’t his intention, he takes full advantage of my prone position, using the new angle to hit the spot he was massaging with his fingers just minutes ago.
My lips part on a guttural moan that fills my mouth with Egyptian cotton and the smoked spice scent of my partner and best friend.
“Do you feel me, Beck?” he asks again, treating me to another jarring stroke. “I’m right here.”
Turning my head so my words aren’t muffled by the pillow, I nod. “I hear you”
I push back, meeting his next thrust with a smirk. “But if you want me to feel you, fuck me harder, Drake.”
My challenge is met exactly how I expect it to be.
With a feral growl and wicked words that accompany life-altering strokes that threaten to destroy me.
Cal chuckles darkly as I fight to return everything he’s giving me.
The force. The momentum. The sheer power of hips that won’t stop driving into me, even as my hands find purchase on the mattress, and I rise up on my knees, toes digging into the bedding as my feet come to rest on either side of Cal’s legs.
He bites down into the muscle between my shoulder and neck, reaching around to grab hold of my dick.
His thumb circles around my tip, gathering precum and spreading it around the flared head before dragging his fist down to my base and bringing it back up over and over again, somehow managing to match every roll of his hips with the stroke of his hand.
It’s a maddening layering of sensation. The constant press and glide of his dick.
The slip and slide of his hand. And the moans.
Our moans. Cal’s moans in my ear, his teeth nipping at my lobe.
My moans deep and desperate as he whispers, “I wish you could experience this. I wish you knew how fucking good you feel around me, how perfect it is when you let go and trust me to take care of you, to get you there. Keep trusting me, love,” he purrs, reminding me to relax as the promise of my release climbs up my spine and the twitching of Cal’s dick tells me his isn’t far behind.
I melt into his rhythm, letting every advance of his dick push mine into the tight grip of his fist, creating a circuit of pleasure that chews us up and spits us out in minutes.
I break first, painting the dark, luxurious fabric covering the pillows with long ropes of cum that start strong and then taper off, the last of it coating Cal’s fingers in messy streams that eventually end up on my hip.
The result of him forcing me back down and holding me still so he can pound out his release.
He comes inside me, the heat and force of his pleasure emphasized by a string of filthy curses that continue to spill past his lips even as he collapses on my back, panting.
I support his weight until he comes back to his senses and pulls out of me. We both groan at the slow drag of his spent dick over sensitive nerves. It feels good. Good enough to make me want to go again, but I know we won’t.
We never do.
That’s not how this thing between us works.
There are no second rounds, no cuddles, no aftercare.
There’s just this.
The heat of the moment and the cool vulnerability we’re left to sit in once it subsides.
The silence of cleaning off with warm, soapy wash cloths we only use on ourselves and the stripping of bedding soiled by desire.
The quiet slide of the nightstand drawer and the dull thud of the bottle of lube as it returns to its rightful place, waiting for the next time we break.
The imperceptible creak of the floorboards as we follow the trail of our clothes back through the house, returning to the kitchen as friends instead of lovers.