Page 18 of These Hallowed Bones (Bloody Desires #3)

Micah

In the bedroom, Ezra opened a sleek black case from the closet. Inside, nestled in velvet, lay a row of toys arranged by size—small to formidable—alongside a bottle of lubricant. My stomach fluttered with nervous anticipation.

“We’ll have to train your body to take me,” he said, tone clinical but warm. “We’ll start small. Ease you in.”

He set the case on the nightstand, and I started to unbutton my shirt.

“Let me,” he said, gently brushing my hands aside.

He undressed me slowly, methodically. When I was naked, he stepped back and looked. Not with hunger, but with reverence. His gaze traced me from head to toe and back again.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, and began to undress.

I watched, transfixed. Each inch of skin revealed made my mouth dry with want. When he stood fully naked before me, I finally saw what I’d only felt: the lean muscle of his thighs, the smooth plane of his stomach, the heavy curve of his cock resting between his legs.

He took my hand and led me to the bed. Propped against the headboard, he guided me to lie across his lap. One arm supported my head, the other rested on my hip.

The heat of his skin against mine was dizzying. My side was pressed flush to his chest, cock brushing the firm plane of his stomach. Sensitive skin to sensitive skin. Intimate. Exposed. Electric.

Without waiting for permission, I brought my mouth to his nipple. It responded instantly beneath my tongue, tightening as I suckled. The rhythm came instinctively—primal, grounding, like muscle memory older than thought.

Ezra looked down at me, eyes dark with something between hunger and tenderness."That’s it," he murmured, stroking my hair. "So beautiful like this."

His free hand roamed in slow, aimless patterns—over my shoulder, my ribs, the hollow of my waist. Every touch sent electricity skimming across my skin.

"Your body is sacred," he whispered, voice low like a prayer. "Do you know that? Every inch of you is holy ground."

Words that would’ve made my grandmother recoil. Words that felt truer than any sermon I’d ever heard.

His touch drifted lower, over the curve of my ass, possessive and reverent in equal measure. I moaned around his nipple, mouth working harder, caught in the rising tide of want.

"God made this body," Ezra said, his fingers sliding down the back of my thigh, then up again, teasing closer. "Made it for pleasure. For worship. Anyone who told you differently was wrong."

When his hand finally cupped my cock, I gasped against his skin. He didn’t stroke. Just held me there, like I was something precious.

"Look at you," he said, gaze full of awe. "So proud. So perfect. There’s not a single part of you that isn’t worthy of love."

The words themselves were almost as arousing as the touch. To hear parts of me that had only ever been shamed now celebrated made my whole body ache.

His thumb circled the head of my cock before giving me one unhurried stroke from base to tip, coaxing a needy sound from my throat. I whimpered against his chest, still suckling but now distracted, hips moving of their own accord.

"That’s it," he murmured. "Show me. Let me see what you like."

His other hand wandered, trailing from my hair down my spine, then curving forward to toy with my nipple. The light pinch sent a bolt of pleasure straight to my cock, sharp and bright.

"Your body is a temple," Ezra said, his voice thicker now, roughened by desire. "And I intend to worship properly."

He palmed my balls gently next, his fingers weighing them like something fragile and precious.

"These aren’t a weakness," he whispered. "They’re your power. Life lives here." His fingers moved in lazy circles, caressing tender skin that made me tremble. "Your seed is sacred, Micah. A gift. When you give it to me, it’s an offering. A form of praise more honest than any psalm."

He rolled them slowly between his fingers, the tender pressure making me moan. The way he handled me—like my pleasure was holy drew me deeper into the trance of it all.

"Never be ashamed of what your body gives," he said, eyes on mine. "Your cum is your prayer. Your ecstasy, your confession."

His hand returned to my cock, stroking once. Firm, reverent, claiming.

"Your body is a revelation," he murmured. "And I was made to worship it."

When his fingertips finally reached my entrance, circling the tight ring of muscle without penetrating, I moaned loudly around his nipple.

There was a faint ache from the night before, not quite soreness but enough to remind me how much I had already given him.

The gentle pressure promised more to come, a future of pleasures I had been taught were forbidden.

"This is a holy place too," he said, his finger pressing slightly, not entering but making his presence known. "There's nothing sinful about pleasure, Micah. Nothing dirty about desire."

His words washed over me like a benediction, baptizing me in a new gospel. One that sanctified what had been condemned, that blessed what had once been cursed. I sucked harder at his nipple, desperate to draw more of him into me, to take more, to be closer.

"We'll explore all of it," he promised, still circling my entrance while his other hand continued to stroke my cock. "Every inch of your body will know pleasure. Every part of you will be worshipped as it deserves."

He reached for the lubricant, coating his fingers in a generous layer before returning to me. This time the pressure came with intent. The tip of his finger breached me slowly, deliberately. I tensed on instinct, then remembered his instructions from the night before.

"Breathe," he reminded me. "Push out against me."

I obeyed, focusing on relaxing the muscles that wanted to seize around him. His finger slid inside, the stretch sharper than I remembered, but not unwelcome. The ache melted into something deeper as he found that place inside me, the one that made everything else fall away.

His hand on my cock, his finger moving inside me, the way he touched me like I was sacred—each sensation built on the last until the pleasure turned sharp around the edges.

"That's it," he murmured, voice rich with approval. "Your body knows what it needs."

He worked me open slowly, adding a second finger only when I was ready. The stretch burned at first, but he was careful, scissoring them apart. I cried out against his chest and clung to him tighter.

When he introduced a small vibrator, my body tensed. It looked harmless enough in his hand, but my entrance clenched instinctively at the sight of it.

"This will prepare you," Ezra said, his voice a low rumble near my ear. "It’s different from fingers. More intense."

The cool silicone pressed against me, startling in contrast to the warmth of his hands.

My breath caught as the smooth, unyielding head began to breach me.

The stretch was immediate. It didn’t mold to me like his fingers had.

This was firmer, demanding my body adjust to it instead of the other way around.

"Oh God," I gasped, nails digging crescents into his shoulder. "It’s so... different."

"Breathe through it," he murmured, pushing it in slowly. "Your body will learn."

The fullness was sharp at first, almost too much. The toy reached places his fingers hadn’t, and my muscles fluttered between resistance and surrender.

"Good boy," he said, once it was seated fully inside me. The praise soothed the burn, anchoring me.

"Now," he added, with a note of anticipation in his voice, "let’s see how you respond to this."

The first vibration pulsed through me like lightning. My back arched, and a strangled cry ripped from my throat. What had been a passive presence inside me suddenly came alive, humming straight against that sacred spot he’d touched before.

"FUCK!" The word tore out of me, raw and involuntary. My body convulsed against him, overwhelmed. The sensation rode every nerve ending. My cock jerked without warning, smearing pre-cum across my stomach in thick, desperate pulses. I hadn’t even been touched.

"Too much?" Ezra asked, his voice thick with arousal.

"No, yes, I don't... I can't... please don't stop," I gasped, the words tumbling out, barely intelligible under the weight of sensation. The vibrator pressed mercilessly against that inner spot, each pulse unraveling my thoughts.

"Focus, sweet boy. Come back to me," Ezra said gently, guiding my head to his chest. "Here. Let this help ground you."

I latched onto his nipple, desperate for an anchor. The rhythm of suckling steadied me, just enough to keep me from slipping under. The taste, the warmth, the familiarity of it helped me hold on.

"That’s it," he praised, and began moving the toy in shallow thrusts. "I’m going to fuck you with this now. Let your body learn how to receive."

Each push coaxed new sparks from my core, spreading outward like fire through dry grass. My cock lay flush against my belly, hard and pulsing, untouched but desperate.

"Touch yourself," Ezra said, one hand stroking my hair. "Show me how you find pleasure. There’s nothing dirty in what feels good."

My hand trembled as I reached for my cock. The old voices hissed in the back of my mind, whispering shame.

"Touch your cock for Daddy," he said again, more firmly now. The warmth in his voice didn’t soften the command. "Let me see you take pleasure while I'm inside you. Be a good boy and show me."

The gentle command in his voice sent a shiver through me. I wrapped my hand around my cock, and the jolt of sensation made me sob into his skin. I stroked in rhythm with the toy inside me, my mouth still latched to his nipple like it was the only thing keeping me tethered.

“Beautiful,” Ezra murmured, pushing the vibrator deeper. “This toy is smaller than my cock. When I finally take you, you’ll be stretched even more.”

The thought made my hips jerk. I couldn’t imagine more than what was already inside me, couldn’t picture taking something larger, but the way he said it—like a promise, not a threat—made me want it anyway.