Page 14 of Want Me
“Just wait, you’re going to blow like Vesuvius.”
“Sounds like that’d solve my issue with that stupid philosophy paper, so I’m all for it.”
He chuckled and shifted, moving to my back once more, where he reached around, gripping my cock and stroking it again. He pulled his finger out of my hole, circled the sensitive, bunched skin, then scraped his thumbnail over it. Lightly, so fucking lightly that my ass couldn’t decide if it was being teased or punished.
Then he plunged in deep again. Over and over. Both of his hands moved in unison, tandem jolts of electricity sizzling up my spine and threatening to wreck me. My hips jerked forward and rocketed back, trying to thrust into his hand and simultaneously spear myself on his finger. I squirmed, wiggled, rocked, and Eric kept on, giving me just barely enough.
“You’re losing it, aren’t you?”
“You noticed?” I panted, sarcasm thick on my tongue. His thumb circled the head of my cock and teased my slit, and I shook my head. My stomach was knotted with need, and sweat was starting to drip down my temples.
“You need more?” I didn’t look at him, but I knew he’d be smiling.
“You already know I do, asshole.”
He smacked his dick against my ass and leaned in, nipping my earlobe. “You want this?”
I didn’t know how I felt about the earlobe nipping, but my dick sure as hell liked what he said.
I groaned. I didn’t and I did with such ferocity I couldn’t even begin to articulate it. A tendril of shame at howmuchI wanted him roiled through me before I shoved it away and steeled my jaw.
“Yeah, give it to me.”
“Mmm,” he rumbled low, a sound that was almost affectionate, and he pushed up the back of my shirt, stroking his fingers up my spine until I felt the tension in my shoulders relax and I was writhing again. “You look so fucking delicious like this. Your gorgeous back curled over, your ass pushing against me, wanting it, ready for me.”
He gave my bare cheek a light smack that made me jump, and then I heard him rustling around, foil tearing. “C’mere.” He planted his hands on my hips and guided me in a shuffle to the end of the shelf, turning me so I faced it and could brace my hands on either side for more support.
“This way you won’t set off a domino effect when I’m pounding that tight hole,” he explained, and just when I opened my mouth to suggest he consider not pounding me hard enough to topple bookcases, his fingers buried themselves in my crack again, hot and slick with lube, and I lurched. His left hand, also lube slick, draped around my waist and took up my cock, and I was so grateful for the easy slip of his hand that my thighs started quivering as he pumped me a few times.
“Feels good, huh?”
I didn’t answer, couldn’t answer, because my jaw was clenched solid as his fingers slid up and down the crack of my ass, taunting my hole, flicking it, rubbing my taint and plucking at the base of my balls. My breath came in shallow hitches, and I finally dropped my forehead to rest against the shelf, pushing my ass out in the air and giving it over to him. Surrender.
The sound of his laughter coiled around me, like he was having a grand old time driving me to the end of my fraying rope. He let go of my cock, spreading my cheeks, and his thumbs coaxed my hole in unison. My whole body was on the precipice of euphoria. His foot nudged mine.
“Wider.”
I adjusted my stance slightly, the elastic waistband of my shorts maxing out over my thighs, and he let out a hiss of sound.
“Goddamn, that’s hot.”
His thumbs circled my hole with more pressure, setting the sensitive skin on fire, and then he pushed them inside. More filling than just one, the collaboration did nothing for the burn. I felt his lips trip up my spine, and soon I was pushing back against him again, fucking his fingers when they replaced his thumbs.
“Perfect,” he whispered. “You ready for me now?”
“Fuck yes.” I was more than ready. I was like a meth head, ready to rip off my own skin just to spite the itch.
He rubbed the head of his cock against my hole a few times until I was practically trying to impale myself on it, except the hand he’d put on my hip kept preventing me.
And then, thank fuck, he was pushing inside me. The burn tore through me, making me wince. So…not as ready as I’d thought I was. He knew that, too, and stroked my hip with his free hand, then brought it up to my shoulder, squeezing the muscles before he pushed in deeper. I let out a muted moan both for the pain and the way he was filling me. Relief and torture at once. He filled me slowly, in little half steps that made me sweat even more. His hand continued to knead my shoulder soothingly. And once he was all the way in, I felt the weight of his body drape over me, his right hand dropping low to splay over my abdomen. My six-pack rippled underneath his touch, and there was possession in the way he stroked over the muscles and held me that I loved. As much as I didn’t want to.
“So fucking tight,” he whispered. “Need a second or I’m gonna be a two-pump chump.”
“Doesn’t seem fair after the shit you’ve been putting me through.”
“It doesn’t, does it?” He sounded amused. “But don’t worry, it’s not gonna go down that way at all. You’re gonna wanna gnaw through the shelf.”
I didn’t really know what he meant until he pulled all the way out of me, then slammed back in with a grunt. I yelped and another vehementshhh!sounded from through the shelves.