Page 4

I nip Devon’s ear, savoring the feel of his slender body entwined with mine as he catches his breath. He fits like the perfect inside spoon, as if made just for me. “You did so well.”

He tenses in my arms, and before I can question it, he jerks away. “I didn’t want to . . . do that.”

What the fuck. After turning him onto his back, I cup his chin, trying to meet his downcast eyes. “What do you mean you didn’t want to do that?”

Devon glares up at me now, a storm swirling in those dark depths. “Wasn’t supposed to feel good! I just wanted food—”

My mind is spinning trying to make sense of his words. “You didn’t want it to feel good?”

“Shut up.”

He pulls out of my embrace and turns away, a deep flush rising from his neck to his cheeks.

I rub the back of my neck, conflicting emotions are at war inside me.

One part happily focusing on the fact Devon admitted I made him feel good, the other angry and confused at why that’s causing his entire body to radiate discomfort.

As if somewhere in his mind pleasure is a bad thing. And that doesn’t sit right with me.

I move closer, pulling on his shoulder until he’s flat on his back once again, then lean over him. “There’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

He huffs.

“Devon, sex is supposed to feel good. If it doesn’t then something’s wrong.”

When he rolls his eyes I swipe a hand through his release on his stomach, bringing my slick fingers to his lips. “Taste.”

He turns his head, blushing fiercely. Maybe his initial reaction is from being embarrassed. Or just defiant since that seems to be his default. Didn’t take long for me to peg him as a brat.

So, I let a few seconds pass before trying again and swiping one finger against his lips. This time he tentatively swipes his tongue out.

“That’s it. Taste what pleasure feels like.”

I work the finger slowly into his mouth until he’s sucking eagerly, then withdraw to swipe more and push two fingers back in.

His lips seal around them as I pump them slowly. “You were made to give and receive pleasure.”

I want him to know, no matter what shit the world’s come to, everyone deserves to experience pleasure.

He stops sucking for a moment, body tense, his thin brows furrowed, as if my words are somehow alien.

Or wrong.

Something inside my chest twists and I brush my thumb along his bottom lip. “Nothing wrong with this. Understand me?”

Instead of agreeing he goes back to sucking the cum off my fingers, as if trying to silence whatever’s going on in his head.

I scoot forward, pressing my body against his, driven by a need to comfort and protect him. “That’s my good boy.”

After a few minutes his gaze is unfocused, body loose, and he lets out a long moan that calls out to the primal part of me.

My hand travels down, sliding across his abs down to his inner thigh. I pull his leg over my hip then my fingers slip between his cheeks. “You felt so good stretched around my tip. Can’t wait to fully claim you. To fuck you deep.”

He quivers against me as I work him open, pushing my cum back inside. When he’s relaxed I withdraw my fingers, then reposition so I’m kneeling between his splayed thighs. I push his knees up and tease my swollen tip down his crease, before I start to nudge against his sloppy rim. “Ready?”

He takes a deep breath, then nods.

“You sure?”

“Old man, your sight going? I nodded. But since you may need glasses . . . yes.”

“Such a brat.”

I press in slowly, groaning as his tight heat envelops me. “That’s it, bear down and open up.”

He whimpers, inner muscles fluttering as I sink deeper, and he grabs onto my biceps, nails digging into my skin as he squeezes with bruising strength.

“That’s it, Devon. You’re doing so well.”

Once fully seated, I start a measured pace, snapping my hips harder. The headboard slaps out my relentless rhythm as I drive into him, our slick skin bonding us as one.

I fuck him deep and thorough, drunk on his smothering heat, every thrust calling my release. My gaze locks onto his face, on the way his lips are parted, on the way he arches and grasps at the sheets.

Gone is whatever caused him distress, and if fucking him like this keeps it away, I’ll gladly keep doing it.

Eventually I slow to a deep grind, pushing his knees wider. “Look at that pretty hole stretched around me.”

I swivel my hips, stroking over his sweet spot until he chokes out desperate moans, moans that make my cock ache, knowing I’m the cause of such a delicious sound. But they also awaken something possessive in me that doesn’t ever want him to make those sounds for anyone else.

They're for me, and me alone.

“Looks like I found your prostate. Makes you feel so good, doesn’t it?”

I nail it again with targeted thrusts, punching out shocked cries.

When he snakes his hand down to stroke his leaking cock, I slap it away. “Not yet. I want to play with this toy you’ve just discovered you have.”

I strike his prostate relentlessly as he tosses his head side to side, moaning, gasping, begging. “P-Please . . .Too much. I-I can’t . . .”

I slow my pace, letting him catch his breath, and he shudders, fresh slick leaking from his swollen head onto his stomach.

Once his breath steadies, I wrap a hand around him, pumping steadily in time with my thrusts.

“Good boy. Give into the pleasure.”

I twist my fist on the upstroke, wringing another moan from his lips, the sound so deep, so intoxicating, my balls rise up and tighten as a heady tingling release builds and builds.

His hands twist in the sheets, muscles contracting. Right as he’s about to peak, I stop moving and pull out. I’m not nearly through with him.

He sobs, desperately humping the air, and tries once again to touch himself.

“You’ll come when I’m done taking what I want.”

I flip him onto his stomach, pulling his hips up so his ass is in the air, then gathering both wrists in one hand, pin them to the small of his back.

My boy is a brat, and while he may be struggling with some aspects of feeling pleasure, he’s also defiant. “Behave or you don’t get to come at all.”

He stills, whimpering as I push back inside in one long thrust and groan at his velvety, hot grip. The perfect fit. Definitely made just for me.

“Fuck yourself on my cock.”

He hesitates, eyes glazed, as if his mind misfires. So I reach under him and squeeze his weeping length. “Do it. Show me you want this.”

Slowly, he complies, rocking into my palm, working himself between my fist and cock. His willingness continues to fan my possessive flames.

“That’s it. Just like that.”

He bounces desperately, forehead against the mattress as he fucks himself on me—forward into my tight grip, then back to impale himself again.

“Look at you, so hungry for it.”

I nip his shoulder hard enough to leave indents, but not enough to bruise.

He sobs, muscles quivering from the strain. But he doesn’t stop, spearing himself relentlessly on my cock, desperately chasing the edge.

I deny him again at the last second. “Not until I say.”

Ignoring his pleas, I use his body roughly, rutting into his clenching hole as my own peak reaches a height I know will leave me in tatters when I give in.

With a final bruising snap of my hips, I push as deep as I can get and come, claiming him utterly in this moment. “Mine. You’re mine, Devon.”

I fist his weeping cock. It’s so stiff now, when he moans, there’s a sharp edge of pain ringing throughout. I increase my pace, then cup his balls with my free hand.

He unleashes an ear-splitting wail when I squeeze them and spills over my hand that continues working him until I’ve wrung out every last drop of his pleasure.

“That’s my good boy. My perfect boy.”

I pet his sweat-soaked hair as I keep our bodies locked together. He shivers and whimpers softly under me.

Devon submitted and I conquered. A simple transaction, yet so much more, because I don’t think I can leave him. Don’t think this is just a one night thing.

Or at least I don’t want it to be.

As we drift off, still entwined, a small voice whispers, “This is dangerous. I’m a lone wolf. Attachment only impedes survival.”

But the primal part of me snarls in defiance, tightening our embrace.

For tonight at least, he is mine to protect, mine to sate.

Tomorrow I’ll worry about the rest.