Page 113 of Himbo Hitman
I don’t realize St. Clare has followed me until his warm hand presses against my lower back, encouraging me to arch forward more. Then, his fingertips brush over my hole.
I jolt but strangle my cry before it can leave me. “Oh, fuck.”
His chuckle is sinful. “Like that?”
“Surprisingly, I think I did. Hard to tell though. Might need more.”
“More?” His fingers skim my opening again, and the buzz it ignites is incredible.
“No one’s ever touched me there before last night.”
“I got that impression, yeah.” He’s smiling as he leans in and licks my neck. “It does something to me, you know. Knowing I’m the first. That I get to train your hole and show it everything it’s been missing. I’m going to have it so fucking desperate to take a cock that you’ll be begging me to fuck you every time you see me.”
I reach out and grip the rough tree to try and stay upright. St. Clare’s words have me doubting my legs to do their job. “You’re going to … train me?” My cock feels impossibly hard at the thought. Shouldn’t that be something that turns meoff? Not makes me want to risk splinters by humping the tree just to get some fucking relief.
“Do you not want me to?”
“No, no.” I shake my head to exclamation point my answer. “I’m ready. Just clarifying.”
He makes a line of wet kisses down to my shoulder, then pulls his hand away, and I hear him spit. “You’re going to be so greedy for it.”
When his fingers find my hole again, I rub back against them. Joke’s on St. Clare because I’m already greedy for anything he’ll give me. He doesn’t need to train me on it when I come with a built-inSt. Clare simpupgrade. Whatever he wants, I want it too. The thought of being fucked is … weird. How does it work? Will it hurt? Is there anything I need to do to prepare? Should I?—
St. Clare’s finger presses inside and cuts off every word I’ve ever thought. It’s only the tip at first. A gentle stroke in and out that I get used to faster than I would have assumed I would. It feels … nice. It actually feels nice. This pleasant hum of something that I relax into.
“There you go,” he encourages before sucking my on neck.
Every pass of his finger has me sinking into the feeling. My shoulder is aching, but even that doesn’t register when St. Clare leans back to spit on my hole and this time presses his finger all the way inside.
The intrusion makes me feel full, and the pressure in my balls really, really likes it. If this is one finger, how much more can I take? Two? Three? His cock? That’s what we’re aiming for eventually, I guess, but it almost feels impossible. Like I’m already maxed out. But I want to try.
His finger presses in deep before pulling back and doing it again. And again. The more he does it, the more I like it, and surprisingly, it hasn’t hurt once. My dick is so fucking hard, and for some reason, the whole idea of being half-naked and exposed is really doing it for me.
“God, I wish this was my cock,” he says.
I sort of wish that too, but he was right before. I don’t think I could have taken it. All I know is that this,thisis good. Great. Exactly what I need. “Give me more.”
“You sure?”
“Only one way to find out.”
St. Clare huffs a laugh. “Perry?—”
“I know, I know, you need me to be sure. But I need you to trust me, and when I say I think I’m good, it’s because I want to try it, but I might change my mind. And I’ll let you know if that happens.”
“Promise?”
“Have you ever known me to keep quiet about something?”
“Good point.” He leans back to spit again, and fuck me. I’m even tuned in to that too. His fingers massage my rim, softening it, preparing me, and then he sinks two of them inside.
Fuuuck me.
There’s a stretch. Not painful but definitely weird. He’s breaking down everything I ever knew, and as he pumps his fingers into me, I’m high on it. Buzzing. Every little nerve prickling alive and sending all very, very good messages to my brain. My cock is leaking, tiny beads of precum appearing at the tip with every pass of his fingers deep inside me. Like there’s a flip switch that goes from his fingers to my balls, and he keeps pressing and prodding and reminding me that I’m helpless when it comes to him.
“How does it feel?”
“Good. Too good.” I let out the groan that I’ve been trying to hold back and move my weight onto my non-injured arm. The bullet hole twinges as I reach down and wrap my hand around my cock. “I think you could probably make me come just from doing that,” I say, stroking myself.
