“Probably. We can try that out another time.”
All these promises of more times together are exciting me as much as him fucking my ass with his fingers. They’re slippery with spit, and I’ve loosened up enough that nothing is holding him back from pegging me hard.
Then he adds a third.
The stretch this time is indescribable. I’m light-headed with how amazing I feel, and I’m finding it difficult to catch hold of any one thought other thanyes, yes, fucking yes.
This time, I don’t bother to try and hold in the moan. I push back against him, almost riding his hand as I fuck into my fist, discovering for the first time that I don’t think I’ve ever had sex properly. It’s only been half the experience. My dick getting all the action while I had a hidden fun zone that I never knew anything about, and now that I do … St. Clare better be ready for how insatiable I’m about to become.
God, I need more. His cock, preferably. Being forced open around his dick, wider than I am now, fuller than I’ve ever been? That shouldn’t make my limbs tremble the way they’re trembling, but it’s a good sign I’m not going to last like this much longer.
St. Clare peels himself away from me, free hand gripping my ass and spreading it apart. “Fuck, that’s hot. You like me inside you?”
“Yes. Who the fuck knew it felt like this?”
“Every single person who’s into ass play.”
“Smart-ass.”
He brings awhackdown on my bare ass check. “You were saying?”
The sting hurts, but somehow, I want more. Fuck. What the hell is this? Is it crack? Sex crack? I grip myself tighter as I jerk off, rocking onto his fingers and wishing they were fatter. Deeper. “Give me your cock.”
St. Clare makes a choking noise. “No.”
“But—”
“If you were experienced, spit would be enough, but I’m not fucking you without lube.”
I groan out my complaint. “I’m okay with a little pain.”
“Nope.”
“But—”
He chuckles, filthy and raspy and too much for my tiny brain. “I’ve got something to keep you going.”
That gets my interest until he pulls his fingers out, leaving me empty and stretched and desperate for more.
Then I hear the zip of his pants, and before I can beg for hisfingers back, something smooth, hot, and sticky with precum skims over my hole.
My head drops back as St. Clare rubs his cock over my entrance. He’s leaking as much as I am, and the sounds of his labored breathing and jerking off fill my head. I’m still empty, I still want more, but the tease of him so close to where I want him to be is spurring me on.
“I want to fuck you too,” he breathes. “It’s so hard not to just push inside you right now.”
“Do it, then. I dare you.”
His raspy chuckle tugs at something deep in my gut. “Behave.”
“Not possible.” My hand keeps flying over my cock, tip extra sensitive and ready to come. So, so ready. “You’re scrambling my brain.”
The low hum is dangerous as he drags the tip of his cock back and forward over my hole. It’s slippery as he rubs precum into my skin, and his lips fall right by my ear. “You’re a whore for it, aren’t you? You’d let me stick it in. Even if it hurt.”
Somehow, my brain gets scramblier. I’m sweating and heated from the inside out. “Do it.”
“God, you’re even begging for it.”
What else would I be doing? I’m so frustratingly empty, it feels like a waste. A waste for him not to use me and make us both feel good in the process. Holy shit, I’m clawing out of my skin here, and the tease of him right where I want him is too much.
