Thank you, god of orgasms.
Before I know what he’s planning, my face is pressed against the tile, my knees are on the bench and his erection is a hot brand against the curve of my ass. Michael has moves, and I’m so thankful I want to cry or make him pizza rolls when this is over.
“You touch me like that, lower my defenses, and now you want me to fuck you?”
“Yes,” I gasp. “I need it.”
“Not as much as I do.”
He disappears long enough for me to hear the basket upending on the counter, and then he’s boxing me in with his powerful body, trapping me against the wall.
Cool, thick liquid drips between the cheeks of my ass and I almost sob in relief, tilting my hips back. “Yes, Michael.”
He scrapes his beautiful beard along my shoulder to whisper in my ear as two fingers probe my ass. “I wanted to go slow when we finally did this. To watch your face when I got inside you for the first time, so we’d both know it wasn’t another dream.”
He bites my neck, his fingers sliding deep without hesitation.
“Fuck,” I shout, my breath fogging the tile I’m clinging to.
“Jesus, youaretight,” he mutters against my ear. “I used to jack off in showers like this one, imagining how you’d feel around me, but it never came close, did it? My fist never squeezed me this good.”
I nod and make unintelligible noises as he pumps and scissors those long, callused fingers inside me.
“You’re still recovering. I thought slow and easy would be better. Making you come with my mouth and hands. But you want hard and fast against a slippery wall. Is this what happens in those books you read? Is this what you want?”
“Yes. That’s what I w-want.” He curves the fingers inside me and rubs my prostate once. Just once. Cruel tease. “Now would be good.”
“Any other demands, Win? You want to hear me speaking Turkish again? Want to sit on my lap and call me a pub beast?”
“No.” My erection is slipping up and down the porcelain wall. “Just you, Michael. I just want you.”
His fingers are gone and, after I hear the sound of him opening a condom and slipping it on, the wide head of his cock replaces them, pushing inside. Forcing a stretch with a low groan of pleasure that’s so good I can’t catch my breath.
“My Win,” he rasps hotly against my cheek. “I knew. From the second I saw you, I knew.”
What did he know? That I was his? Or that the world would shift on its axis with the first stroke of his cock? That I wouldfeel impaled and destroyed and changed with every punishing, jarring jolt of his hips?
He spreads my knees farther apart with his thighs, one broad palm on my stomach and the other braced against my hip, and I can’t think. Can’t find my balance. My fingers claw at the wall, at the air, reaching back for his hips, desperate for something solid to hang on to.
Sex isn’t like this. It doesn’t feel this good. It doesn’t mean this much. “Michael.”
“I’m here.” He pulls me closer, wrapping me up tight in his arms as he gives me what I want. “I’ve got you. Finally got you. I need to— Win, tell me you’re with me. Tell me you can take what I need to give you.”
I feel my head shaking, but I still say, “Yes. Everything. Anything.”
His next thrust slaps our flesh together and my shout echoes off the walls. He does it again, harder this time. He breaks up the rhythm, stopping between strokes to grind against my ass, as if he can’t get deep enough.
Every time I get close, he changes the swivel of his hips, the speed of his strokes. He waits until I’m gasping and crying his name before he finds that spot that makes me see stars and clench around him. “Fuck.Right there. Please, Michael.”
“That’s what you need, baby?”
He shifts my body, angling his thrust to hit it again, and I moan raggedly. “Please, don’t stop again. I need to come.”
He grunts with his next forceful stroke. “I’ll never stop, Win. Not until I know every button to push, every sound you make and what it means. You’ll be teaching me until I’m an expert on this body. The only one you’ll reach for whenever you need to feel good again.”
I must say something coherent in the affirmative, because he praises me and his hand slides down my stomach to wraparound my leaking shaft. He starts to stroke me in time with his thrusts. “I love your cock. Love how it feels in my hand, in my mouth.”
I’m a fan of his too, but I don’t have the breath left to tell him that.
