Page 42 of Into the Dark
“Did you eat something tonight?” he asks, a frown etched across his mouth.
I sigh. “Jake, there’s only one thing I want to eat right now, and you’ve been frustrating me with it for over twenty-four hours.” I reach out and manage to graze my hand across the underside of his cock before he pulls back, out of my reach.
A strange, sadistic sort of smile replaces his frown. Then he reaches down and wraps his own hand around the base of his cock. “This what you’re talking about, baby?” With his eyes on mine he begins to move his fist up and down, stroking himself. When a deeply pleasured groan breaks out of his throat I gasp quietly and bite my lip hard.
“Jake,” I warn.
“All I want to know is what you ate tonight. That’s it.”
“Mushroom bloody risotto. Now stop that and fuck me, please.”
The smirk that overcomes his face is almost as debilitating as what his hand is doing. Almost.
“Does this turn you on baby?” he asks. “Watching me play with my cock.”
I swallow, breathless again. “You know it does.”
He fists himself a little faster, swiping his thumb over the head, letting out small grunts of pleasure as he does. I kick the duvet off and down the bed so I have a better view of him on his side, knee bent, gaze burning down on me while he moves his hand slowly over his cock. I press my mouth to his throat, close to his ear.
“You’re a bloody sadist,” I whisper, pressing my thighs together in desperation. I need to feel something, anything, against me there.
He lowers his head and ghosts his lips over mine. “You’re wet, and I can feel the heat of your cunt from here.”
Oh my god. “Jake, please,” I plead.
“Are you not enjoying this?”
“I…yes…but…god, please, I need you.” When I reach forward to try to touch him again he moves over me quickly, grabbing my wrists to pin them above my head. He manages to work his forearm over both my wrists, pressing down so that he’s only using one arm to hold me in position.
Then he brings his free hand down between his legs and takes hold of his cock again, kneeing my legs open wider. When I feel him begin to stroke me with the tip my eyes widen, a pathetically desperate moan bubbling up from my throat. He traces it up and down before dipping it inside me ever so slightly. I whimper again, pleading with my eyes and mouth and body, but he only pins me down harder and resumes playing with me again: finger then cock, and then finger and then cock, his mouth kissing away any protests, licking away my demands.
“What did you eat again, baby?” he says, dipping inside me again.
What the hell did I eat? Why can’t I think of any food? Why can’t I think of anything beyond the heat and scent of his body and the weight of it pressed on top of mine? Why can’t I focus on anything except the delicate strokes of his cock against me?
I rack my brain. “Risotto.” It sounds ridiculous. That word in this context. The word will never sound the same again.
With a slight nod and a crooked smile on his face he slides two fingers all the way inside me. I moan in pleasure and relief, my body spreading open for him. It’s not enough, but it’s close. So, so close.
“Did it taste good?” he asks, eyes glinting with mischief again.
Not wanting to get into another round of this torture I nod immediately. “It did.”
“Did it taste as good as this?” He removes his fingers from inside me, and suddenly they’re in my mouth. Sweet, warm, wet, and Jake is what I taste as he pushes them against my tongue. He watches me intently as I flick my tongue across his fingers before he slowly withdraws them. “Well? Did it?” He smirks.
“Nothing I cook tastes very good, Jake. You should probably know that about me right now,” I laugh breathlessly.
He grins. “Yeah, well, you do taste fucking amazing. Pretty hard to beat, to be fair.” He lowers his head and kisses me hard, the pressure on my arms lifting a fraction. I feel him spread me open with hot, wet fingers before he finally and deliciously slides inside.
I gasp at the size of him, so big after so long. When he pulls out to thrust back in, I moan loudly. It seems to come from lower down, from my chest, near my heart, and it sings out of my throat from my mouth to his. He holds me in place as he begins to move—slow, deep thrusts of his body into mine.
“Fuck, baby,” he moans, kissing me deep as he withdraws and pushes into me again.
“Jake, oh my god.”
“I missed you so fucking much, Alex. So much, baby.”
“Please let me touch you,” I whisper.
