Page 62
Goddamn, he’s gonna be the death of me.
“Perfect, keep grinding like that,” I murmur, voice low and commanding, laced with the ache I’ve carried for two fucking years.
I pull my zipper down with my free hand and yank my dick out impatiently. It springs free, heavy and flushed with precum glistening at the tip like an offering. My fist wraps around it tightly, and it pulls a hiss from deep in my throat.
I fist my dick harder, stroking to match his rhythm. Pre-cum drips hot from the slit, and it serves as lube for the rough contact. It feels so goddamn good because every pump is me thinking of him milking me dry.
“Are you thinking it’s me you’re fucking as you stroke yourself?” he asks, eyes glazed with ecstasy, voice a needy rasp. “If it’s someone else, I swear I’ll kill them.”
My lips curl into a smile before I can stop it. Good gracious, he’s a crazy motherfucker and fuck if it doesn’t make me want him more.
“Trust me, spitfire,” I say, stroking faster, my eyes locked on the screen where the massive dildo churns deep inside him. “The next time I see you, I’ll make sure to punish you for making me do this shit with you.”
“I never asked you to stroke your cock,” he teases, voice thick with arousal, hips rolling deliberately to taunt me as the dildo twists and grinds deep inside his hole. “I just asked you to watch me fuck myself while I think of you.”
He looks like he’s about to say more, lips parting, but then a deep moan escapes him, low and unguarded, his head tipping back as whatever control he had slips through his fingers.
“Oh fuck… Tristan…” He gasps. My name on his lips does something dangerous to me, coiling low and tight, pulling me in deeper than I should ever let myself go. His hips roll fervently as he wraps his free hand behind his thighs, yanking them higher. “I’m so fucking close, but I don’t want this to end… it feels like a dream, as if you’re finally here, owning me again.”
My jaw tightens as I watch him, really watch him, taking in every detail. The tension in his body, the way he’s unraveling right in front of me, the way he’s letting me see it. Something dark and possessive coils in my gut at the realization that this, right here, is because of me. That I’m the one pulling this out of him, the one pushing him to this edge.
“Look at me and fuck yourself harder,” I command, my fist pumping viciously now, cock slick and sloppy in my grip, pre-cum flying as I twist the head like I’m grinding balls-deep into his heat. “Describe how close you are, tell me how bad you want my load mixing with that lube, leaking out of your ass while I fuck you through it.”
“I want that so badly,” he whimpers, eyes snapping to mine, filled with nothing but raw, vulnerable fire that’s stripping us both bare. “I want you to fuck me again, Tristan. Ugh, do you want me to beg you, or what?”
I should stop this. I should end it before it goes any further, before it turns into something I can’t control, something I won’t be able to walk away from.
“Beg me then,” I say anyway, the word leaving my mouth before I can stop it, before I can pull myself back.
He doesn’t hesitate.
“Please.” It’s quiet, rough, and completely unguarded in a way I’ve never heard from him before, his eyes locked on mine as if I’m the only thing anchoring him right now. “Please, Tristan.”
My heart stutters hard in my chest, something hot and dangerous rushing through me at the sound, at the way he says it as if he means it, as if he’s giving me something he doesn’t give anyone else. And fuck, that does something to me. His plea ignites fire down my spine straight to my dick, and a rough moan escapes me before I can cage it, pumping myself harder as I watch Maksim unravel completely because of me.
Sweat-slick, wrecked, mine.
“I’ll give you what you want, spitfire,” I rasp, voice raw with promise, the words heavy from years of buried need. “You’ve been such a good boy tonight. So I promise, next time I see you, I’ll fuck you senseless and breed that hole of yours till you’re ruined.”
His breath catches, and he gives me a look despite the stream of ecstasy burning through him as he fucks himself.
“Come for me, spitfire,” I say, voice rough as I feel my orgasm building close. “I need you to come for me. I wanna watch that beautiful hole of yours clamp around that dildo while your cum paints your chest as I blow my load.”
As if my words ignite something primal inside him, his rhythm goes incredibly faster, legs parting and shaking wildly as he yanks them higher. His hole stretches obscene around the veined dildo, lube frothing and squirting with every brutal plunge.
Then his orgasm hits hard and a toe-curling, guttural cry rips from his throat as his pierced cock erupts, spurting thick, endless ropes of cum across his heaving chest and pooling hot in the dips of his abs, even arcing to splatter his chin.
“Fuck! Tristan.” My name spills like a prayer, his rim spasming visibly, milking the dildo in rhythmic pulses.
“That’s it, milk that toy like I’m the one breeding you,” I grunt, the filthy sight shattering me. I give my slick dick one final, vigorous stroke and my orgasm crashes over me as thick spurts erupts hot over my fist, soaking my shirt in sticky ropes that doesn’t seem to end.
I stroke through it, pumping out every drop, my eyes devouring his pulsing hole as he rides the aftershocks. Only when he eases the dildo free from his hole do I release my spent cock with a gasp.
Fuck, I haven’t had an orgasm that intense in two years.
“My eyes are up here, you know.” His voice drags me back, cutting clean through the haze.
When our eyes meet, it hits all over again. There’s something in the way we stare at each other. Something heavy, something neither of us knows how to handle.
