Page 89 of Pumped

How does he do it? How does he go through life unbothered by the weight of the world? He lets it all slide off his shoulders without a care, without holding on to it and letting it drag him down.

I’m so tired. God, I’mso tiredof being strong and reliable, the one everyone else depends on, who has the answers and knows what to do.

I’m not strong. I don’t have the answers. I never know what to do. I only appear to be all those things because I’ve never had any other choice. But for once, just for one day, I don’t want to pretend anymore.

I want to be reckless, wild, audacious, impulsive. I want to let all the spinning plates crash to the floor and break into a million pieces. I want to be able to walk away without feeling an ounce of guilt.

I want to lose myself in Everest and forget everything else. I want him to make the pain go away.

Everest holds me tighter, cheek pressed against the top of my head. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs. “You can let go. Everything’s going to be okay. I can be strong enough for the both of us.”

Something primal and raw rips through me, obliterating every thought, every uncertainty, every reservation. I surge up, grabbing ahold of Everest’s face and smashing my mouth against his. Our teeth bang together and Everest lets out a surprised grunt.

Please, Ev, please. Make me forget. Make it stop hurting.

And as if he can read my thoughts, he kisses me back.

Hard. Furious. Aggressive.

Yesss.

Relief courses through me as my body comes to life. This is it. This is what I need. Sensations to drown out the constant whir of my brain.

His hand goes to the back of my head, angling me for a deeper kiss. I let him. I relinquish control to him. I surrender.

Everest’s tongue plunges past my lips and my head spins. He licks along the roof of my mouth and I whimper. He nibbles on my jaw, sinks his teeth into my earlobe, sucks on the spot where my pulse beats. My head drops back, my eyes drift shut, my mind blanks to everything except the scrape of Everest’s teeth, the softness of his lips, the suction of his mouth on my skin.

“What do you want, O? Tell me what you need.”

When I don’t respond, he pulls back to gaze down at me. His pupils are blown wide. His lips are bruised and swollen. His hair is mussed from my fingers.

I… I want…

The emotions swirling inside me are so big, so complicated, that I can’t shape them into words. Desperation claws at my throat, rendering me speechless. I can’t breathe. My chest is tight. My stomach feels like it’s been ripped to shreds. I gasp for air and fist Everest’s shirt in my hands.

His eyes go from frenzied to focused as he hears my silent plea. He grabs my wrists and with a quick twist of his body, he manhandles me back onto the bed. My hands are pinned above my head, and Everest’s knee is between my thighs, flush against my rapidly hardening cock.

Leaning down, he bites into that place where my neck meets my shoulder and the sharp sting goes straight to my cock. It pulses, hot and aching against Everest’s knee. My hole twitches, hungry to be filled.

Without warning, he pulls away, and I cry out a protest. Rising above me, Everest tears his clothes off, revealing all that skin, all that muscle, primed and pumped and ready.

Naked, he reaches for me. I try to help, but my hands are useless. Everest rids me of my clothes in a blink of an eye, then taps me on the hip.

“Hands and knees.”

I don’t think. I don’t object. I don’t question. I simply scramble to obey. With my face buried in a pillow and my ass sticking up high in the air, I wait. I’m open. Exposed.

Somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind, a part of me bristles at letting Everest take the lead. But I smother the whisper of defiance. I don’t want to be in charge right now. I don’t want to make decisions.

A hand lands on my ass. Loud and stinging. I yelp and jump, more in surprise than in pain. Everest grabs both ass cheeks, squeezing and pulling them apart. A shudder runs through me at the image I must present. Submissive. Vulnerable. At his mercy. The part of me that demands to always be in control roars its displeasure.Why am I just kneeling there letting Everest do whatever he wants? Why am I so soft, so deficient, so weak?

A swipe of Everest’s tongue right across my hole shuts down my inner critic. My mind goes on the fritz. Everything in my body, every sense, zeros in on my ass and the sensation of Everest’s tongue drilling into my hole.

I resist the urge to reach back and push his face more firmly into my ass. I shove my arms under the pillow, gripping hard enough for my hands to ache. I need this. I need him to take me, to fuck me, to make me his. I need to not be me.

Something cold hits my ass, then is immediately pushed into my body by Everest’s fingers. He fucks me once, twice, twisting his fingers around, before pulling out again. Then the blunt tip of his thick cock is there, pressing inside, demanding entrance.

I bear down, letting him in. The pressure is intense and unrelenting. He doesn’t pause to let me adjust. He doesn’t give me time to acclimate to his girth. He just sinks into my body like he owns it, like he belongs there, like I am his.

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