Page 42 of Hot Receiver

He tries so hard to hold on to his control, but when he fucks me long, hard, and deep, he loses it completely.

And I fucking love it.

That’s my power overhim.

“What are you doing?” he growls, glaring at me as I writhe against my fingers.

I moan for effect, shifting so he can see me work my asshole. “I need to come, and you couldn’t get the job done. So, I’m gonna do it myself, and you’re gonna watch me do what you didn’t.”

His eyes are wild and brimming with fury. “You wanted to feel pain. I gave you what you wanted.”

I add a third finger, still working my dick. “Sounds like an excuse to me. Why don’t you just admit that maybe you’re not that great at sucking cock?”

“I’m a fucking master.” His lips pull into a tight line. “And you know it.”

I yelp, my ass working hard against my hand. My fingers drive faster. Tingles assault the head of my cock. “Well,master,” I grunt. “I’m about to make myself come right here on your couch because you couldn’t make it happen.”

A feral expression settles into his face. He kicks off hisshorts and lunges for me, his hand flying up to my neck. With a squeeze, he hisses, “You don’t come until I say so.”

Goosebumps shoot up all over my prickled skin. I try to choke out a response but he’s gripping me too hard. For a second, dizziness assaults my mind, and fuck me if his whole possessive alpha sadist alter ego doesn’t make this whole scene hotter.

“Can you even make me come?” I taunt, choking out the words because his grip is just that tight.

“You know I can. Better than anyone ever could or will.”

He’s right. Nobody can make me feel the things he can. Part of me never let another man in because deep down, I knew Zak took a piece of me that I couldn’t get back. He brought me to life, and when he was gone, that life was snuffed out like a candle on a birthday cake.

“Prove it. Show me now.”

My body is so close to erupting into carnal flames here on his couch. I’m desperate for release, to feel him pressed against me, into me, connected to the point where there are no beginnings or endings… where we’re fused together, one in body, heart, and soul.

I let go of my cock and tug his shorts down to his ankles. Zak takes his hand away from my neck and leans into me again. He grabs both of our dicks in his hand, stroking them, slicking the precum down the sides as his dark eyes sear into me. That look takes away my breath even more so than his hand did when it was around my throat.

We thrust against each other, my fingers still fucking my ass. With a grunt, he pushes them aside and takes over, crooking them as he delves inside of me. Immediately, all my nerve endings fire at his command. He knows just how to touch me, just how to make me come undone with his masterful fingers.

Not that I’d ever admit that to him.

I want to see him work for it.

I want tofeelhim work for it.

“Kiss me,” I rasp, grinding my hips against him as sparks ignite in my groin.

He envelops my lips, silencing the cry knotted in my throat before it can escape. His fingers peg me relentlessly, my arms and legs morphing into Jell-O as all the blood shoots straight to my cock.

“Is that all you want?” he mutters against my lips. “For me to kiss you?”

“Fuck, no.” I tug his head back the slightest bit so I can dig my teeth into his shoulder. “I need you inside of me. I want to feel your cock deep in my ass.”

I clamp down hard on his flesh, and he sucks in a sharp breath, his hands working my cock and my ass harder in response. When I pull away, I see the bruise already starting to form.

My marking.

My claim.

“Bedroom,” he growls. “Now.”

We barely make it into the room, our arms and legs entwined, tangled tighter with every stumbling step we take down the hallway. His beard scrapes against my skin, his lips glued to my neck, my ear, my mouth. I run my hands down his back, his muscles rippling under my touch, his skin so smooth against my palms.

---