Page 64 of One Last Try

“Fuck,” I whisper. “That’s hot. That’s fucking hot. Okay, here,” I swap the items in our hands—take the P-spot massager off him and hand him my phone after bringing up the correct app. “You’re in control.”

He kisses me again. Walks me backwards to the bed.

I grab the lube from my bedside table and squeeze some onto the toy. Owen sits in the middle of the bed, half propped up against the headboard, and I kneel over him, squat a little, and slip the massager inside.

It already feels incredible, and it’s not even switched on.

“Will it fall out?” he asks.

“I’ll push it back in if it does.” I’m aching now, desperate for friction, so I give my cock a few lazy strokes. Owen watches me greedily. “You can control the speed and the rhythm right there.”

He tears his eyes from me. “Rhythm?”

“It has about twelve different programs.”

“Which is your favourite?” He’s always asking this, putting my preferences above his curiosities. I’d have wanted to try each one out in turn to see whichever got the biggest reaction.

“It’s the fifth one. It’s like prostate SOS. Three quick buzzes, three long buzzes, then three quick buzzes again.”

“Oh my god,” he laughs, but he’s not smiling. I think he’s too far gone for that. He turns his attention to the phone. “Are you ready? Because I’m getting a little desperate.”

“Not yet.” I scoot down the bed until I’m lying on my belly between his legs, and I take his cock in my hand. I lift it off his stomach and lick over the head.

“Oh, fuck,” he cries, his brow furrowed, skin flushing pink. “Mathias Jones, you are going to ruin me.”

I bury my nose into the soft flesh between his cock and hip and breathe him in. He’s showered recently, probably right after his pub shift before coming over. A “just in case” shower that’s paid off.

Owen starts the device, but not on the SOS mode. He puts it on setting one, which is the slowest setting, and I make the decision to suck him in sync with the massager. I lick up his shaft, flick my tongue around the head, and spit on it before gently sucking the tip into my mouth.

Owen’s breath hitches, and he groans towards the ceiling. I’m already getting power drunk. I reach one arm up and grab as much of his belly as I can fit into my hand. My other hand holds his thighs open. I ignore my own cock, but I’m making a mess of the bed covers.

He switches the device onto the second mode, and I speed up my pace. Owen immediately figures out my plan. “Ohh.”He’s so breathless he barely gets the word out. “Like that, is it?”

It doesn’t take long for Owen to reach the fifth setting. I pull off him and breathlessly say, “I know there are another seven settings, but please keep it on that one.”

He drops the phone onto the duvet and threads his fingers into my hair. I’m back on him, sucking his cock greedily, no longer in time with the SOS beat of the massager.

Owen rolls his hips. I renew my grip on his belly and thighs and stop him from moving. Pin him down. Don’t let him fuck my face like he did me. I want to be in control. I want him weeping with need. Desperate for me.

His breathing gets shallower, more ragged, and I know he’s nearing the peak. So I slow down, edge him, build it back up again.

“Jesus, Mathias. Fuck. It’s . . . too much. It’s too much,” he whines.

He’s whimpering. Grabbing fistfuls of my hair. Holding on to the headboard rails as though he’s fighting the current and will get dragged out to sea if he doesn’t.

I bring him to the edge twice more before I give in and push him over that peak.

“Oh, Mathias. Wild Card, I’m gonna . . . oh, fuck. Oh my god.” He lifts his face towards the beams and cries out.

I swallow his release, and when his body sags, I kneel over him and fuck my own hand until I’m spraying his stomach and chest.

“Oh my god, Mathias. That was . . . you’re . . .” Instead of finishing his sentence, he laughs and rubs his fingers through his single stripe of hair.

“You can switch that off, by the way.” I point towards my phone.

“Shit, yeah.” He turns the device off and I remove it. I grab a towel from the side and toss it over to him. “I’m just gonna wash this, and then we’ll go make a cup of tea and finish the quiz.”

Owen flashes me a thumbs up and mops my cum from his chest. “I’ll get dressed.”

---