Page 20 of Ted's Temerity
His previous relationships might have been more traditional, though. His littles more submissive, maybe. Sweeter and softer and more likely to need reassurance.
But that’s not me.
I’m not made of glass, and I want him to fuck me already.
“It’s better than good,” I tell him, grinding down onto his fingers to encourage him to pick up the pace. I meet his gaze, hoping that my need is burning into him. “I promise; if it’s not, I’ll tell you. Just fuck me, Ted. Please.”
His eyes widen and then practically roll back in his head. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“But what a way to go, right?”
“Zeph,” he says in a tone that’s an interesting mix of fondness and warning.
“Daddy,” I chime back in the same tone, cutting myself off with a strangled groan when he plunges his thick index finger inside me. “Yes,” the ‘s’ in the word turns long and sibilant. “Just like that.” I arch my hips up to meet his ministrations. “More.”
“I knew it,” he mutters, pumping his finger in and out maddeningly slowly, “I knew you’d be a bossy bottom.” The words are chiding, but he sounds amused and affectionate.
Whining and wriggling, trying to encourage him to pick up the pace and stretch me further, I begin to tease, “If you think this is boss-” my words are cut off as a pleasured gasp is forced from my lips with the skilled movement of his fingers. “Oh shit, yes, there, Ted.Fuck.”
“Such a naughty mouth on you, too,” he laughs, but the sound is breathy and strained, belying his own arousal. “What are the rules, tiny dancer?”
“Really?” I ask, knowing I sound bewildered and incredulous. I raise my head to stare at him in disbelief. “The no swearing thing extends to sex?” For me, that’s impossible. I shake my head, dropping it back onto my pillow as he crooks his finger and grazes my prostate. “Fuck.” I breathe. “Yeah…no. That’s a no. You can’t enforce - oh,God, Ted.” The second finger distracts me from my rant, stretching and burning beautifully.
“You were saying?” He sounds smug.
I writhe as he scissors and curls his fingers with practiced ease. “We’re renegotiating that rule,” I manage after a few moments of indulging in the pleasure. In between pants and sighs, I get out the rest of my bargaining chip. “If you ever want to see what else my mouth can do, you’ll let me say whatever the hell I want during sex.”
He’s quiet as he contemplates my words, his fingers still working me open. “That’s fair,” he eventually acknowledges, then pulls his fingers out. This time I do complain when he moves aside, but the crinkling of a little foil wrapper has me hushing up. However, he takes me by surprise when he rolls the condom overmycock, saying, “and, as a gesture of good faith, let me show you what mine can do.” Then his mouth engulfs me whole.
My brain shuts down. This fun little back-and-forth between us is impossible to maintain when my dick is surrounded by heat and suction. Then Ted’s lubed fingers are back inside me and I’m officially lost to the pleasure he’s giving me.
I’m a begging, thrashing mess by the time Ted pulls away from my cock and removes the condom. I want to sob at the fact that I’m so close and yet so far from coming, but he shushes me quietly and reaches across to the nightstand for another condom, this one for him. I struggle to my elbows to watch him roll it on over his thick cock, then spread my legs in invitation for him once it’s situated.
He dribbles more lube over himself and lines up, his tall, broader form stretching over mine as he finally pushes in. I breathe through the intrusion, his three fingers barely having prepared me for his girth, and Ted gives me a moment to adjust. Then he takes his time, pitching his hips forward and back in tiny, teasing thrusts until he’s bottomed out.
“Ted,” my breathing hitches, “you feel…ungh…” The gradual, deliberate slide of his cock is indescribable. For all our playful talk about edging and orgasm denial, I get the feeling that Ted likes to draw the pleasure out. It feels amazing to have him inside me, filling me up, grazing in all the right ways as he moves with determined strokes.
“Right there with you,” he agrees, breathing heavily. “You’re like a vise. It’s…” he moans as he pushes back in and closes his eyes, “Zeph, fuck, so tight. So perfect.”
I reach up and thread my fingers into his thick hair, the flecks of silver among the brown glinting in the sunlight now streaming through the windows. Tugging his head down, I kiss him hungrily, trying to goad his tongue into a faster pace, hoping that it might then transfer to his hips.
Between us, my cock throbs, practically demanding friction. When Ted pushes in closer, his stomach rakes over the sensitive head and precum dribbles from my tip.
“Touch yourself,” he demands against my lips. “Stroke in time with my thrusts.”
I don’t know that I have it in me to properly obey. Once I get my hand around it, I’m more likely to try and jerk myself to coming as fast as possible.
As if knowing exactly where my thoughts have gone, Ted drops his voice even deeper, adopting that dominant Daddy tone that I find so very enticing. “Zephyr,” he warns, not losing rhythm. “Slowly.”
“Yes, Daddy,” I agree, only a little bit of cheek in my voice because I just can’t help myself.
Then I snake my hand down between us and, using my own precum to slick the way, start sliding my fist over my neglected dick in the same leisurely pace that Ted is fucking me.
“Oh, kitten, that’s so hot,” he says, glancing down between our bodies to watch, mesmerized by my actions. “One day I’ll get you to jerk off for me. To show me exactly how you like it.”
The idea of putting on a show for him is super enticing and shoots through me like an electric shock. “Yes,” I cry out, my balls tightening.
“Don’t come yet,” Ted demands.
