Page 189 of King of Pain
Then… nothing.
Ant’s not moving. He’s still. Silent.
I groan when I realize what he’s doing.
“You’re looking at your name on my back, aren’t you?”
“Where it fucking belongs.”
Good. God.
Without another word, he lets go of my hair and traces every muscle and dip from my shoulders down to my lower back. I mourn the loss of his cock between my cheeks as he sinks down and spreads them open with his hands.
“Look at this pretty fucking hole.”
“Ant—”
My words vanish when he spits on my hole and starts to work me open with two fingers.
“Fuck, baby, I need you so bad,” I pant, breathless.
Ant leans in and buries his face between my cheeks, tongue spearing as far as he can reach.
I cry out, trembling with ecstasy while Ant softens my opening with one of his world class rim jobs. I swear, one day I’m insuring that tongue. It should have its own policy. The wickedthings it can do. He’s made me come hands-free from just his tongue before.
More than once.
“You like that don’t you?” he murmurs, coming up for air. “So sweet and open for me.”
“Ant, please,” I beg over my shoulder. “I want you to fuck me so hard I feel it in my throat tomorrow.”
He rises, eyes blazing, one hand gripping the small of my back while the other stretches toward me, palm open.
“Lube,” he growls. “Right. Fucking. Now.”
I scramble forward and yank open the nightstand drawer. After a frantic dig, I slam the bottle in his outstretched hand.
Fuck, the way he’s looking at me. Forget his tongue. I could come fromthatalone.
I turn toward the wall as I hear the pop of the cap. Seconds later, two fingers hook inside me and he’s working my prostate like it’s his side hustle.
“I’m good, baby,” I all but scream, pushing back and fucking myself on his fingers. “Just put that cock to work and rearrange my insides.”
Ant grabs the strap of my jock like a harness, lines up the head of his cock, and slams in balls-deep—just the way I like it.
“Fuck. Yes.”
He holds me steady—one hand clutching the jock, the other gripping my hip—giving me a moment to adjust to his size. When I start to wiggle back, eager for more, he tightens his grip and starts moving. Slow. Torturous.
The big-dicked bastard is going to make me earn it. This is what he does when he’s preparing us both for a long, hard, breathless fuck that ends with me rode hard and put away wet.
Ant’s thick cock stretches me wide, brushing my prostate on every pass. He pushes up the jersey, revealing more skin totouch, to own. His hands caress my back, my ribs—exploring every inch and setting my skin on fire.
It’s tender and languid. Unbearably slow. But I know that won’t last.
Without warning, Ant pulls out, grips me by the hips and flips me onto my back.
I study his face as he applies more lube.
