Page 47 of Stolen Harmony
I arched beneath him, desperate for more, grinding up into the solid press of his thigh. The friction made us both gasp—there was no hiding how hard I was, or how much I was leaking, my cock leaving a wet spot in the front of my briefs.
He pulled back just far enough to look down between us, eyebrow raised. “Making a mess already? Shit, you really are desperate, aren’t you?”
I blushed, but didn’t look away. “Can’t help it.”
He hummed, pleased, and let his hands slip lower, hooking his thumbs into my waistband. He tugged at my jeans, slow and careful, dragging them down my legs. I shimmied out of them, left in nothing but my tight black briefs—already stretched and darkened with precome. I felt exposed, hungry, wanted.
“Gonna take these off too?” I challenged, voice low.
“Not yet,” he said, voice full of mischief. “Gotta savor it first. You look good like this. Soaked through, aching. Needy for your daddy.”
Something dark and thrilling curled in my stomach at that word, a low, filthy pulse of want. “Yeah? You like seeing me like this?”
He leaned down, pressing his mouth to my ear, biting the lobe, whispering, “I fucking love it. Look at you—my good boy, spread out and aching for me. Nobody’s ever touched you like this, have they?”
I whimpered, arching into his touch, desperate for more. He kissed a line down my neck, across my collarbone, sucking hard enough to leave marks, hands wandering everywhere at once—thumbing my nipples, gripping my thighs, squeezing my ass through the thin fabric.
“Take these off,” I begged, tugging at the waistband of his jeans. “Wannasee you.”
He obliged, grinning as he stood beside the bed, unbuttoning his fly with deliberate slowness. He shoved his jeans down, leaving only soft gray boxer-briefs hugging his thick thighs. The outline of his cock was obscene—big, leaking, already wetting the cotton.
I let my eyes linger, hungry and admiring, licking my lips as he crawled back over me. “Damn,” I whispered, unable to hide the awe. “You’re huge.”
He grinned, smug. “All for you. Not bad for an old man, huh?” He pressed his bulge against mine, grinding slow, both of us groaning as the friction made our cocks throb and leak, darkening our underwear even more.
“Making a mess now yourself,” I teased, reaching between us to palm him through the fabric, feeling the heat and weight of him, the way he twitched at my touch.
He hissed, hand shooting out to catch my wrist, holding me still. “Careful,” he warned, voice low and dangerous. “You keep that up, I’ll embarrass myself.”
I smiled, loving the way he looked at me—hungry, possessive, like he’d tear the world apart just to keep me. “I want to make you lose control,” I whispered. “I want you to fuck me dumb. I want to be your good boy, daddy.”
A dangerous spark lit in Kepler’s eyes, a flash of something primal, a hint of challenge. “You think you can handle that?” he growled, voice gone deep and rough, hands tightening on my hips. “You really want to see what a man can do to you?”
Before I could answer, he was moving—lifting me up as if I weighed nothing, one big hand splayed over my ass, the other wrapped around my shoulders. I let out a breathless laugh, legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. My head spun as he carried me through the bedroom and down the hall, bare skin pressed to his, both of us nearly naked, cocks leaking through thin fabric.
He shouldered open the bathroom door, barely pausing to flick the shower on—hot water thundering against the tiles, steam curling into the air. He pressed me back against the wall, the cold tile shocking against my spine, his body all heat and muscle as he pinned me in place.
His mouth crashed down on mine, hungry and claiming, one hand cradling the back of my head, the other sliding up under my thigh, keeping me spread and helpless for him. The shower spray hit us both, soaking our hair, our skin, our underwear clinging wet and transparent.
Kepler ground against me, hips rolling, the thick line of his cock pressed to mine through soaked cotton. “Feel that?” he rasped, voice pure filth, lips dragging down my jaw to bite at my throat. “That’s a real fucking man you’ve got against you. Bet you never thought you’d have something like this, did you?”
I whimpered, back arching, my cock straining for more friction. “No,” I gasped. “Never.”
He grinned, wicked and pleased, rutting harder, the slide of our cocks together sending shockwaves up my spine. “Fuck, you’re soaked for me. Making such a mess, baby. Who’s making you this desperate? Who’s got you begging?”
“You,” I managed, hips stuttering, “You, daddy. Only you.”
“Damn right,” he said, biting my neck again, leaving a bright mark that would linger for days. His hand slid down between us, cupping me through my briefs, squeezing, then palming his own cock and grinding us together even harder. I could feel every inch of him—thick, hot, leaking, more than I’d ever imagined.
“Shit, you’re gonna ruin me,” I panted, hands scrabbling at his shoulders, needing more.
He just laughed, the sound low and smug. “You ever felt something this big pressed up against you before?” He rockedhis hips, cock dragging against mine, the slide impossibly hot through our wet underwear.
I shook my head, lost to the sensation. “Never. Feels so fucking good?—”
He cut me off with a rough kiss, tongue fucking into my mouth, claiming me over and over. His hands were everywhere—pinning my wrists above my head, palming my ass, squeezing my thighs, not letting me move except how he wanted.
“You look so fucking good right now,” he growled, pulling back just enough to look me up and down. “All pretty and desperate, leaking all over yourself. Bet you wish you could see how you look. Bet you wish you could see how fucking hard you’re making me, don’t you?”
