Page 48 of Stolen Harmony
I nodded, words gone, lost to the slick grind of him against me. The shower poured down on us, heat soaking into my skin, turning everything slick and messy and perfect.
“Yeah,” he said, voice pure sin, “You want it, don’t you?”
“Yes, please, daddy,” I begged, voice breaking, “Show me. Show me how good it can be.”
He grinned, pleased, and slid a hand down, curling his fingers under the waistband of my briefs. He pulled them down slow, baring me to the heat and steam, letting my cock spring free—hard, flushed, dripping. He let his fingers wrap around me, squeezing just hard enough to make my breath stutter, then slid his thumb over the tip, gathering precome and smearing it down my length.
“Look at you,” he said, almost reverent, “So hard for me. You want to see what you do to me?”
I nodded, chest tight with anticipation, watching as his other hand went to his own waistband. He shoved his briefs down, cock springing free—and my eyes went wide. He was even thicker than I’d imagined, longer too, flushed deep red, the head already shiny with want. I reached out,unable to stop myself, wrapping my fingers around him, barely able to get my hand halfway.
“Holy fuck,” I whispered, honest awe in my voice.
He grinned, proud and cocky, grinding his cock against mine, letting me feel the size, the weight, the heat. “That’s right, sweetheart. You gonna take it? You gonna let me fuck you dumb on this?”
I moaned, letting my head fall back against the tile, giving in to the want. “Yes. Please, daddy. Want to feel you, want to be yours.”
He rutted against me, cock sliding against mine, both of us leaking, the wet slide of our skin slick and filthy and perfect. He pinned my wrists with one hand, his other gripping both our cocks, stroking them together, grinding until we were both shaking, gasping, lost.
For a moment, I thought he might keep going, might grind us both to the edge and let us come all over each other again. But then Kepler pulled back with a low, dangerous growl, his eyes heavy and dark. “Down,” he ordered, voice rough as gravel. “On your knees for me.”
He didn’t need to say it twice. I slid down, knees hitting the wet tile, the water cascading over my shoulders. He towered above me, broad and magnificent, his cock hanging thick and hard, still glistening with both of us. He gripped the back of my head, his fingers threading tight through my hair—firm but never cruel—guiding me closer, his cock bobbing in front of my face.
“Open up,” he rasped, breath catching. “Let me see you take it. Show me how much you want to please your daddy.”
The thrill of the word, of the command, sent a shiver all the way down my spine. I met his eyes, let my lips part, tongue flicking out to taste the salt and heat of him. The head bumped against my lips, smearing precome. I pressed a wet kiss to thetip, then flattened my tongue and licked a long, slow stripe from base to crown, savoring the weight and musk, the way he trembled under my hands.
“Fuck, that’s it,” he groaned, hand tightening, “you look so good like this—pretty mouth, hungry eyes. You like it, don’t you? Love sucking cock like the needy little slut you are.”
I whimpered, desperate, and opened wider, letting him feed himself into my mouth. He went slow at first, letting me adjust to the girth, the stretch, his cock spreading my lips, sliding over my tongue. I hollowed my cheeks, sucking him deeper, working my jaw until he filled me up, the head nudging the back of my throat. He hissed, hips rolling forward, the grip in my hair possessive, anchoring me exactly where he wanted.
“Shit, that’s it—take it, take all of it,” he growled, thrusting a little deeper. “Gonna fuck your throat, ruin you for anyone else.”
I nodded as much as I could, throat fluttering around the thick heat of him, eyes watering as he pushed in and out, using my mouth with a rhythm that was rough but never cruel. I let him set the pace, hands braced on his thighs, feeling the strength in every flex, every snap of his hips.
He watched me the whole time, his gaze hot and greedy, drinking in the sight of me stretched around him, spit leaking from the corners of my mouth, drool and precome slicking his shaft. The praise spilled out of him—dirty, worshipful, relentless. “That’s it, just like that. Good fucking boy. Take it deeper—yeah, choke on it a little. Bet you never sucked cock like this before, did you?”
His words went straight to my cock, making me harder, needier, leaking against my thigh. I gagged a little as he pressed deeper, tears stinging my eyes, but I loved the way it made him groan, the way he lost control for just a second, hips jerking, cock pulsing against my tongue.
He started to fuck my face in earnest, holding my head steady as he rolled his hips, each thrust claiming me, making me his. The sounds were filthy—wet, messy, echoing off the shower tiles, mingling with the slap of water and the sharp, helpless moans that escaped him.
When he pulled out, I gasped for air, spit and precome running down my chin, but I barely had time to breathe before he was hauling me up, strong arms wrapping around me, spinning me to face the wall.
“Hands up,” he ordered, voice dark and rough, pressing my wrists to the cold tile. “Want you just like this. Need to taste you.”
I shivered, arousal and nerves tangled in my gut. I pressed my forehead to the slick wall, legs trembling, ass jutting out, offering myself to him without shame. I felt his hands on my hips, spreading me, his breath hot and ragged as he dropped to his knees behind me.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he murmured, voice gone almost reverent. He kissed the small of my back, then down to the curve of my ass, teeth scraping gently at the flesh, leaving marks for me to find later. His big hands kneaded my cheeks, thumbs parting me wide, exposing my hole to the hot, pounding water and the hungry press of his mouth.
He licked a broad, filthy stripe from my balls to my rim, making me gasp, then circled my hole with the tip of his tongue, teasing, tasting, worshipping. He buried his face in me, tongue fucking me open, hot and relentless, alternating between wet, slow circles and sharp, hungry thrusts. My knees buckled, hips jerking, fingers clawing at the wall for something to hold on to.
“Please—please, don’t stop,” I begged, words choked, voice shaking. “Feels so fucking good, daddy, need more—need you.”
He groaned, the sound muffled by my flesh, and redoubled his efforts, devouring me like a man starved, hands spreadingme wider, tongue pressing deeper, tasting every inch of me. He alternated between licking and sucking, biting gently, then soothing the sting with slow, careful circles.
The sensations were overwhelming—raw, intimate, almost too much to bear. I rocked back into him, chasing every flick and thrust, wanting to be filled, wanting to be used, wanting to be owned.
“You taste so fucking good,” he said, pulling back just enough to press a kiss to my lower back, “Could eat you for hours. Never had a man like you before. Never wanted to.”
