Page 31 of Fire Me Up
I shook my head, unable to form words as heat radiated from that single point of contact. I’d touched myself there—especially while prepping earlier—but this was different. This was Dylan’s finger, Dylan’s touch. The difference was staggering.
“Relax for me,” he instructed. “Deep breath in… and out.”
I obeyed, inhaling deeply, then releasing it slow. As I exhaled, I heard the snap of a bottle cap, followed by the slick sound of lube. Anticipation thrummed through me, my cock heavy and neglected between my thighs.
“Cold,” he warned a second before I felt it—the cool slickness of lubed fingers returning to my entrance, circling with more intent now.
“Fuck,” I gasped as one fingertip breached me, just barely pushing inside. The sensation was foreign but not unpleasant: strange pressure, a slight burn that faded as my body adjusted.
“You okay?” Dylan asked, his free hand stroking my lower back, steady and soothing.
“Yeah,” I managed. “More. Please.”
Dylan chuckled, warmth rolling through me. “So polite when you’re desperate.” But he obliged, pushing deeper, past the first knuckle, then the second, until he was fully seated inside me.
The fullness—knowing part of Dylan was inside me—was delicious. Not painful, just intense, lighting up a part of me I’d barely considered before. He held still, letting me adjust, his other hand roaming my back, my ass, my thighs.
“You’re doing so well,” he praised, slowly withdrawing before pressing back in. “Taking my finger so beautifully.”
His words sent another wash of heat through me. I pushed back against his hand, wanting more, wanting everything. Heset a gentle rhythm, fucking me with one finger until the strangeness melted into pleasure.
“Ready for another?” he asked, already reaching for more lube.
“Yes,” I said, the word a breathless plea.
The pressure increased as he added a second finger. The stretch burned more intensely, a delicious ache that made me groan. He moved slowly, scissoring gently to open me, careful and thorough.
“God, you’re tight,” he murmured. “Need to get you nice and open for me.”
I arched my back, changing the angle, and suddenly his fingers brushed something inside me that sent shockwaves up my spine.
“Fuck!” I cried, my whole body tensing at the unexpected lightning-bolt pleasure.
“There it is,” Dylan said, satisfaction threading his voice. He curled his fingers again, pressing that spot. “Your prostate. Not everyone enjoys it. You okay?”
“Fuck.” Words failed as I pressed back into his hand, begging for that touch again without saying it. Okay didn’t begin to cover it. It was electric, overwhelming, like nothing I’d ever felt.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
Pre-cum dripped from my cock onto the sheets as Dylan laughed softly and massaged that spot with precise pressure. My thighs trembled with the effort of holding myself up while wave after wave crashed through me.
“Dylan,” I gasped. “I’m gonna—if you keep doing that, I’ll
He immediately eased off, withdrawing slightly. “Not yet,” he said. “I want you to come on my cock.”
The loss made me whimper, my body clenching around nothing. But he was already adding more lube, pushing three fingers into me this time. The stretch bordered on painful, but in the best way—a burning fullness that made my cock throb.
“Look at you taking my fingers,” he said, wonder in his voice. “So responsive. So fucking hot.”
He set a new rhythm, working three fingers in and out while deliberately avoiding my prostate. Just when I thought I’d adjusted, he’d crook his fingers, graze that bundle of nerves, and I’d cry out—then he’d pull back, leaving me gasping and needy.
It was torture—exquisite, perfect torture. Time slipped; everything narrowed to his fingers, his voice, the mounting pressure that never quite tipped.
“Please,” I finally begged, pride gone. “Please, Dylan. I need more. Need you inside me.”
He leaned over me, chest brushing my back as his fingers kept up their relentless tease. His lips skimmed my ear. “You’re so fucking gorgeous like this,” he whispered. “All spread out for me, begging for my cock.”
I shuddered at his words, at the raw hunger in them. I’d never felt so vulnerable and so powerful at once. Making Dylan want me this much was intoxicating.
