Page 28 of Trick of the Flesh
I nod frantically, sobbing against his mouth. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop?—”
“Never,” he growls, moving slow and tenderly. “I’ll never stop giving you this. You’re everything to me. Every.”Thrust.“Fucking.”Kiss.“Thing.”Thrust.
And I believe him.
Miguel keeps up the slow pace, every thrust measured, his forehead pressed against mine like he’s anchoring me in place. The stretch burns, but the way he moves—the way he whispers to me—pulls me through it.
“That’s it, baby. Look at you. Taking me so well.”
Every word soaks into me, breaking something I didn’t even know was holding me together. I clutch at his back, nails digging into his skin, needing to feel him everywhere.
“Fuck,” I gasp, my voice cracking. “I—I can’t?—”
“Yes, you can.” His hand slides to my jaw, firm but gentle, forcing me to meet his eyes. “You can do anything with me. You’re stronger than you think.”
The pressure builds, hot and everywhere all at once, and I can’t stop the sobs that slip out. He doesn’t tease me for them and doesn’t pull away. He kisses me through every tear, whispering, “Beautiful. You’re beautiful, Caleb. Say it; say that you’re beautiful.”
“I’m not.” The words come out broken.
“Look me in the eye when you lie like that.” My eyes lock on his but I don’t repeat the words. Each thrust grows deeper, steadier, until the burn gives way to something sharper, brighter. My body shakes with it, my breath breaking into moans I can’t bite back.
“I’m not,” and the tears fall.
He growls, gripping under my thighs and pulling them up around his hips, hitting a spot inside me that makes me whimper. “That’s it,” he groans, his voice rough. “You feel that? That’s me. Filling you up, making you mine. Nobody else gets this. Just me. Just us.”
“Yes,” I sob, desperate, undone. “Just you. Only you.”
His hand slides between us, wrapping around me, stroking in time with his thrusts. The pleasure is unbearable, white-hot, shooting through me until my whole body arches off the bed.
“Such a goodfuckingboy,” Miguel rasps, his lips dragging along my jaw. “Come for me. I want to feel you lose it while I’m inside you.”
The words unravel me. I cry out, clinging to him as I spill between us, cum covering his hand and our chests, shuddering so hard I can barely breathe. My chest feels like it’s cracking open, everything raw and exposed, but for once it doesn’t scare me.
Miguel groans, his thrusts faltering. “Fuck—Caleb—” His body tenses, and then I feel the hot rush of him spilling inside me. His face presses into my neck, his breath ragged, his voice low and reverent. “Mine.”
We collapse together, sweat-slick and trembling, his weight heavy but comforting. My tears haven’t stopped, but they’re softer now, no longer jagged with shame.
Miguel kisses the corner of my eye, tasting the salt. “That’s it. Let it out. You did so fucking good for me, baby.”
I can barely speak, but I manage, voice hoarse and broken: “I feel… whole. With you.”
He smiles against my skin, his arms tightening around me. “That’s because you are whole. You always were. I just had to remind you.”
The house is quiet,but my brain isn’t.
I’m stretched out in bed, sheets twisted around my legs, his warmth radiating against my side. He’s already half-asleep, chest rising slow and steady, while I’m wide awake—staring at the ceiling, counting cracks in the plaster like they’re going to fix anything.
They don’t. They never do.
Because it’s not the ceiling keeping me awake.It’s me.My head. The endless fucking reel of every word, every touch, every moment that won’t stop replaying until it drives me insane.
“You’re beautiful, Caleb. Say it, say that you’re beautiful.”
“I’m not.”
“Look me in the eye when you lie like that.”
The memory hits hard enough to make me flinch. His voice was low and commanding, his hand on my chin, forcing me to meet his stare when I wanted to look anywhere but at him.
