Page 61 of At Your Mercy
My chest heaved, a war raging inside me. I gave him a short nod, then rucked his ruined dress over his hips. “Okay, doll. But only if you promise to let me take care of you after, got it?”
“Yes, yes, whatever you want,” Ro said before placing his hands on my chest and pushing me down to lie against the shower floor. He shoved his underwear down to his knees, kicking them off as he crawled on top of me.
His fingers scrambled to undo the button and unzip my jeans. It took a bit of effort, but once he got it, his soft hand dove into my underwear and wrapped around my hardening cock, massaging it for a second or two before pulling it out of its confines.
He then reached behind himself, his lip caught between his teeth, fingering his hole once, twice before positioning himself over my cock.
He was already lining up to take it in when I said, “Babydoll, we don’t have any lube. You’re going to hurt yourself.”
I groaned as he began to sink onto my length. He peered down at me. “I want it to hurt, Wes. I want it to hurt so bad thatit whites out my head. I don’t want to think, I just want to feel this.”
He cried out sharply as he sat down, taking me to the root.
“Fuck, Ro,” I growled, gritting my teeth at the sudden tightness.
“S-so full,” he panted, his nails sinking into my abdomen. “Oh God…”
Barely giving himself any time to adjust to my size, he started to ride me, shifting his hips back and forth, up and down.
My hands clawed at the wet floor, getting no purchase. I moaned, watching Ro’s eyes go hazy with lust. His hole was a vise around my cock, tight and convulsing.
“God, I love how thick you are,” he moaned. “It burns so fucking much, but it’s sogood. Fuck, I love your cock.”
I smirked and began thrusting, matching his pace. Ro threw his head back, nails raking my skin. “Yeah? You love my cock, doll?”
He whined, “So much.”
“Is it enough pain for you?” I asked, my voice rough and low.
Ro’s eyes slid shut. “No. Please, I want you to ruin me. Choke me, pull my hair, bite me, slap me—”
I surged up, my hand wrapping around his throat. His eyes shot open as I tightened my grip. “Greedy little slut.”
Gripping his hip with my other hand, I began pistoning my hips, hitting him even deeper than before.
“P-please,” he brokenly moaned, leaning into my hold around his neck.
“You like getting fucked by the man you’re meant to kill, doll? You like being his masochistic cockslut?”
“Hnnngh—y-yes—” Ro whined, eyes rolled back in pleasure.
“Yeah, you do. You wanted this the first time we met, didn’t you?”
His channel rippled around me. “Yes,” he breathed. I released his throat, letting him suck in desperate gulps of air. Letting go of his hip as well, I brought one hand behind his head to wrap his hair around my fist in a tight grip, drawing a long moan out of him. I wrenched his face closer to mine, staring into his teary, needy eyes.
Without breaking eye contact, I held his head steady and slapped his cheek.
“Wes,” he cried, “I’m gonna come, gonna—” He must have lost his train of thought as I bit the side of his neck, right over his jugular.
“Fucking come for me, Ro,” I commanded, biting him again—this time on his shoulder.
Ro’s body went taut, thighs shaking, as his pretty dick began to shoot out his release. His cum painted my abdomen and chest, unfortunately getting washed away all too quickly from the spray of the water above us.
I took his lips in a searing kiss as my own orgasm rushed through me, flooding his insides. He whimpered into my mouth.
I gave him a couple of minutes to sit in his post-orgasmic daze before reaching over to his small shower shelf to grab the bottle of body wash sitting there. Slowly, I slid out of him, my eyes locked on his hole. A few droplets of my cum trickled out, stirring in me a need so primitive, so… unlike me—a need to be the only one to fuck him, the only one to fill him to the brim with my seed and watch it drip out of his gaping hole.
I squeezed the body wash onto my palms after pulling his dress the rest of the way off, and worked it into a lather, running my hands over him as if I could scrub away more than just the water, sweat, and mess of us. His head lolled against my shoulder, eyes half-shut, pliant under my touch. For once, he wasn’t sharp edges and sarcasm—just soft and tired, letting me do the work.
