Page 93 of Hearts on Ice
“Lube?”
“Drawer.”
“You came prepared, huh?” he said with a teasing grin.
“I’m always prepared, Miguel.”
He found the bottle, the cherry scent blooming as he slicked his fingers generously.
He knelt behind me, spreading my cheeks wide, his thumbs pulling me open. It hit me then, how much I trusted him. How easily I gave him every inch, every breath. How natural it felt — like my body had been waiting for him my whole damn life.
His breath ghosted over the sensitive skin, then his tongue, flat and wet, licked a broad stripe from my balls to my rim. I jolted, moaning into the pillow, the rimming unexpected and filthy. His tongue moved in slow, circling laps that made my breath catch and my body open for him, helpless.
“Fuck,” he rasped between strokes, voice raw with want. “You taste so damn good. I could live here.”
The words vibrated against me—rough, reverent, undoing me completely.
His tongue fucked my ass in and out, loosening me, before he replaced it with a finger, sliding in using the lube and his saliva.
The intrusion burned sweet, my hole gripping as he pumped slowly, adding lube for glide. “Relax, let me in.”
I did, breathing deep, and pushed back as a second finger joined, scissoring to stretch the ring. The fullness built, a deliciousache, and then he curled his fingers, brushing my prostate; that electric spot that made my cock twitch and leak onto the sheets.
“Right there, Miguel, don't stop.”
He didn't, thrusting deeper, faster, the squelch loud and obscene, his free hand kneading my thigh, and his nails digging in just enough to sting.
“Your hole opening up is so pretty to me,” he murmured, his voice laced with awe and dirt. “Gonna add another finger, I need to stretch you wide for my cock.”
The third finger breached, the burn intensified, but pleasure overrode as he twisted, pegging my gland relentlessly. My body shook, my prostate throbbed under the assault, my cock grinding into the mattress for friction. Sweat beaded on my back, dripping down as he finger-fucked me mercilessly, the pace building like a power play.
“Do you feel that? Your ass is sucking me in, begging to be fucked. I could make you come like this, your prostate milked dry.”
I whined, close to the edge, my hole spasming around his knuckles. “Please fuck me now. I need your cock inside me, Miguel.”
He withdrew slowly, leaving me clenching on nothing. Then his hand found mine, our eyes locking for a breath that said everything we didn’t need to repeat. The tests. The trust. The quiet promise that what we shared belonged only to us.
No barriers left between us. Just skin. Just want.
He slicked himself with lube, the blunt heat of him nudging my entrance, pressing until his head popped past the rim, dragging a gasp from my chest.
“Mierda,” he groaned, breath ragged. “You’re so damn tight. So perfect like this.”
He inched forward, a deliberate move, letting me adjust to the girth which was splitting me open. His veins dragged along my walls, filling every inch until his pubes tickled my ass and his balls nestled against mine.
Pausing, he leaned over, his chest to my back, kissing my shoulder. “You good?”
I nodded, rocking back to take more, the fullness overwhelming. It’s a pain-tinged bliss. He pulled out halfway, then thrust in sharp, setting a rhythm: slow at first, building to deep, grinding snaps. The bed creaked, and the headboard thumped against the wall. The angle was off slightly so he missed once, slipping out with a wet slide before pushing back in. But it was real, his grunts mixing with mine, our sweat-slick skin slapping together.
“Pound it harder. Wreck my ass,” I demanded, fisting the sheets, meeting his hips.
He growled, gripping my waist, bruising me with his fingerprints as he railed me. His cock pistoning, hitting that spot dead-on now, and stars exploding with each plunge. I wasn’t just being fucked, I was beingclaimed, piece by piece, stripped of every lie I’d ever told myself about what I wanted. And Christ, it felt like freedom.
One hand snaked around my waist, fisting my dick, he stroked in time with his thrusts: it was rough, and he was thumbing my slit to coax more pre-cum.
“Gonna fill this hole, Drew. Gonna fuck you deep.” His words, filthy and possessive, coiled tight in my gut. The suite smelled of sex, lube, sweat, and us.
His pace stuttered, breaths coming in pants against my ear. “Close, your ass is gripping like a vise. Come for me, Drew, shoot while I fuck you.”
