Page 41 of Shut Up and Jingle Me
Lining up at his entrance, I press forward just enough to feel the heat of him. Eli’s legs tighten around my waist, pulling me closer, his nails biting into my shoulders. His eyes lock on mine.
“Breathe for me,” I murmur, kissing his temple.
And then I push in.
Slow. Torturous. Every inch burns, his body clenching around me like he was made to fit me and me alone. Eli gasps, back arching off the mattress, his lips parting on a sound that isn’t even a word. It’s so different from last night that I can’t help but grip his hips as I ease in slowly.
“Fuuck,” I groan, teeth gritting, because he’s so tight I can hardly think straight. I sink deeper, inch by inch, until I’m seated fully inside him, buried to the hilt.
His breath comes in jagged bursts, and when I brush my lips over his jaw, he moans—low and deep.
“Move, Max,” he whispers, voice shaking. “Please.”
I drag out slow thrusts, savoring the way his body grips me, the way his head tips back against the pillow. Every push pulls a different sound from him—gasps, broken whines, messy,inarticulate pleas. His fingers clutch at me as if he’s afraid I’ll disappear, and I’m the only thing tethering him to this moment.
I keep the rhythm steady, deliberate, grinding deeper instead of faster. My lips find his throat, sucking marks into his flushed skin as I roll my hips into him. Little bruises he’ll carry with him even after this weekend.
“You feel that?” I rasp against his ear. “Every inch of me, deep inside of you—just like you begged for.”
His answering moan is almost a sob, the kind of sound that makes my whole body tighten with need.
Each thrust is unhurried, deliberate, dragging every nerve raw in the best way. Eli’s hands scrabble at my back, then at the sheets, then back to me again—as if he doesn’t know what to hold onto. His lips part around a sharp gasp every time I push deep, but when I keep it slow, his frustration starts to bleed through the pleasure.
“Max,” he pants, his voice cracking on my name. “God—fucking—please.”
I nip at his jaw, keeping my pace measured, savoring the way he squirms. “Please what, Princess?”
He lets out a sound that’s half groan, half growl. “Don’t—don’t make me say it.”
I rock my hips just right, grinding against that spot that makes his whole body jolt. He cries out, clutching at my shoulders, eyes wild.
“Say it,” I murmur against his throat, low and demanding. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to fuck me,” he blurts, voice high, desperate. His thighs tighten around me, trying to drag me closer. “Harder, Max, I need it—I need you to ruin me with your big dick.”
I groan into his neck, my restraint snapping.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” I rasp, but my hips are already shifting, pulling back only to drive in harder. His answering cry is pure, unfiltered need, and it nearly undoes me.
“Fuck—yes—” he gasps, his head tipping back as he clings to me. “More, Max, don’t stop—don’t you fucking stop.”
I brace my hands on either side of his head and give him exactly what he begged for, deep, relentless thrusts that make the headboard thump against the brick wall, every movement driving more incoherent sounds from his swollen lips.
And God help me, every one of those sounds feels as if they are marking him as mine.
The pace is brutal now, my hips snapping into his with each thrust, dragging cries from his throat that sound nothing like the smug smartass who teases me at every turn. His nails bite down on my shoulders, then rake down my back, desperate, grounding himself on me as though I’m the only thing keeping him tethered.
“Max—fuck, Max—” His voice breaks, trembling and raw, his body clenching so tight around me it’s almost too much.
I press my forehead to his, panting, groaning, every nerve alive with him. “You feel so fucking good, Princess. Gonna come again for me?”
His head tosses against the pillow, sweat beading at his temples. “Y-yeah—I—oh, God—” His back arches, his hard cock trapped between us as my thrusts drag him across the edge again and again until he’s choking on the sound of it, spilling hot seed between us with a cry that rips out of him like he can’t hold it back another second.
I groan at the sight, at the way his body convulses around me, milking me deeper, harder. “That’s it,” I rasp, my rhythm faltering as pleasure claws up my spine. “That’s my good boy—fuck, Eli?—”
His cum streaks his stomach, his thighs trembling, his voice gone hoarse from the sounds I forced out of him. He clings to me through it, shaking, breathless, like he never wants to let go.
And I don’t, either.
