Page 122 of Faking It Right
“Almosthalfway?” I asked, my voice cracking in shock. “You’re telling me there’smore? You’ve got to be kidding me!”
Harley snickered. “Sorry, no jokes. There’s plenty more where that came from.”
“What the fuck? This is like one of those magic scarves that clowns pull out of their sleeves. It keeps coming and coming.”
“We’ll get to the coming.” Harley pushed in another inch.
The stretch intensified, making me hiss through clenched teeth. “Hold up, hold up.” My hands flew to his hips to stop his movement. “Time-out. Give me a minute.”
The humor vanished from his face, replaced by immediate concern. “Do you want me to pull out?”
“Not yet.” It was hard to relax around the foreign intrusion. “It’s confusing because my body is simultaneously saying, ‘Absolutelynot,’ and, ‘Is that all you’ve got?’ I’m having a civil war down there.”
He snickered, but his thumbs drew soothing circles on my thighs. “Take deep breaths. It will pass, I promise.”
I focused on my breathing, willing my muscles to relax. “This is why I never understood the appeal of anal,” I grumbled. “Who voluntarily signs up for this kind of discomfort?”
“Says the guy who’s taking my cock like a champ,” Harley teased, but his eyes were soft with affection.
“A champ who’s questioning his life choices,” I retorted, shifting to test the sensation. “Okay, I think I’m good. You can move again, but slowly, for fuck’s sake.”
Harley nodded, easing forward with painstaking care. “I’m so proud of you, Ryker. Most guys tap out way before this point their first time.”
“Great, so I get a gold star in ass-stretching. Just what I always wanted to put on my résumé.” Despite my sarcasm, I felt a ridiculous surge of pride at his praise.
The fullness was overwhelming, a constant pressure that demanded my attention. Right when I thought I couldn’t take any more, Harley would push in another fraction of an inch, and somehow my body would accommodate him.
A gasp interrupted my next complaint by shifting positions. “Oh!”
“Good ‘oh’ or bad ‘oh’?”
“I’m not sure yet. Different ‘oh.’”
He nodded, maintaining his position as he pushed in a bit more and nailed my body’s factory-installed ecstasy button. It triggered an avalanche of sensation that buried my self-control under six feet of “Oh, fuck yes.” My back curved like a question mark seeking its exclamation point while my throat produced a sound so shamelessly enthusiastic that I briefly considered suffocating myself with a pillow just to escape the smirk now plastered across his face.
“Holy shit!” I gasped, my eyes flying wide open. “What the fuck was that?”
Harley’s smile was downright triumphant. “That, my dear Ryker, is what makes this whole endeavor worthwhile.”
“Do it again,” I demanded, my previous discomfort momentarily forgotten.
He obliged, angling his hips to hit that same spot. The pleasure was even more intense the second time, making my toes curl and my cock leak precum on my stomach.
“Now, you’re getting it.”
“Wait, there’s more?” I asked incredulously when he continued his relentless penetration. “How is that physically possible? Where is it even going? My stomach?”
His smug grin was well earned. “Almost.”
“That’s not sexy, that’s terrifying.” My body seemed to disagree as it clenched around him. “You’re so deep, I swear I can taste you in my throat.”
“You’re such a drama queen,” Harley laughed, though the sound was strained.
“Not to be the obnoxious kid in the back seat on a road trip, but are we almost there yet?”
“We’re getting there,” Harley promised.
When he moved again, a sharp pain made me tense. “Ow, fuck!”
