Page 92 of American King (New Camelot Trilogy 3)
“Okay,” he said, one hand dropping to my inner thigh. A single thumb stroked up my seam and I shuddered, fluid leaking out of my flared, needy tip and onto my stomach. “Breathe out and bear down against it.”
“Okay.”
The hard tip of the toy pressed against me, cold and alien, and then Embry said quietly, “Look at me.”
I looked at him.
Eyes like the sky, lips on the aristocratic side of thin, refined cheekbones and nose, that almost-curly Regency hair that just begged to swoop over his forehead in the most endearing manner. And his expression was everything—rapt, awed, eager, desperate. He wanted this as much as I did, if not more, and that fact transformed everything. It made this for him, about him, and the moment it became about him, it could be about me. Even now I can’t articulate precisely what that meant or how it happened, just that his pleasure allowed me to take pleasure. Suddenly, like a switch had been flipped, it began to feel good. The tip probing at the aperture of my body warmed, pushed against the nerve endings in the pleated skin there in all the right ways, and when it finally penetrated me, the feeling was so breathtakingly dirty that I moaned.
“Fuck,” Embry breathed, watching my face. “Yes. Holy shit, Ash. Yes.”
He moved the plug with expert care—enough strokes not to force the issue and slow enough that there was no pain, but fast enough that I was chasing the edge of discomfort the whole time. And the discomfort itself was fascinating, the way it forced openness, the way it forced trust, the way it made me feel a kind of shame I hadn’t felt in years.
Then the plug was fully seated and Embry sat back on his heels, his eyes glued to my ass. “How does it feel?” he asked.
I squirmed in response. “Full.” As I squirmed, my cock slapped against my stomach, veined and rigid and wet at the head.
Embry groaned. “I don’t know if I can watch you wiggle around like this.”
“Do you need to touch yourself?”
“Oh god, yes please,” he moaned, hand already yanking at his belt, and then I had the double stimulation of his plug in my ass and his beautiful cock on display. He gave it a few rough tugs as he watched me.
“Do you want to try a few positions?” he asked, once he’d tamed the urgent edge of his need.
“I suppose we’d better,” I managed, even though at this point it was hard to fathom how I could breathe, much less move with this fullness. But move I did, with his helpful thumb keeping the plug seated as I flipped over onto my elbows and knees with my wrists still cuffed.
Embry made a noise behind me, and again I felt a flash of masculine pride. That I could make a man as handsome, as charming, as sought after as him moan simply by presenting my body to him.
“You can touch me,” I told him over my shoulder. “In fact, it might help me if you did.”
He was on me like he’d been barely holdin
g himself back before. His knees on the inside of my knees, his hands trailing up the sides of my hips, the crown of his unguided cock bumping clumsily into the backs of my thighs.
“Can I do the bigger toy now?” he asked in a whisper.
“Yes.”
The plug slid out and then I felt the adept twirl and crook of his finger. “More lube,” he explained. “Just a bit more.” And then the new toy was there and I felt a sudden tension ripple through me as I realized how much bigger this felt against my asshole than the plug, and Embry was running a calming hand down my back. “It may feel like pain at first,” he told me, “but you just have to keep reminding your body that it’s not pain. It’s pressure. It’s pressure and remind yourself that you want it.”
“I want it because you’re the one giving it to me,” I told him honestly, and he groaned a little.
“Please stop saying stuff like that or I’m going to come all over the back of your legs,” he said a bit irritably. “Okay, breathe out and push against me and remember that it might take your mind a moment to rewrite the feeling.”
He pushed the dildo against me, and I did as he said, and he was right. It did hurt a little at first, and I found myself having to force back against the pain, having to breathe into my stomach to move past it. But then I looked over my shoulder at him, at his face as he slowly fucked my ass with this toy, and the pain shimmered into a brighter version of itself. A more interesting version of itself. Until the moment the crown of the silicone cock grazed against a place deep inside and I let out a shattered moan, and Embry exhaled as if he’d been struck.
“Yes, that’s it,” he said shakily. “That’s the feeling you want to hold onto.”
“Little prince?”
“Yes?”
“Fuck me with it.”
“Christ. No, don’t with the dimple now, are you trying to kill me? I’ll go slow and then speed up.”
And that’s exactly what he did, with gentle twists and rocks of his hand. Slow, careful strokes that left me tingling and breathing hard, and then they turned deep and hard and rough, until the silicone was as warm as a real cock, until I was shaking and beaded with sweat. Until my stomach was clenched tighter than any fist, until my cock was harder than it had ever been and I knew when I came that I’d spray this entire bed with an embarrassing load of cum.
