Page 48 of Sebastian

“No, it’s good. So fucking good.”

I do it again along the other side. When the tip of his dick passes across my lips, I sneak my tongue out to snatch up the bead of pre-cum gathering there. Mmm, delicious. I wrap my lips around his cock, just the head, and suck.

“Oh god.” Sebastian’s body arches. His stomach muscles contract into a flat plane. His glutes clench in my palms.

I hum as more pre-cum lands on my tongue.

“Fuck, that feels good.”

I’m about to make him feel even better. I slide my lips down his length, feeling every ridge and every bump along the way. He nudges the back of my throat and I swallow him down. He cries out but I keep going until my nose is pressed against his pelvis and his cock is lodged in my esophagus.

Sebastian’s right. This does feel good. To have him fill my mouth and my throat. To taste him and smell him and touch him. To be surrounded by him. To be drowning in him. It feels right. It feels like I’ve been waiting for this my entire life.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

SEBASTIAN

Christian’s mouth is heaven. On my dick, on my skin, on my own mouth—anytime it’s on my body, I’m in heaven. And right now, it feels like I’m dying. He’s got me lodged so far down his throat, I don’t know if I’m going to get my cock back at all. At the rate he’s sucking me, I’m going to blow my load before we even get out of the shower, then we won’t have to bother with the second part of the video at all.

“Chris,” I pant, just barely remembering to use his stage name. I push at his shoulders. “Too much. Oh god. Please.”

He pulls off, only to replace his mouth with his hand, and smirks up at me. “Had enough?”

Yes. And no. I don’t think I could ever get enough of him, of the way he looks at me with that laser-focus intensity, the way he calms me down with nothing but a simple touch. I run my palm over his short hair and his eyes flutter closed. He presses his face into my groin, takes a deep breath, and groans.

“Fuck, you always smell so good.”

My cock jumps in his hand, at the way he’s rubbing his face against my pelvis, his beard rough on my skin. At the way his groans rumble through me, hitting me in all the right places inside.

His other hand slides toward my crack and his fingers dip into the valley. He stills when he makes contact with the butt plug I’m wearing.

“Sebastian?” He glances up at me and I can’t breathe when he looks at me like that. “What is this?”

He taps on the plug and it bumps against my prostate. I jolt, pushing my dick into Christian’s fist. He taps on it again and I let out a high-pitched whimper. “Chris!”

He turns me around and presses against the back of one knee to get me to raise my leg. I plant my foot on the bench and bend forward to brace myself on the wall. Water hits the top of my head and runs down my back. Christian grabs both ass cheeks and pulls them apart.

“When did you put this in?” He traces a finger around the plug, then above and below, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.

“When I went to the bathroom after we landed.” I wasn’t about to go through security or sit on a plane with that thing inside me, but I remember how things went last time—I need as much prep as I can get.

Christian tightens his grip on my ass. “You mean you’ve been wearing the butt plug this whole time?” he growls.

I peer over my shoulder to find his eyes glued to the plug. He looks like he’s about to dive in and devour it. My hole clenches involuntarily—I can’t look at him when he’s looking at me like that. I’ll never last.

“Fuck.” I turn to face forward again.

Christian wiggles the plug. “Going to take it out now,” he warns.

I bear down as he tugs and it slides out of me with a pop.

“Fuck,” Christian mutters behind me.

I’m loose and open. My hole is gaping and water flows over it, catches on it, leaks into me. Christian’s finger is a hot poker and when he pushes inside, it feels like I’m being speared through.

I push back onto his hand. I need his fingers inside me. I want him to rip me open and stretch me wide. I crave the thickness of his cock, the length of it as it rearranges my insides to make space for itself. “Oh god, please.”

Christian replaces his finger with his tongue and it’s so much hotter than anything I’ve ever felt before. I’m being scalded, branded, marked as his.

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