The praise amplifies the sensation on my dick and in my ass.
He adds a second finger, and I grunt, adjusting to the change. To compensate, he strokes my dick a little harder, and I relax for him.
I turn my head so I can take a deep breath, but I can only suck in short gasps as his fingers hit my prostate.
Then he dips his head. His rough stubble scrapes along my skin while he sucks my balls into his mouth. I shout out so loud, I’m sure everyone in this whole mansion can hear me, but I can’t help it.
My ass pulses around his fingers, my dick leaks, and my balls tighten. If he doesn’t hurry up and fuck me, this might be all over before he gets inside me.
“Thorne,” I breathe. “I need you. Now.”
His mouth leaves my sac, and I’m able to pull back from the edge, but his hands don’t stop. “Not yet.”
His hands move in sync, his fingers hitting my prostate on every upstroke on my cock. It only takes a few seconds for the tension to coil through me once again, sending me way too close to coming early. “I can’t … I’m gonna come if you keep going.”
“Mm, wouldn’t want that.” He slows but doesn’t stop. He does add a third finger, and the stretching sting helps, but nowhere near enough.
“I’m ready,” I plead.
“No, you’re not. Not yet.”
I groan in protest. Or is it pleasure? I have no idea.
“I never thought this would happen. Ever,” he rambles as he keeps finger fucking me. His hand stroking me has slowed, but that doesn’t mean anything when my prostate is being massaged within an inch of my sanity. “I love how you are right now—splayed out for me and begging.”
“Please put me out of my misery. Please, please, please.”
“Are you sure your hole is ready for me? Because I’m not going to hold back. One day I’ll be able to make love to you, but today is not that day.”
“Oh God. Fuck me. Please.”
“Yeah?”
“I need your dick.”
When he finally pulls his fingers from my body, I manage to catch my breath while he puts the condom on. I’m so wrung out already I can’t even lift my gaze to look.
The head of his cock presses against my hole, and my eager body pushes back, wanting more. I want to be filled. I want Thorne inside me.
I don’t know if I’m cut out to be anyone’s boyfriend or partner. A lifetime ago, I’d dated. I had boyfriends while I was a struggling artist, but I can’t say I’ve ever been in love before.
Thorne pushes forward, burying deep inside. “Fuck, you feel good.”
I shake my head because my short break wasn’t long enough. “I can’t … I …”
He thrusts again.
“I can’t hold out.”
“Good. I want you to come. Then I’m going to use your body and drive into you over and over again until you’re crying out in pleasure and pain.”
I fist the pillow in my hands and grit my teeth.
Thorne follows through on his promise. It only takes two brushes of my prostate to have me crying out and coming completely hands free. I don’t think that’s ever happened before. My memory fails me because my brain is in my balls.
My cock jerks, and spurts of cum land beneath me.
I want to sink into the mattress. My trembling limbs want to collapse, but Thorne won’t let me. He grips my hips hard and starts a punishing pace. He does as he says and uses my body.
“You’re even tighter than I imagined,” he grits out.
I grunt. “You’ve imagined this?”
He grips my hair tight and pulls my head back while he blankets me with his body. “Oh, I’ve imagined so many different things about you and my dick.”
“Mmm, maybe I should make it my mission to make each and every one of those fantasies come true.”
Thorne’s movements falter. “Promise?” His voice barely cuts through the fog of bliss.
“Promise.”
Just like that, Thorne tenses and lets out a low moan. He thrusts a few more times, drawing out his orgasm, and hitting my oversensitive prostate. I shudder, and we collapse together in a heap of tired muscles.
I can’t remember a time I’ve ever been so happy to be covered in my own jizz.
Eventually, he rolls off me, but I’m too out of it to move. He gets up, and the door clicks open at some point, but I still don’t roll over. My whole body aches.
Thorne returns moments later, and he lets out a sigh. “You look so hot like that. I almost don’t want to make you get up.”
“Why do I have to move?” I complain.
“To clean up.”
Oh, right. I probably should do that. “The best I can do is this.” I roll onto my back.
Thorne’s still naked, and damn, that’s a good sight. His wide shoulders and narrow waist. His short and usually styled and neat hair is messy and sticking up at all angles from sweat. He has a wet cloth in his hands.