26. Gibson

26

GIBSON

N eeding to come this badly is an edge of misery and ecstasy I haven’t ridden in I don’t know how long.

I’ve stopped trying to understand what I want and maybe especially why I want it. If Christian’s the one serving it up, I’ll take it. His hands and mouth are all over me. My arms, my chest, my fucking nipples— Jesus . “Like that,” I pant, trying to hold his head in place.

Not that it matters. His hands are sweeping up and down my sides, caressing my ribcage and even shoving up my arms where he rubs his palms through my pits and over my triceps. I spread my legs wide, knees bent, my hips fucking into whatever they can find, even if it’s only air.

When he goes down on me, I shudder with relief as my cock sinks into the tight, hot depth of his mouth. But the relief only lasts for maybe a minute before he pulls off my cock and goes to work on my balls.

“Oh— God .” My neck arches off the bed and pressure builds in my face. Somehow he manages to hold both my nuts at once, his tongue playing with them while his mouth gently tugs. I grab my dick, choking it off at the root, desperate to get a handle on myself so I can do what I came here to do—let Christian fuck me.

I won’t lie and say I’ve been wondering what this was like my whole life or anything. It’s mainly just been since last night when he brought it up, but it’s almost all I’ve thought of when I haven’t been dealing with the rest of the shit I had to deal with today. I was sure at the bar I’d been such a turn off. So pathetic and whipped—a fool. Who could possibly want me in their bed after hearing what I’d done? After seeing me like that?

Letting my balls go with a pop, he puts his hands on my shins and urges my feet off the bed.

Like I’m in heat, I grasp the backs of my thighs, opening up for him. He lifts my sac and licks at my hole. Shit—how does that feel so fucking good?

It should feel humiliating and dirty, but judging by the noises I’m making, it’s my new favorite thing. I was aggressive with his hole. Like I was trying to chew my way through him, but he’s a tease. He’s all wet licks and quick flicks until I feel like I’m gaping open for him.

“Please, Christian… please .”

He moves to kiss my inner thighs, and his hand wraps around my cock, squeezing it gently and giving it a few firm pumps. I couldn’t be more ready, and surely he’s been fucking with me long enough that he can actually fuck me .

Planting his hands next to my sides, he rises between my legs, his mouth coming for mine. I open eagerly, not giving a fuck where it just was.

That’s when I feel the brush of his erection up my crease, his tip lodging itself against my hole. “Put it in me,” I whisper between kisses.

“I might not be as big as you are, but you need to be patient.”

“I’m trying.”

“You’re begging like a puppy,” he says .

A mortified laugh gusts from my chest, and I throw my arm across my face. I feel him move, feel the warmth of his body and the stiffness of his cock disappear.

Lowering my legs, I take some deep breaths and hang on tight to my dick. It gives a desperate throb that makes me clench my jaw. I’ve never been in this position before—not in bed. Although, it feels a lot like I feel walking through my apartment on a daily basis with what I want so close and yet impossible to have. It’s not any less humiliating to be summarily rejected by my wife as it is to lie on my back with my legs spread at the mercy of someone else’s desire.

My abs clench, braced for him to tell me it’s not going to happen. Or maybe to finish myself. But a moment later, he’s lying beside me, pushing my arm off my face and kissing my mouth. Two fingers slick with lube swirl around my entrance, and I shiver with impossible to suppress need and no small measure of relief.

I return his soft kiss with a level of passion that surprises even me. He lets out a quiet grunt and sinks deeper into my mouth, matching my energy.

It feels so good, I barely notice when he slides a finger inside me. But it’s hard not to notice the second one. Still—it makes me want more. I nod, gripping him by the hair and holding him against my mouth as his fingers fuck into me. When I’m about to ask for more, he adds a third, and I feel stuffed. A low noise punches out of me. He sucks my lips as his fingers slide back and forth, eventually curling and brushing my prostate so well, I nearly squeeze my cock off in my fist.

He draws his face away. It takes me a second, but I open my eyes and find him staring at me. “Are you ready for me?” he whispers.

I can’t do anything but nod, which I hope he takes as nothing less than my enthusiastic consent .

He shoves his fingers inside me again and lets out a shaky sigh. “You feel so fucking good.”

No one’s said that to me in more years than I care to count. Not like Christian says it. Not like he means it. Like I feel as good to him as he does to me. My heart’s a little fragile, and I need to watch it around him. He may like me, he might even give a shit about me, but I can’t go losing some other part of me to a man who only wants to mess around.

I can accept that. I’m still in love with my wife, after all, even if it’s been over for far longer than I’m willing to admit. “Please,” I say, but it’s less of a beg and more of a demand. I’m edged past reason, and I’m ready to feel him move in me. With me.

As we kiss, I help pull him on top, positioning myself beneath him. He already has on a condom, which he must’ve put on before he came back with lube. I’m grateful for all of it.

“You don’t have to baby me,” I tell him after he kisses me again. My cock is leaking everywhere.

“This isn’t me babying you. This is me fucking you.” He presses his mouth to my neck and slides his cock back and forth over mine. Covered in lube, it’s slick and cold, but also hard and too far from where I want it.

I wrap my arms around him and let him do whatever he wants—whatever feels best to him. As we kiss again, he pulls one of my legs around his hip, slipping lower down my frame until his abs are pressed against my cock. Following his lead, I lift my other leg, crossing my ankles over his lower back. I shove my hands into his hair and get a good grip on the roots as he guides his dick to my hole.

I decided an hour ago that I was going to enjoy this, but I am not prepared for the moment he enters me. My abs seize, and my head comes off the bed. My fists unfurl to grasp his head between my hands, and my jaw drops on a soundless cry as his cock fills me in one perfect glide. Fuck. Me .

My dick jerks, and more precum jets out. He stuffs me full, moving slowly and breathing heavily with the effort. So good. It’s so goddamn good . The intensity of it—the level of sensation is beyond anything I’ve ever experienced even with some of the more extreme kink.

He presses kisses to my chest when I start moving with him, using the muscles in my legs to help meet his strokes with thrusts of my own. It’s killing me how perfect he is, how good everything with him feels. How this should be testing every limit I have, and yet it’s one of the best things I’ve ever experienced. I never want to stop. I want to pull him deeper and get his mouth back. I want to know every thought in his head. I want him to talk to me.

He plants a hand on my chest and breaks free of my arms to look down at me. Licking my lips, I take hold of my dick again, my touch lighting it up and getting me dangerously close to the edge once more.

His blue eyes pierce a veil in my mind, and one thought he’s having becomes vividly clear. I nod. Yeah. I’m good. Too good.

“Fuck,” he breathes, adding some power, filling the dim room with the wet, slapping sound of our flesh. He wears a necklace I don’t notice often as it’s usually under his clothes. It’s a simple silver chain with silver cross, but it looks sturdy. I take hold of it—not to control him, but to hang on for the ride. I’d spur him on like a stallion if I could. A crop could be fun. Fuck, and the thought of that ?—

I hold back another orgasm through the sheer force of my will, my clenching fist has very little to do with it. His blunt nails dig into my pec. His cheeks are red with exertion. He’s so goddamn beautiful, I can’t stop staring at him.

His gaze slides to my mouth, and I lift my head. He lowers his, and we meet in a ferocious kiss. He’s got me by the back of the neck, and I’ve got a handful of his pretty hair while we thrash through a filthy, sloppy, ball-tingling kiss neither of us seems interested in stopping. The fucking gets harder, rougher. My cock hurts almost as bad as it had when I stuffed it inside him. It would be stupid not to let myself come—unnecessary torture that leads to unnecessary clinging.

But still, I hold it back. Wanting more.

His hips lose their rhythm, slamming into me erratically. He moans long and low until the sound stutters, and then he releases a series of grunts, rising in volume and intensity—building into a shaky groan as he slams deep and comes. He freezes in place before a shudder takes him like an electric shock.

Desperate now—so fucking desperate, I take advantage of his most vulnerable moment, rolling him over. He slides out of me in the process, which leaves an emptiness I hate. I spread his legs and kneel between them. “Grab your knees.”

He does, showing me his flayed, bruised ass. His raw, swollen hole. I did that , I think with a swell of intense satisfaction. A very particular brand of madness takes hold of me when I stare at the marks I left—the hole I used.

Sucking two fingers into my mouth, I use them to prod his opening. He sucks in a gasp, every muscle shaking. Jerking myself to completion and finally letting my release rip through me, I aim my cock at the small opening I make with my fingers. Waves of pure, explosive bliss wrack me as my thick cum coats his abused asshole. The image instantly brands my brain.

He does something insane then, reaching down and stuffing my spend inside himself. I glance at his face, and we lock eyes. He bites his lower lip and hoods his gaze, acting like a slut for me. When he grabs a taste for himself, I nearly black out at the sight of him licking his fingertips. I feel like I come again, although it’s just another stream of semen and a suppressed sound of shock.

He reaches for me—like he needs to put us both out of our misery, and I barely catch myself from crashing on top of him with my hands on the pillow beneath his head. My face hovers above his for a brief moment before his hand is on my neck, and we’re back to kissing.

It’s the perfect way to come down, and I get why it’s his go-to. His mouth impassions, but it also soothes and relaxes me. It focuses my thoughts and appreciates my enthusiasm. He’s fucking perfect. Exactly what I needed and had no clue I was missing.