73. Max

Aminimalist bedroom. The wonderful roar of summer rain outside, the same rain diffusing the light in the room so it's soft and pearlescent.

And, best of all, a naked man lying on his stomach for me, his skin olive against the white sheets, his arse paler and so luscious-looking, dark head cradled in his arms and the most tantalising of shadows between his legs. His cock is out of sight, but I know better than anyone how hard it must be straining right now in its captivity between his stomach and his sheets.

The sight of him takes my breath away.

I kneel up on the bed and nudge his legs apart, taking in the delicate nodes of his spinal column, the curve of his lower back, the tautness of his hamstrings and the firm hairiness of his calves and the silken skin blanketing his shoulder blades. I take in the jut of his jaw, the fine lines of his nose in profile, the flickers of his eyelashes on his cheek as he awaits me, and I can scarcely breathe.

It's his first time doing this, so why in God's name I feel as awe-filled as a virgin, I do not know. It's the combination, I think, of having wanted him so badly for what feels like far longer than it is and wanting so badly for it to be as transformative for him as he needs it to be. As I need it to be.

He's had all his firsts with me. First kiss from a man. First blowjob from a guy. First threesome. I've been attempting to crack this guy's brain open since the moment I met him with skills far closer to orthopaedics than neurosurgery in terms of their finesse level.

But this is the Big Leagues for him, this is serious stuff he's letting me do to him, and much as I want to rail the living daylights out of him, I want more fervently for him to rise from this bed a different man than the man who sank down onto it so willingly for me.

I pour myself on top of him, my body moulding to his, my dick finding the place between his legs like it's magnetised. Going gently with Dex has never been my MO. Pandering to his demons is out of the question. Taunting him with them, though, reminding him how fucking filthy and unleashed he really wants to be? Fuck, has that worked. That feeling of him grinding his cock against the heel of my palm as I baited him with how much he'd secretly loved our shower at Alchemy will be imprinted on my consciousness forever.

‘Tell me something,' I murmur against the pretty shell of his ear. ‘How many times over the years have you let yourself imagine that someone's big, fat cock was fucking this tight, shameful little hole?'

He groans against the pillow, and it's music. ‘About three million.'

‘Mmm-hmm. That's what I thought. And answer me this: have you ever let yourself enjoy it?' I already know the answer to this—we've had this conversation before—but I want to hear him admit it right before I breach him there, because it will make it all the sweeter for both of us.

‘Not really. Only in—only when I'm about to come.'

‘Exactly. And how does it feel to know I'll be pushing into you in a minute, and it'll feel every bit as filthy as you've ever dreamed, and you'll be harder than you've ever been in your life, and the feel of me fucking you will have you coming harder than you ever have, too?'

‘Jesus, Max,' he moans.

‘Answer my question.'

‘Amazing, okay? It'll feel—just do it already, before I change my mind.'

I laugh a little at that, and at the ineffectual way he tries to arch that arse of his against my dick. He can't, of course, given how I've got him pinned down, but my dick appreciates the gesture all the same.

A moment later I'm rising to my knees again and popping the cap of the lube he bought. I dispense a generous amount and slather it between his cheeks. He shivers, and I suspect it's both the cold shock and my exploratory fingers that cause it. His entrance, his little virgin entrance, is tight and hot and clenched like a fist, and I laugh a little. ‘Relax.'

He follows his grumble with several moans as I work for a few minutes on unclenching that ring of muscle with first one finger, then two, and an accompanying string of filth and praise. I get him up on his knees so I can fondle his sac and stroke his dick, reminding him that there's nothing to fear here. That I have only unthinkable pleasure in store for him.

When I curl my fingers down and press against his prostate, he nearly shoots off the bed. God bless him, he's so eager and so beautiful and I might lose my fucking mind when I get inside him, because the mere sight of my fingers disappearing into his shivering, gorgeous body is enough to have my own cock swelling impossibly harder.

I'm glad we waited for this. I'm glad I got my clean bill of health back, because I want nothing between us. The first time I take this arse, I'm taking it bare.

He's ready—or as ready as I can get him, anyhow. Another huge dollop of lube and my dick is slick and primed to replace my fingers. His entrance is glistening and prepped. I lie him back down on the sheets. Much as I want him on his hands and knees for me, it'll be too intense for his first time.

I notch my crown against his hole. ‘Think about a time when you wanted a guy so badly, and you wouldn't let yourself make a move,' I tell him, my voice shaking with the exertion of self-control it takes not to wedge myself right in. I stroke him with my crown, wet, needy flesh sliding against wet, needy flesh. ‘Think about all those filthy fantasies you had, and how incredible it will feel to finally get him.'

‘No,' he protests gruffly. ‘I've never wanted anyone like I want you. Ever.'