He adds a fourth finger, stretching my ass beyond its usual boundary, and the moan that leaves my body sounds more like a howl.
I don’t care. Whatever this is, I’m here for it.
He places the cushion back over my mouth, and I grip the fabric between my teeth as my nails dig into the flesh of my legs I’m still holding up and open for him. He pops my balls out of his mouth and smirks, a devilish plan flitting across his handsome features.
He reaches over to a drawer beside the couch and yanks out a pot of something oily. It isn’t until he’s slathering my hole with it that I realize it’s lube. Multiple scoops get layered in and out of me as I rest my head back on the couch and relish the sensations. His hand grips my cock as he scoops more of the oil inside me and begins lazy strokes up and down in a circular motion that makes my eyes roll into the back of my head.
He leans over and whispers, “If you need to tap out, just say so. Otherwise, I’m going to keep going.”
My dick twitches in his hand, and he smiles.
“Seems my little human is on board with that plan.” He kisses my lips before kneeling back between my spread legs. “Good.”
He starts with three fingers, his other hand still lazily stroking my dick. They slide in and out, the stretch barelypresent after his earlier work. When he adds a fourth, a whiny mewl escapes my lips as my hands twist the couch cushions.
“You’re so needy. It’s been a while, huh?”
I nod, barely managing words.
“Be a good little human and bear down for me,” he instructs as his grip tightens and his strokes speed up. “Good boy.”
He shoves the last finger in, and the stretch pulls at me. A pained yelp slips free, followed by a moan, and he pauses.
“Don’t . . . stop.”
His expression turns wicked as he closes his fingers into a fist and begins slowly pulling out until just his knuckles are inside me.
My back arches, the stretch the biggest I’ve had. Its delicious burn squeezes straight to my balls until I’m ready to burst. But I hold off.
When he pushes his fist back inside, I know I’m done for. No amount of cushions or hands are going to keep me quiet. By the satisfied smirk on his face, he knows it, too.
He pushes his fist in and out of me, slowly at first, but he speeds up in time with his other hand. He bends over and meets the top of my weeping dick with his lips and licks a stripe along the slit.
“Fffsss,” I hiss. Fuck. I don’t think I’ve ever been fucked like this before.
His fist is pumping in and out of me, not just grazing against my prostate but forcing its way past it with each thrust. He swallows my cock to the back of his throat and hums, just like last time.
And I’m so far gone I forget where I am entirely. “Fuck! Guhh...” My hands wrap around his horns and hold him to me as I fuck his face in snaps of my hips, rhythm all but a forgotten concept. All the while, he continues to fist me as though it’s a casual everyday occurrence to him. He’s fucking me so raw, I’mscreaming into the lounge’s warm air so loud my throat feels hoarse.
Just as he swallows me down the back of his throat once again, and his fist punches ever deeper into my ass, another orgasm rips through me like wildfire. My vision whites out, and my throat breaks into a chant of expletives that run into an endless series of moans.
Just as he pulls out and looks up, however, my vision fades. The last thing I remember is his black eyes looking at me like he wants to eat me for dessert.
Chapter Two
Brax
The paperwork on my desk might as well not be there for all I can concentrate on it. Every day I sit in this office, trying to work, trying to help students, and every day all I do is think about his screams as I try not to get an erection.
He was so ... needy. Expressive. He didn’t care that we had only just met or that we were different species. He simply wanted to feel good. The many orgasms I have given myself since don’t hold a candle to the painful hard-on that strained my pants that night. Oh, how I wanted to enjoy him. To bury myself to the hilt and enjoy him all night. But he’s only human, and I wouldn’t risk him.
He’s too special for that. No. If I want to have him again, I’ll need to find out who he is and ask. Ask him what, though? On a date? To be a regular hookup?
I don’t normally have to do this.
My hand scrapes down my face in frustration as a knock sounds at the door. “Come in.” I settle my papers together and glance at the calendar on the wall, reminding myself of thisappointment, and place an even smile on my face. “Mr. Retter, please come in,” I say, grabbing the failed essay from the pile and placing it on the desk between us. “Please, si . . .” I trail off as I look up, recognition flooding through me.
Shit.