I can hear the disbelief in every word of mine that he repeats.
Suddenly he shifts behind me. And then his fingers are sliding out, and I push my hips back a little involuntarily. I’d gotten used to the feeling of being filled up and now I miss it.
I don’t dare turn around.
I stare down at the rumpled comforter beneath me, watching the dancing shadows cast by the tree branches outside in the moonlight. I can hear him moving behind me, ripping open the condom packet over the sound of the bass from downstairs.
And I’m bracing myself.
Doing everything I probablyshouldn’tbe doing, tensing up and tightening and anticipating him shoving inside me.
I glance up at the wall and see the things I have hanging on my wall: a framed illustration of a retro pin-up girl, mocking me. More framed pictures of me and Rayne at parties in freshman year, probably drunk off of two beers on nights where I was constantly trying to find satisfaction and never getting it.
“Not touching you again ‘til you breathe.” Sev’s voice is low.
I pull in a long breath and wait for his cock to push inside me.
But instead, his free hand moves up and he pulls me upward, hitching my body up higher off the bed. I’m no longer folded over at a ninety-degree angle, but instead being pulled backward, and for a second I’m confused.
But then his palm lands on my throat.
He cups me there, pushing firmly, hovering right along the edge of choking me.
He was moving me so I’d be in a position where he could grip my throat.
“Swallow. Then breathe.”
His hand is there on my neck and my Adam’s apple moves under his touch as I swallow.
And then breathe deeply again.
“There you go.”
I want to scream at him. Let out a string of curses and turn around and deck him in the face. Ask him how he has the fucking nerve to treat me like I’m his plaything to command.
But I’m too focused on the warm weight of his hand around my throat.
Is it possible to want something so badly you don’t care anymore how you get it?
The moment his tip presses up against my hole I moan deeply, with no hope of hiding it. He’s holding me around my neck and I keep breathing, evenly and slowly, through the stretch as he starts to push inside.
My cock throbs in front of me. It hurts like a bitch, but I’m hard from it, anyway.
“Give it to me,” I utter, and it’s strange talking while his hand is right there picking up every reverberation of my voice.
“Baby, you don’t even have my tip, yet.”
I groan and push back a little, impatient, and I’m met with more pain.
“Fuck.”
His hand tightens on my throat.
He’s choking me in earnest, just for a couple of beats, restricting my air before he loosens his grip again.
“Breathe, Weston.” His voice is more of a command than it’s ever been.
I wouldn’t be able to deny him if I tried. I pull in a long, slow, even breath and his other hand squeezes tight on my ass cheek as a little reward.