“You want me to breed your slutty little hole?” I growl, taking his jaw in my hand and watching the way his eyelids flutter andhis lips part on a silent moan. “You want me to hold you down and shoot hot ropes of my cum deep into your guts?”
“Yes, Sir.” He groans, squirming in my grasp, straining to bring his lips closer to mine.
I can’t remember kissing anyone. Not outside of my memories ofthatnight, and none of that felt like kissing. Sloppy forced tongues while I gagged on the taste of booze and my own vomit isn’t the same thing. I’m sure I kissed someone once, probably more than once. Maybe I had boyfriends, lovers, men who knew my name and gave a shit about me. I can’t remember any of it. I don’t even know if it’s real or wishful thinking.
Ever since I watched Alessio lick the cum off my glove though, I’ve been thinking about licking into his mouth, tasting his lips, feeling the vibrations of his muffled moans and panting breaths around my tongue. My heart thunders again and a voice in the back of my head warns me against it. It could trigger a flashback, and that would ruin any fun we’re about to have. Worse, I could like it. I could crave it. I could want to kiss Alessio again, even after I leave here tonight.
He’s still while I wrestle with the possibilities, leaning into my grasp just enough that he’s not pushing past my hold on him, but if I were to let go, he’d crash right into my lips without effort. Each of our exhales mingle in the inch of space between our mouths, and with just one more shaky breath, I grab on to the impulse and slam my lips roughly into his.
His mouth gives way to my demand just as willingly as he’s bent to every other request I’ve made so far, and he whimpers around my tongue. Instantly, it’s laughable that I thought anything about this would trigger a flashback of that night. I was right—that wasn’t kissing. There was nothing hot or hungry or passionate the way this is. The beautiful control Alessio gives me makes my head spin and my cock throb, matching the rhythm ofmy lips moving against his as his jaw goes slack in my grasp and his whole body melts closer to me.
I was right to be worried that I could get addicted to this though. The hot drag of my tongue against his could create a brand new kind of itch under my skin that I might never be able to chase away.
I break the kiss with my chest heaving and lick my lips to savor the taste of him. The memory of his eyes hazy with lust and the swollen dampness of his lips is definitely going to be my new favorite jerk-off fantasy.
“Grab the lube and get up on the couch.”
He blinks like he’s coming out of a dream. Dropping the condoms carelessly, he picks up the lube and then wobbles to his feet.
“Wait,” I say before he can sit down on the couch. “Give me those.” I hook my fingers into the waistband of his briefs—I might even go as far as calling thempantiesthe way they cling to his body and make him look so damn pretty and delicate—and tug them down.
His cock springs free, long and uncut, darker than the rest of his olive skin. It bounces temptingly in front of my face, the foreskin already rolling back to expose his glistening cockhead and drooling slit. He steps out of the panties, and I wrap my hand around his shaft. I can just barely feel the heat of his skin through the leather. His eyelids flutter and his muscles tremble as he holds himself back from thrusting into my grasp.
I give him one slow stroke, dragging a choked moan from his throat before I let go of him and reach around to give his bare ass a sharp swat. His eyes go wide and his cock visibly jerks.
“On the couch, leaning over the arm. You’re going to finger that tight hole open for me and I want to see it.”
“Yes, Sir.” He throws himself onto the couch and scrambles into place, no longer trying to play it cool.
With him kneeling with his elbows braced on the arm of the couch, I have the perfect view of his hole as he bends over and his cheeks part. I groan and unzip my jeans, reaching inside to free my cock with the rest of my clothes still in place. Slowly stroking myself with one hand, I focus the rest of my attention back on Alessio, watching him reach between his spread legs, his fingers dripping with lube, to find his hole.
He circles his slippery fingertips around his rim and my cock spasms in my grasp.
“Talk to me, slut,” I rasp, wanting to hear all the composure bleed out of his voice as he fingers himself, getting more and more desperate for my cock.
“I’ve put on your glove and jerked off at least a dozen times already,” he confesses with a quiet moan as he slips one finger inside the tight pucker of his hole.
“It’s been less than a week.” I let out a rough laugh, my gaze fixed on the way his finger slides in and out. I grab his ass cheek with my free hand to spread it a little wider.
“I know.” He chokes out another slutty sound. “And I’m still so fucking horny for you I can’t fucking think straight.”
A frown tugs at my lips, and as much as I don’t want to ruin the moment or derail the dirty talk, I can’t help but ask, “Why?”
He slides his finger deeper, fucking it in and out a little faster, his breathing speeding up to match the impatient pace. “I have no fucking clue. Something in your eyes, the sound of your voice, I can’t get you out of my head.”
A surge of unexpected emotions rushes through me, and that voice in the back of my head warns me again that this whole thing is a bad idea, maybe even a dangerous one. But a much more primal part of me doesn’t give a fuck. All it knows is craving, and it turns out that being wanted by Alessio is even more addictive than meth.
I grab the bottle of lube he dropped between his legs after coating his fingers, and I squirt a generous amount onto my cock. He has two fingers working his hole now, his hips jerking and his balls visibly tightening.
“Say it again,” I grunt, shoving my jeans down just to my thighs and getting on my knees behind him.
“What? That I can’t get you out of my head?”
I grunt again, a needy, feral feeling pounding inside my chest, and grab his wrist to pull his fingers out of his hole.
As far as I know, no one knew or even cared that I died. No one looked for me, no one mourned me. But Alessio can’t stop thinking about me? He doesn’t even know me, but he’s breathing life into me.
“Again,” I growl, grabbing his hips and lining my cock up with his glistening hole.