I shift my hips on the bench, spreading my knees wider in blatant invitation. “God, yes,” I agree, feeling my entrance clench with anticipation. “I’m ready for you.”
Victor pauses, bottle already uncapped in his hand. “How ready?”
I look back over my shoulder, making sure to catch his eye as I deliberately lick my lips. “Pretty well stretched already. Been starting every morning, bouncing on my extra-large dildo.” I pause, watching his expression darken. “Imagining it was your cock the whole time.”
Whatever was holding him back dissolves. A guttural sound tears from his throat, not quite a growl but something deeper, more primal. His hand trembles slightly as he pours lube generously over his length, working it with quick, efficient strokes.
“Fucking hell,” he mutters, stepping between my spread thighs. The cool slickness of the lube against my entrance makes me gasp as he drizzles more directly onto me. His thick fingers spread it around my rim with surprising gentleness that contrasts sharply with the naked hunger in his eyes.
Then he’s positioning himself, the blunt head of his cock pressing insistently against me. There’s a moment of resistance, a breath where we both hang suspended—and then he’s pushing in with one fluid thrust, stretching me wider than any dildo could prepare me for.
The stretch is exquisite—that perfect edge between pleasure and pain that makes my toes curl and my back arch. Victor bottoms out, his hips flush against my ass, and I can feel him everywhere, filling spaces inside me I didn’t know existed.
“Fuck, you take my cock so well,” he growls. “So fucking tight.”
He pulls back slowly, almost withdrawing completely before slamming back in with enough force to knock the breath from my lungs. I moan shamelessly, pushing back against him, wanting—needing—more.
“That’s it,” Victor says, thrusting, making the bench creak beneath us. “Take what Daddy gives you.”
The word sends electricity down my spine. “Yes, Daddy,” I gasp, not even trying to hide how much it affects me. My cock throbs, leaking precum onto the leather beneath me.
Victor notices—of course he does—and one of his hands slides beneath me to grip my length. “Look at you, so hard for Daddy,” he says, voice dropping even lower. “Such a good boy.”
The combination of his words, his hand, and the relentless pounding against my prostate has me spiraling toward the edge embarrassingly fast. “Please,” I beg, not even sure what I’m asking for.
“Please what?” Victor demands, slowing his thrusts torturously. His thumb circles the head of my cock, spreading the wetness there.
“Please don’t stop,” I manage, voice cracking with need. “Please, Daddy, I need it. Need you.”
His laugh is dark and satisfied. “That’s what I thought,” he says, releasing my cock to grab my hair instead, pulling my head back just enough to strain my neck. “My needy boy.”
He slams back into me with renewed vigor, the new angle hitting spots that make my vision blur. His other hand deliversa stinging slap to my ass that has me crying out, cock jerking between my legs.
“You like that?” Victor asks, delivering another sharp smack. “Like it when Daddy gets rough with you?”
“God, yes,” I moan, beyond shame now, lost in the perfect storm of sensations. “Harder, please.”
Victor’s rhythm becomes punishing, almost brutal, with each thrust. My body reacts instinctively, pushing back to meet him. Every nerve ending feels electrified—the sweet burn of the stretch, his hands marking my flesh, the delicious edge of pain when he yanks my hair.
“Look,” Victor commands, his voice a rough growl that vibrates through me. “Watch yourself take Daddy’s cock.”
I force my eyes open, meeting my reflection in the mirrored wall. The sight nearly undoes me. My face is flushed, my lips swollen and parted around desperate breaths. Victor towers behind me, his massive frame making me look so delicate by comparison. His muscles flex with each powerful thrust, sweat glistening across his tattooed chest and shoulders.
“See how beautiful you look impaled on my cock?” he growls, one hand sliding up my spine to grip the back of my neck. “Fucking made for this.”
I can only moan in response, unable to look away from our reflection. Victor notices my fascination and smirks, slowing his pace to deliberate, grinding thrusts that have me whimpering.
“You like watching, don’t you?” His fingers tighten on my neck. “Such a dirty boy.”
“Only for you,” I gasp, surprising myself with the raw honesty in my voice.
Something shifts in Victor’s eyes—a flicker of vulnerability quickly masked by intensified desire. He releases my neck to grip my hips with both hands, angling me slightly higher as he resumes his brutal pace.
My cock throbs painfully between my legs, untouched but straining toward release. Every nerve in my body is focused on where we’re connected, on the exquisite fullness and the building pressure at the base of my spine.
14
VICTOR