Page 68 of Felix

“Like…what?” I huff between breaths.

“At my mercy,” he answers.

“Oh, fuck you.”

He laughs, knowing full well I love it. And asked for it. “No thanks. I’ll be doing the fucking today.”

“Vixen.”

“In time, sweetheart. I’m not done playing.”

I groan, but Christian continues to take his time, avoiding my prostate as he fingers me open. Two fingers slowly become three. He presses downwards as he moves, the tugging pressure on my rim damn near driving me mad.

“Come on,” I moan. “I’m ready.”

“Not quite,” he says, his free hand cupping my balls. He rolls them in his palm, squeezing gently.

“God, fuck, Vixen.”

“Mm.”

“You—”

His hand slips along my cock, a single smooth stroke before his palm caresses the head, rolling, rolling, like he’s chalking a pool stick.

“Need…” I garble.

“You need what?” he asks, giving me another full stroke on my cock as his fingers press deep into my ass.

“I need you to fuck me before I smother you with this pillow.”

I toss it over my shoulder in demonstration, and Christian laughs, letting me know I probably hit the mark. His hand leaves my cock, smoothing over my backside as his fingers slowly retreat out of my ass.

“There it is,” he says smugly. I feel him shuffle closer before his body blankets mine. His lips press to my ear, voice much too soft to be picked up by the boom. “The cutest threat to my person I’ve ever heard.”

“I meant it,” I whisper back.

“I know.”

And with that, Christian lifts off of me and flips me onto my back. With quick efficiency, he sheathes his cock in a condom and tugs my legs up and into place around his hips. His hand settles under my ass as his other positions his cock, and finally, he’s pushing inside of me.

I arch into it, accepting the stretch, marveling at how this feels just like the other times we’ve fucked. Familiar, almost. Right. As if, from the get-go, I really did consider Christian mine. And I was his.

The realization makes me feel almost unbearably vulnerable. But the sensation only lasts for a moment because Christian, having seated himself fully, bends forward and catches my lips. He punches his hips at an angle that has me crying out, and then he swallows down the sound, fucking me harder, damn near mercilessly just like I asked him to. I lock my ankles behind his ass and sink into the bedding, unable to do anything but.

I don’t even realize I’m rambling, but when Christian’s lips drop to my neck, I can hear the, “God, yes. Please. Yes,” pouring from my mouth. Again and again, I plead, and again and again, Christian delivers. I feel like I might just burst apart, and when it hits me that yes, I’m about to, I gasp, “Coming.”

Christian pulls back quickly, and I don’t have time to mourn the loss before his hand is wrapping around my dick. “Come on. Paint yourself, beautiful.”

And fuck, that’s all it takes.

I come across my stomach and chest, my entire body seized tight. Christian groans, as if pained, and I realize it’s because he’s trying desperately to stave off his own orgasm.

As soon as I slump flat, I wave him forward. “Come on, come on.”

He seems to get the hint because he pulls out and crawls up over my chest. I strip his condom as Christian falls on his hands above my head, and with his cock positioned over my face, I stroke. I barely have time to blink before he’s coming across my cheeks and lips, his release hot on my skin. His accompanying moan is quite possibly the most satisfying sound I’ve ever heard.

As soon as Christian slumps, I let go of him. He scoots down my body, his eyes running up and down the mess on my skin before he barks a bright and joyous laugh. In a display of superb cheekiness, he brings his fingers to his lips and blows a chef’s kiss.

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