Page 55 of Beautifully Devoted

“Shh.” His deep, soothing voice reverberates through me as he whispers in my ear, and I feel another finger pressing against my hole. “I know.”

This intrusion is just as uncomfortable as the first, though it’s quicker to fade since Cam makes sure to brush over my prostate each time he pushes inside. The gesture gives me a few seconds of bliss to mask the fact he’s scissoring his fingers to stretch me enough to take his cock.

The pressure on those sensitive nerves is a wicked tease, a tiny sample of euphoria that’s ripped away almost as soon as it’s offered. Logically, I know why Cam’s thoroughly focusing on my hole, but the primal desire he’s stirring trumps my sense of reason. So while my body is pliant enough to take a third finger, I’m a writhing, mewling mess, begging for relief as my ecstasy is denied over and over again.

“Give me your dick, Cam.”

“Not yet.” He gives me a few shallow pumps before plunging his fingers deep, tickling my prostate, pulling nearly all the way out as I bite the fleshy part of my palm to stifle my exasperated cry.

“Please,” I whine.

“You’re not ready.”

“Bullshit. Feel how hard my cock is.”

“It’s not about your cock, Kitcat. It’s about whether your ass is ready for mine.”

“It’s ready. I need it. I’m so hard it hurts, Cam. Please.” Words spill out of my mouth faster than I can register what they are, but I don’t even care how desperate they make me sound, I just want relief. “My cock is literally going to combust if it doesn’t unload, and I might die if you don’t get your dick in me right now.”

“Jesus,” Cam mutters.

Yeah, I’m unhinged.

“Cam,” I plead. “I can’t take anymore. I need it now.”

A squelching sound echoes through the otherwise silent room as Cam withdraws his fingers, and I hear a similar sound as he squirts lube over his cock.

Glancing over my shoulder, I see him spreading the gel over his engorged length, which my ego would like to say is as full as I’ve ever seen it, but I’m probably too lust drunk to be thinking clearly. The fact my mouth is literally watering, watching Cam pump his dick would confirm that. Who the fuck knew you could legit lose your damn mind by being too horny?

All I know is, I’m no longer Daddy Issues Jagger. I’m some savage, desert animal on the verge of dehydration who just found a puddle. Excuse me while I pounce and horde it all for myself.

I force my gaze forward as he finishes his prep and lines himself up. Holding my breath as he starts to press forward, I feel the stretch. It almost burns this time and it takes everything I have to grit out a few words instead of whining in discomfort. I’m not sure I have the dignity to spare for that.

“Slow!” I force through my teeth. “It’s not a goddamn race to my prostate. Jesus.”

“Sorry,” he whispers, but the word comes out almost a chuckle, making me roll my eyes in protest.

Still, I hold steady, refusing to admit he might’ve been right about the whole not being ready thing, and will my body to relax as he invades it. Closing my eyes, I try to keep my brain busy while my ass adjusts.

I am strong.

I am horny.

I can take it up the ass.

People do this everyday. They don’t die. They don’t need a donut to sit on afterward. Liam certainly didn’t. It’ll be alright.

“Holy shit,” Cam pants behind me. “This is… Oh God. Holy shit, Kitcat.”

He sounds nearly as unhinged as I am, or was, but his beast of a cock is so distracting, it sort of fucks with my euphoria, and the sex high I was feeling a few seconds ago is a distant memory.

The orgasm that had been taunting me for the last twenty minutes or so fades away, and my dick starts to go a little limp. That realization has me on the verge of tears—I wanted that release so bad—right up until the head of Cam’s cock bumps into my prostate, and my body lights up like a carnival coming to life.

Air is sucked from my lungs so fast, I feel lightheaded. My dick plumps, becoming so obnoxiously hard that I’m half convinced it’s tripled in weight. And that burn I felt a second ago vanishes, replaced by a need that borders on animalistic.

“Move,” I grunt, somewhat shocked to realize I have the presence of mind to speak. It’s only when I feel Cam’s muffled response on the place where my neck meets my collarbone that it registers he’s biting me, most likely to stave off his own release. Or a scream.

The notion of either makes me hotter than it should.

---