Page 70 of Bull Rush

“I know he leaves you feeling empty, sugar, but I want to hear you try to fake it. I want to hear those little pretend gasps of awe you make for him while you fuck yourself with his cock again.”

“Ramsey…” I let out a frustrated sigh. “Fuck.”

“I don’t think he’ll want to hear my name on your wedding night,” he muses.

“Fuck off.”

“I’m trying… would it help if you call me ‘daddy’ too?” He snickers, and I let out a shrill little scream that I don’t bother to bury in the quilt, which only makes him laugh harder. I want to curse him. Tell him how much I hate him—that I’m never letting him touch me again, but those would all be lies. So I offer the truth instead.

“Please. I wantyou.”

Those are the magic words because the toy disappears, and his cock replaces it in one deep thrust. A loud gasp slips free, and I swallow hard as I adjust to the difference, burying my face in the quilt as I feel his piercing again. I want to thank whoever or whatever gave him that idea.

“Fuck me,” I curse, and there’s an amused half-groan as he slides out of me and back in again.

“That better?” he asks. It’s rhetorical. He knows it is, but I also know his ego likes to hear it.

“So much.” I moan when he hits a pace that finally starts to spark and bloom little currents through my body. He keeps it for a minute, letting me chase the edge and counter him with the roll of my hips. But then he slows again, and I hear the sound of him opening a bottle.

I feel the cool drip of lube against my ass, and then the tip of something silicone follows, barely brushing against my skin.

“I know we’re still working you back up to me, sugar, but you can take him. He’s so much smaller. Just the tip first. You can do it.” His voice is the perfect mix of raspy need and soothing comfort. I could drown in it—so distracted by it that I don’t have it in me to argue.

I pant as he teases me with it, starting to press in and then pulling back again, slowly and carefully warming me up to the sensation. I grip the bed, curling my fingers around the edge of it, and try to breathe.

“Not with you inside me. It’s too much.”

“Nah, darlin’, it’s gonna be perfect. You’re so close. This is gonna help take you over the edge.” He teases it along the seam again, and I take a deep breath to try to steel my nerves. “Besides, we’re practicing, right? Gotta get you ready for the big day… When he finally gets his turn to have you here, but you’re still imagining it’s me inside you instead.”

“Ramsey!” I protest, so distracted by scolding him that I don’t even notice him slipping the toy inside me at first. Not until the fullness of it starts to sink in, and I whimper his name a second time. “It’s so much,” I murmur. It’s good and too much all at the same time.

“You can take it. You’re a good little wife, Haze. So good for me. I’ll reward you with my mouth later, suck on that sweet clit of yours for hours on my knees if you give me this.”

He eases more of the toy inside me while he fucks me, and I roll my hips to try to get more of the vibration on my clit. I need it to help me stay focused while I adjust to how overwhelmingly full it feels. Especially when Ramsey’s already taking up so much room that I feel like I can barely breathe.

“You good, sugar?” he asks once he has it in as far as he planned.

I take a breath and a quick inventory. I’m full, tormented, and dying to fucking get off, butI’m good.

“Yes,” I say softly.

“That’s my girl. I knew you could do it.” He starts to ease in and out of me with slow thrusts of his cock while he holds the toy still, and the vibrator hums on a low setting. It’s torture—pure and simple, but the kind that’s so good I can only manage to moan and mutter out a curse against his name in reply. “Fuck… You’re being so good for me. You feel so good, tightening around me like this. Fuck, Haze.”

He groans when he takes me deeper before he does the unthinkable and uses the toy to counter his next thrust, sliding himself in as he slides the toy out. He continues until I’m just a moaning mess being fucked from all angles, all of them in his control and me at his mercy. Then he presses me further, closer and closer to the precipice, syncing them back up again until I can barely use words. Every inch of me is on edge, so near to the release I need I can almost feel the feather’s edge of it.

“Fuck, listen to you. So sweet when you’re all filled up like this. Trying to take both of us at the same time without falling apart. You’re a mess, sugar. Such a beautiful fucking mess like this. I wish you could see how good you look with both of us inside you. Fuck Look at you.” He rubs my hip with his free hand. I glance back over my shoulder. It’s not a perfect view, not the one I really want, but it’s enough. The sight of us—him all muscles and tattoos, and me spread out in front of him in a pile of satin and tulle while he takes what he wants.

I shift to get a better look, and it brings my clit flush against the vibrator. I gasp and murmur how close I am before I try to rock back to take more of him and bring myself over the edge.

“You gonna come for me?” he asks, slowing down his rhythm to force me to answer him when I try to fight for control.

“Yes.” I gasp for my next breath. “Fuck.Please. Pleasemake me come.”

“Please make me come, who?” He stills inside of me, and I’m stuck on the edge, hanging by a thread and desperate for the fall.

“Please. Please, Mr. Stockton, make me come. Please!” The last please is more of a demand than a request, but it appeases him all the same.

“That’s better.” He gives my ass cheek a playful squeeze.

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