Page 115 of The Sinner's Sanctuary

“No trouble at all.” He replaces his fingertip with his mouth again and presses his tongue inside me. I groan at the more intense stretch, but my body is ready, and I groan when he curls and circles just beyond the rim.

I groan, shifting so I can wrap a hand around my cock. It throbs at the pressure I give it, but my strokes are slow and lazy, determined to be as patient as Gibson. I wrap my own lips around my forearm, moving my mouth in the motion of a kiss.

His next touch involves lube and two fingertips, still hyper-focused on my rim and applying more pressure. It’s all burn with none of the fullness I’m craving. It’s got me rocking my hips toward him, begging him without words to stuff my ass.

“Aren’t you hard?” I ask, bordering on desperate.

“I’ve been hard for an hour.”

“Fuck me.”

“I will. Patience, beautiful boy.”

My thighs shake, and I take a deep, fortifying breath. “I’m trying.”

“Does this hurt?”

“A little.”

“You need more or less?”

“More. Fuck.I need more.”

The sound of a condom packet ripping is music to my ears. I shudder so hard, my hand tightens around my cock, and I almost come.

I bite my arm, yank on my balls and manage to hold it off.

With a glance over my shoulder, I see that he’s naked from the waist down, his dress shirt open, his cock jutting up like a baseball bat as he rolls the condom over it. Our eyes meet, and he gives me a self-conscious half-grin. It makes my face heat. “I want you to sit on my cock,” he says.

“Now?”

“Whenever you’re ready,” he replies even as he lathers himself with lube.

I shift my position, bracing my hands on the sofa cushions and lowering my toes to the floor.

While he holds me steady with one hand and aims his dick with the other, I stretch back until my hole meets his crown. “Mmph…” The sound escapes me—my anticipation as sharp as the pressure of him on my rim. I let myself adjust to the broad stretch by rocking back and forth on my hands.

“More lube?” he asks.

“Inside me,” I say.

“Hold still.”

I do, allowing him to stuff a finger full of lube deep in my hole. I groan, immediately needing more. “Fuck, yeah.”

“So fucking hot,” he breathes. “Christian, I need you.”

Those are magic words. Fuck, they do things to me I amnotfamiliar with. I sink down again, taking more of his length inside me, and gasping the moment his crown hits my sensitive prostate. I play with the spot for a while, taking nothing more and nothing less. He only gets thicker from here, and everything about this depth is so fucking good.

“How’re you doing?” he asks, voice strained.

“Fuck,” is all I say, and again. “Fuck.”

“Take your time.”

I massage that spot until I’m positive I’m about to come and then pull off him, taking a few deep breaths and walking myself back from the edge.

“Chris…I…Christian…” The need in is voice is a direct hit to my chest.

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