Page 16 of Light Me Up

"Breathe," I instruct him, watching his face as I push the second finger inside. He breathes out and then groans as the second digit pushes past the tight ring of muscle. "Bear down for me," I tell him. "Like you're trying to push me out." He does, and the muscles relax further, the motion sucking my fingers further into his ass. "That's it. Just like that. That's how you get the muscles to relax. Your instinct is to clench up, but you have to bear down instead." I feel his ass ripple around me as he tries it again, and I push both fingers all the way in.

"So good," I praise him, and he leans down to kiss me while I fuck him gently with my fingers. "How does it feel?" I ask him.

"Different," he says, his voice low and thready.

"You ready for the next part?"

His eyes widen a little, and I chuckle. "No, not that. You're not ready to take my cock yet." I pull myself up to my knees, situating myself so I can see everything. "God, I love watching my fingers disappear inside your tight ass," I say huskily, looking away only to watch his face as I flex my fingers.

Henry hisses in a breath.

"Oh yeah, there it is."

The pads of my fingers brush over the soft, smooth mound of his prostate and he bucks. I massage him from the inside, going as wild as he is for the way he's moaning. He's not even touching his dick, he's just gripping the towel beneath him, writhing against my hand. His moans are low and guttural, and I have the primal urge to rut into him like a fucking animal. His climax comes fast, and he shouts as if surprised by it, but I also know how intense it can be. I reach for his cock, stroking his orgasm from him, still massaging his prostate. He keeps coming,his dick jerking and pulsing even after the fountain of cum has stopped aside from the milky white fluid that drips from the end.

"Ian," he cries. "Fuuuucckk!" He roars as a fresh wave of cum spurts from his cock in spectacular fashion.

"Holy fuck," I exclaim, reaching with my free hand to jerk my cock because I'm about to come whether I touch it or not. I barely get two strokes in before I'm coming all over his cock, balls, and ass.

Once I catch my breath, I gently pull my fingers from him and wipe them on the towel beneath us before collapsing next to him. He turns to face me, pulling me against his body and kissing me fiercely. Our bodies come together, spreading our combined release between us. Eventually we manage to come down, laying face to face, staring at each other in awe in between light kisses and awkward chuckles.

"I hate to break it to you, Daddy. But you're a born bottom."

He looks a little unsure of himself, like he’s rethinking his entire identity and not just his sexual preferences. He almost looks embarrassed, and I’m quick to correct that nonsense. "That was?—"

"The fucking hottest thing I've ever seen in my life," I finish for him. "I didn't think that really happened. You're like a fucking unicorn sex god."

Henry barks out a laugh. "What?"

"Baby, you just came once from my fingers in your ass alone, and then fucking erupted a second time when I milked your prostate."

"And that's a good thing?"

"It was so hot,Ifucking came. Did it feel like a good thing?"

"Well, I mean, yeah, it was pretty… Okay, it was the most intense orgasm I've ever had."

I bite my lip and move my mouth to the shell of his ear. "Just wait until you're coming with my cock buried in your ass," I whisper.

CHAPTER 9

HENRY

Alright… so apparently, I’m a bottom.

A damn needy one at that.

Since the moment Ian stretched me open and stroked my prostate, I've been on him like a cat in heat. It's everything I can do not to bend over and present myself at any given moment. We've barely left the bedroom for anything more than hydration and to accept food deliveries. It's become a challenge to see who can get each other off more times, although Ian has an unfair advantage, considering I apparently have the most sensitive prostate known to man. We spent a long time getting very comfortable with each other's most intimate parts, and he walked me through not only how to find his prostate, but my own.

Two weeks ago, I would have never even considered sitting in front of another man, spread eagle, fingering my own asshole. Or begging a man over twenty years my junior to fit yet another finger inside me, because I crave the stretch. But I'm a fiend.

I was already getting a little needy after he took care of me so well when I pulled my hamstring. I got used to his touch andattention, and just like that, I started craving it whenever he wasn't around. He's like a drug. I'm really not sure who I am anymore, or where this sudden need for physical touch came from, but I'm addicted to his fingers, his mouth, his skin on mine in any capacity.

What's even more is that somewhere along the way, I started craving him on another level than just physically. His smell calls to me, and I miss it when he's not around. If I don't find an excuse to get him in my bed for the night, I end up with my nose buried in whatever pillow he had his head on last. A couple of times I even wore one of his carelessly discarded shirts while he and Michael went to work and I was stuck at home. Imagine the smirk on that cocky bastard's face when he came home unexpectedly to see me stuffed into one of his too-tight tank tops.

The personality traits that used to rankle my nerves have somehow become endearing, and I have to force myself to pretend to be irritated with him. Especially when Michael is around. But the last day and a half, since Michael went out of town, we've been free to just be without the pressure of anyone finding out. It's been peaceful. Comfortable.

It's been a long time since I enjoyed the companionship of another person aside from my son. I've never been romantically inclined, or so much as tempted to spend so much time around another person. The mere idea of having to share my space, my free time, mybedwith another human being felt like a chore. I've gone out on dates and had occasional casual sex partners, although few and far between, but really only because it was something I felt like I should be doing. Not to say that the sex wasn't good, I always got off and took the time and effort to make sure my date did too, but it never felt like this.

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