Page 49 of Love Set Free

As promised, Phoenix had the driver take us to his house. But I honestly haven’t taken in much about it, other than it’s big and… Actually, that’s about all I’ve noticed. I couldn’t tell you a single thing about it, otherwise. As soon as we tumbled, one after the other, out of the town car Phoenix had us going around in today, it was a race to get in the house and a race to get our hands and mouths on each other as soon as humanly possible.

“Hmph. Whatever. Shut up.” Nipping at Phoenix’s succulent bottom lip, I ask—more like demand—" Where’s your bedroom?”

“Stairs. Up the stairs.”

Phoenix tries to gesture—I’m guessing in the direction of wherever the stairs are that’ll get us to the promised land of his bedroom—but his hands are firmly clenched in the few hanks of my newly shorn hair that are long enough to grip. So, all he manages to do is pull my hair, causing my mouth to pop away from his and making me moan. The moan is both in disappointment that he’s interrupted our mutual lip devouring and in pleasure because…fuck, it’s hot when Phoenix takes control. When he does whatever he wants with my body.

I don’t know how I get up the stairs without killing myself. Shit, I don’t even remember going up the stairs. One minute I’m wrapped around Phoenix, somewhere just inside his front door, and the next, we’re in his bedroom and he’s pushing me down onto a huge bed that may as well be the twin of the one at his parents’ house.

“Get naked. Now,” Phoenix orders. And I am more than on board with that directive.

I scramble to pull my sweater off. Needing it off because what once kept me barely tolerably warm now has me sweaty and overheated. Once that’s off, I internally swear when I realize that I still have on the t-shirt that was under the sweater. I should’ve pulled both of them off at the same time so that I’m closer to obeying Phoenix’s order faster.

Pulling that off, I chuck it to the floor to join the sweater I discarded. I see a blur of black as Phoenix’s sweater also lands somewhere in the general vicinity of mine, and I absently hope that the articles of clothing find happiness together, there on the floor of Phoenix’s bedroom.

It looks like it’s going to be a tie as to which of us get our lower halves naked first. But then, my hands unbuttoning and unzipping my borrowed jeans, I make a discovery that halts all of my progress, giving Phoenix the win in the getting naked race.

I’m hard. My dick is hard.

For the first time since… Long before I kissed Phoenix. Long before his cum first painted my skin. Long before he got me out of that box. Before I even left Tennessee and ended up in a box. Before I’d even heard the name Phoenix Wilding spoken through a telephone by a man I hadn’t met yet.

My dick is hard for the first time since…I can’t even remember. So long. Too long, perhaps.

Or, perhaps not.

Because, really, none of those other times my dick has been hard has even mattered. Not a whit. None of those other times were for Phoenix. None of those other people—those girls—were Phoenix.

And Phoenix is all that matters. From now until…ever.

I’ve no idea what plans Phoenix has for the bottle of lube he snags out of his bedside table—something fun, no doubt. Something we’d both enjoy, for sure. But whatever his intent is, I’m fairly sure I’ve a better idea in mind.

“Fuck me,” I order, my hands still clasped around the loosened waistband of my jeans. So, so near to the hard dick I can feel pulsing, throbbing,ready, just below the denim. “I want you to fuck me.”

Phoenix bobbles the bottle of lube, nearly dropping it, and only just catching it between his arm and his stomach.

“What? You…what?”

Have his eyes ever been so dark? Deep, mysterious pools of near-black.

“Fuck me,” I repeat. My heart is thump-thump-thumping in my chest, but my voice is calm and clear as I tell him, “I want you to fuck me. I need you to fuck me.” Begging’s worked for me in the past, so I’ve no hesitation in doing it again. “Please, Phee. I’ve thought about it. Before today, that is. And I want you to.”

Phoenix’s lips part, but I don’t want to hear any arguments from him. No doubts. No questions about if I’m sure or if this is really what I want. So, I do the thing that I’m 99% sure will win me any argument he wants to launch—I shove my pants and underwear down, letting my hard dick jut into the air. A totem of my want.

“Fuck, fuck,fuckme.”

His eyes are glued to my dick, avidly logging every detail, reveling—rejoicing?—in this first between us.

“No. Fuckme," I state. “That’s what I want, Phee. For you to fuck me. Please?”

“Jesus, babe, I want…” His lips gleam, the light of the lamps in the room reflecting off of them after he licks them hungrily. Needfully. “Are you… Are you sure?” Dark eyes flick up to meet mine, before irresistibly drifting back down to gaze at my dick.

“More than I’ve ever been about anything.”

One knee settles on the mattress, then two. He’s moving tentatively, cautiously, waiting for me to change my mind or takeit back. Clearly hoping that I don’t. The faint tremor in his hands only endears him to me more.

Phoenix lays the bottle of lube on the side of the bed. His hand reaches toward my dick, hovers over it, then slowly, gently, strokes across the sensitive head.

“We’ll go slow. I promise, babe. Step by step, little by little…slow.” He drags his hand down the length of my dick, down to the root. It’s loving, it’s worshipful, it’s savoring, it’s…

---