Page 79 of Changing the Play

He pauses for a second and when I start to collapse against the bed, he pulls his fingers out and pushes them back in. I gasp, trembling when he presses a kiss to the small of my back.

Darcy hums against my skin, slowly—so fucking slowly—working his fingers in and out of me. “You’re shaking,” he whispers. “You can keep going for me, though, can’t you?”

The only answer is clearly yes, so I moan and rock back against his fingers. The feeling is almost painful in its intensity. “Perfect. So fucking perfect for me.” My cock gives a weak twitch. “You’ll come for me again, won’t you? Riding my fingers. Shaking and desperate.”

All I can manage is a whine.

Chapter 26

Darcy

“Roll over,” I murmur, pressing another kiss to West’s ass cheek as I pull my fingers out of him.

He does, quickly shifting until he’s on his back next to his cum. I barely give him time to get settled before I’m pushing his leg toward his chest and working my fingers back inside him. He chokes on a low groan, his whole body jerking as he takes them. God, he’s really something else.

Leaning forward, I swallow his cock to the back of my throat, relaxing my gag reflex just in time for his hips to buck up. His fingers grip my hair as he whimpers. He’s not fully thrusting into my throat. It’s more like he can’t control the movement, like his body’s trying to take what it wants without input from his brain.

For what it’s worth? I’m here for it. I love watching West squirm and fight and come untouched from just the slightest bit of stimulation on his prostate.

I sit up, pulling my lips off his cock and swirling my tongue around the head. He whimpers, his body trembling, his hips jerking up like he’s trying to chase my mouth.

“You’re a fucking dream, Weston Hale.”

He shudders, a little gasp leaving his lips as he rocks his hips on my fingers. He’s proving my point entirely, and it may be my favorite thing in the world. I truly wanted to drag this out. I wanted to finally,finallysee how many times I could make him come, but I’m barely hanging on and my cock is practically aching to be inside him.

“Fuck me, Darcy,” he mumbles, almost like he read my mind.

“Fuck, I want to. But I want you to come for me again.” Surely I can make him come at least one more time before I give in. I crook my fingers, smiling as a flush travels up his chest and he moans.

I let my fingers dance over his prostate, entranced as the muscles in his thighs bunch and tense and his toes flex. “You’re doing so fucking good for me,” I murmur, brushing my lips over the inside of his thigh while he squirms and whimpers, his head thrashing back and forth on the pillow and a sheen of sweat breaking out across his flawless skin. “You can come for me again. I know you can.”

I keep working my fingers in and out of him—slow, but relentless—not even giving him time to rest or collect himself. The stream of pre-cum flowing from the tip of his cock is all the proof I need to know it’s working and that it feels good.

I lap at the head of his cock, collecting his pre-cum on my tongue, living for the sharp inhale and raspy groan that falls from his lips when I do, before surging up to kiss him.

His hand finds its way into my hair, his big palm cupping the back of my head and pulling me in closer. For a second, I worry that kissing him after our earlier activities is not the right move, but if the way he’s moaning and licking into my mouth is any indication, he’s not the slightest bit concerned.

It shouldn’t be a surprise, really. “You’re fucking perfection,” I whisper against his lips when I break our kiss. “Absolute goddamn perfection, West.”

His arm moves and I glance down in time to see him wrap his free hand around his cock, his strokes choppy and desperate. “I can’t,” he whines, lifting his hips and fucking into his fist. This is too good, honestly. I’m barely hanging on myself. “Please, Darcy. Fuck me. Please, oh God—”

His body goes taut and his back arches, his cock jerks against his palm, but to my surprise, he lets it go. The sound he lets out has my cock aching and I watch as cum dribbles out and makes a puddle on his muscled stomach. His chest heaves with each ragged breath he takes and when I rub my finger over his prostate, he jolts, a hoarse cry tearing from his lips. His still-swollen cock bobs in the air, flushed red, and half-covered in cum.

“Do you need to stop?”

“No,” he gasps, his fingers flexing in my hair, tugging lightly on the strands. “I need you to fuck me. I don’t know what that was, but it was the most unsatisfying orgasm I’ve ever had.”

I can’t help but laugh, but I do pull my fingers from his body despite his breathy protests and grab the lube. I coat my cock quickly, and with his help, shove a pillow under his hips. He pulls his legs up toward his chest and I nearly stop breathing from the sight of his slightly gaping hole.

I notch the head of my cock against his entrance and push forward, my eyes almost rolling back with how fucking good the tight squeeze of his body feels. His little whimpers and groans aren’t doing anything for my stamina, though, so when I bottom out, I stop.

“Keep going, Darce,” he mumbles, fingers digging into his thighs.

“Shh. I can’t.” Not without blowing in two point seven seconds, anyway.

“You can’t? What? Why?”

“Because I basically just edged myself for half an hour and I need a damn minute to breathe since your hole is basically trying to suck my cum out of my cock without me even moving.”

---