Page 120 of My Lovely Tragedy
How lovely.
I withdraw from the haven of his rear to bring my fingers to his mouth. As I press against his lips, he allows me entry, swirling his tongue around both digits, laving them in his saliva. I watch, breath bursting from between parted lips, feeling as if my skin is about to slip right off my body into a puddle of mush below.
“Fuck,Brooklyn,” I rasp as I withdraw my fingers, brushing his spit over his bearded cheek. His chest is heaving just as fast as mine as he cracks his eyes open to look into mine.
And he doesn’t need to say a word.
I canfeeleverything it is he is trying to tell me from that look alone.Make it all go away.
And that is something Ican do.
“Do not worry, my love. I’ll take care of you.” With a chaste kiss to his sweaty forehead, my arm wraps around his waist, fingers slipping between his cheeks to find the entrance to his body. The second I make contact, he twitches, the muscle fluttering. I groan at the sensation, letting my cheek fall against his.
Brooklyn’s fingers tangle in the longer strands at my nape, gripping and grazing. “Do you want me to enter you?” I circle the wrinkled flesh. His erection flexes in my other hand.
He nods against me, beard scraping my skin. With a hitch in breath, I press against him, groaning at the flare of heat enveloping the tip of my finger. Brooklyn’s muscles clamp around me as he gasps. I should stop, give himtime,but I don’t. I force myself through his barriers.
When my middle knuckle slides past his ring, his body starts to relax, every muscle slowly uncoiling one at a time. And it is incredible, watching the way his body works.
“Fuck, that’s good.” He breathes the words in a soft pant against the side of my face, sweat sliding between us as we curl over one another. Swirling and blurring into the metaphysical.
With the pad of my finger, I feel every smooth ridge of his insides, relishing in another groan that permeates the air. Then, I extend my digit, curling it outward and grazing his prostate. As my nail brushes over the small, rubbery gland, Brooklyn’s muscles lock.
“Oh, shit. I’m g-gonna—” He pants wildly against the base of my throat. I match every breath, feeling the sharp increase in my own heart rate. The constriction of his muscles makes it harder to move, but it doesn’t take much to continue small strokes against his gland, drawing more noise to rip from deep within.
“Pee,” he finally finishes. “Gonna pee.” A hoarse croak of embarrassment. And though the moment is anything but funny, I find myself chuckling. So filled with wonder. With adoration.
“Yes, my love. That is quite normal,” I murmur in his ear as I start stroking his flagging erection.
“I-I know, just not-not used to it.Ah, God.” He arches back, pulling his face away from mine, leaving my sweat-dampened skin feeling cold. My eyebrows furrow.
“I do not like you saying things like that,” I tell him, pulling back to add another finger, and feeling his push back to allow easier entrance into the haven of his body…That…it all blurs. “Magnificent,” I purr against his slick bicep, scraping his skin with my bottom teeth.
Brooklyn groans and stretches, jerking my head back. Closer to his face again. He knocks our heads together, foreheads sliding and stuck with stray hairs as more sweat blooms within the confines of our own little cocoon.
I thrust into the silk crease of his thigh, relishing in the scrape of coarse leg hair and the graze of his package against mine. With my hand still around his cock, I grind against him, tripling the pressure and the pleasure. Each rock sends my finger deeper into his channel, a near-punishing pace.
My hand aches, in the beginning stages of locking up, but I bite down the flare of pain. My darling is so close, his body is trembling with everything he is feeling, and I follow along right beside him, burning where he burns, aching where he aches.
Crying out as the flares burst through, overwhelming and devastating.
His testicles draw up close and tight to his body. My own erection slides alongside them, throbbing. And just as his channel starts pulsing on my fingers, his release spurts from his glans, soaking my fingers and smearing across our abdomens.
Brooklyn lets out a string of unintelligible words as he sinks his head to my shoulder, mouth limply grazing my neck. The constriction and wet heat whites out my vision as my own orgasm barrels through, slower and heavier andblinding.
“Brooklyn,” I rasp, tasting sweat and longing as I lean into him, pressing him into the cushions below. Blurring into one.
The weight of his chains across my shoulders is secondary to the drugging pressure of his wet, naked body against mine, beneath me and pliant. Mindless andgorgeous.
My breaths blow back against my face, making my skin crawl fromtoo much.I flick my tongue out, grazing the underside of his jaw and dragging up, pushing myself up to ease the pressure against his chest.
He sucks in a breath through his opened mouth, chest ricocheting, but his eyes are still behind his closed lids, eyelashes still clumped and damp where they rest against his darkened under eyes. I follow the curve of his plump bottom lip, over the cracks and fissures, the flecks of dried blood.
His hair is damp and stringy, tangled and in disarray where it’s splayed over the gray material of the sofa. I drag my nose through it before pushing up and leaning back, dislodging our torsos and letting my fingers slip from his body. At the feeling of separation, Brooklyn lurches forward, strangling me with his chains as he wraps his arms around my shoulders.
My laugh is cut off as his arms constrict, fresh tears springing from behind closed lids. “Darling,” I choke out. Brooklyn’s unhearing, head shaking back and forth as his body wracks with a fresh wave of quivering.
Our legs are still tangled, so I drag my heel back and forth over his calf, increasing pressure with every swipe. “Brooklyn, I am right here.” One arm loosens, so I shove my own through to hold his face, thumb grazing the shell of his ear.
