Page 29 of Isaiah and Jameson
He licked and lapped, closing the wound, easing back.
“Don’t run away.” Jameson rocked under him, water splashing.
“I need. I need.” He thought hard about being trapped between Jameson’s cock and teeth.
“Yes.” Jameson shoved him back until he banged against the side of the tub, lifting his hips and spreading his legs.
He felt manhandled and exposed and he was hard as nails.
Slamming between his legs, Jameson pressed the tip of that rigid cock against his hole, the water not easing the crazy scratch and scrape at all.
“Please.”Fuck me. Bite me. Take me.
Mine.The word echoed in his head when Jameson took him, cock pushing in and owning him.
His eyes went wide, but all he could see was Jameson. Those dark eyes held him, not letting him hide as he was utterly possessed.
Mine. Jameson insisted.Hear me. Mine.
Yours.In this private place he could agree, even if he knew it wasn’t that simple.
Yes!Jameson’s head dropped to his throat.Ask me.
What?
Ask for my teeth. My bite.
Please. Yes, please. Your fangs.
Jameson’s cry was wild, and the bite was deep, transporting Isaiah out of himself, making him part of something bigger, something melded with Jameson. He flailed for anything solid, but Jameson held him suspended.
He wailed, filled and wild and desperate for a connection.
Jameson really dug in, shaking him a little. Those lean hips rocked, Jameson slamming into him.
“Help me!”
Give yourself over, pretty one. Let your pleasure come, let go of control.
No. His whole life had been control for decades. Maybe centuries.
“I don’t know how!”
Jameson pulled back, then struck again in a different spot, pulling blood from his body.
His world was nothing but Jameson, but heat and blood and pleasure, and he sank into it with a soft moan, trusting that someone would have him.
I will not let you fall, love. I swear it.
“Love.” He arched, falling into Jameson’s hands.
Jameson licked the spot closed, then laughed, the sound sheer joy.
“Oh…” He melted, sighing as Jameson pounded into him. This felt so right, so perfect that he couldn’t bear it if Jameson stopped now.
“Not stopping. Breathe, little love.”
Breathe? They didn’t have to, did they? Maybe it was a yoga thing. Breathe in, then out.
