Page 23 of Nothing to Fear
Strong, steady hands remove my belt, unbutton my jeans, slide down my zipper, his dark eyes downcast, watching as he undresses me. Just as he’s about to pull them over my hips, he picks up his phone again, clicking start and showing it to me. I nod my head, and then it’s game on.
My pants are dragged down my legs, not a moment later, and a deep, primal growl echoes off the walls as my hard cock bobs free, slapping loudly against my abdomen. He moves quickly, pulling off my boots and tossing my jeans to the side.
His masked fingers trail lightly over my thighs, glowing against the dim light of the red hue illuminating us in the center of my room. His costume is tight, showcasing his toned body as my eyes drift over him. I settle on the bulge at hisfront, the thick, long cock that is well acquainted with my body. Goosebumps break out over my skin as I remember what it felt like to have his thick length fill me, how the engorged head of his shaft feels as it passes over my prostate. How it throbs when he comes . . .
“Fuck it,” he says out of nowhere, ripping his gloves from his hands. Then we’re skin to skin, and I nearly black out.
It’s as if everything in my life has led me right here. I don’t deserve it. But I want it, nonetheless.
He gently runs the pads of his fingers across the skin of my thighs, edging upward to my groin, passing through the crevice where my thighs meet my hips. His fingers trail those two spots, up and down, before moving on and gliding through the short, coarse hair of my pubic area. I sink into the mattress, my hips starting to buck forward, wanting his touch where I need it the most. But he doesn’t touch it.
Then he pulls back, and I’ve lost his touch altogether. I don’t dare glance at the timer, not wanting this to end, but also wanting to hold out so that we can both come together.
The masked man drops to his knees between my legs, and my mouth goes slack. Shit, I want his mouth on me. I want his tongue, his lips, the warm, wet heat to envelope me and take me over the edge.
“Close your eyes,” his distorted voice demands, and I comply, not wanting to do anything that would make this stop.
I nearly buck off the bed as his tongue replaces the path of his hands, slowly licking up each of my thighs. My skin pebbles with goosebumps, heat rising to my cheeks, pleasure a live wire through my body. I know my dick is leaking now, drops of precum dripping from my tip onto my stomach.
No words are passed between us, the only noise in theroom my harsh, heavy breathing. I muffle my moans by biting my bottom lip, trying so hard not to give myself away to my masked man.
His talented, warm tongue licks the base of my dick, taking his time, following the seam up the center of my sack. He laps at me while strong, confident hands reach under my sweatshirt, finding my nipples and gently rubbing circles around each.
I’m desperate.
Wanton.
Eager.
I’m consumed by every touch of his hands, every lick of his tongue, his warm breath against my skin, the bite of pain from his teeth. He’s reduced me to a whimpering, devastated mess. My hands dig into the blanket on my bed, holding on for dear life as I bite down on my tongue between my molars, my mouth pooling with the bitter taste of iron as I feel my dick start to pulse.
“Nuh-uh-uh, what did I tell you? You want your reward? You need to be a good boy.”
Jesus fucking Christ. I can’t take much more of this.
Warmth spreads through me as he spits on my hole and drags his finger lower, circling the puckered flesh as I begin to shiver.
“You want my finger, good boy?”
I nod my head frantically, desperate to feel him inside me. Desperate to come. He continues stroking my hole, easing inside me as a whimper spills from my lips. Just as his finger breaches the ring of muscle, the alarm blares, and I can’t hold back my groan of relief.
“Such a good fucking boy.”
He quickly pulls his finger from my body and grabs acondom and several packets of lube, shoving down the bottom half of his costume.
“You want to come? You’re going to come with me while I fill up your ass.”
I nod eagerly, my tongue darting out to dampen my dry lips. His head cocks to the side, clearly tracking the movement before his hand reaches up, the pad of his thumb swiping across the corner of my mouth and over my bottom lip. He holds it out in front of us, the crimson blood glimmering against the neon light of the room.
I watch with rapt attention, my heart in my throat as he lifts his mask just enough to slip his blood-coated finger into his mouth. He groans with pleasure, his head falling back. As if that single taste was enough to ignite the fuse, he returns to me.
Feral.
A single packet of lube is emptied onto two fingers, and then they’re at my entrance. This time, I don’t hold back the sounds that want to escape me. It seems to drive him wild, his fingers returning to my puckered hole before pressing firmly and swiftly inside me. I brace for it, the sweet burn, the stretch. Pleasure pulses from the spot of contact, where his fingers expertly work me open to accept his big dick.
I lose myself to the feeling, my hips gyrating, pushing my ass back against his hand, chasing more.
More.
