Page 48 of Six
“I’ll come so deep up your fucking ass that my jizz is going to become part of you.”
I just realized that this obsessed compulsion, this impulsive pull I feel toward him is a fucking two-way street.
“Do it,” I pant, clamping my muscles around his dick each time he pulls back. I graze my teeth over his lower lip and then whisper, “Own it.”
Rague digs his fingers roughly into my ass cheeks and then unloads inside me with a roar. His body stiffens, and he rams his cock three more times, pausing between pumps to let his cum reach the deepest part of me. I tighten around his dick, milking him dry, wanting to get every last drop.
“I’m going to fill this perfect hole every day,” he grunts while still shooting inside me.
I’m incapable of answering, only making weird, low, blissful noises. I feel like I’m floating, enjoying the echoes of pleasure. Rague is still leisurely sliding in and out of me. His hand is massaging my scalp, brushing my hair, and I’m still all wrapped up in his arms. I think I might be a little touch-starved since I don’t want him to let me go.
But then, I slowly become aware of a crushing pressure. Rague’s mighty chest is pushing against mine. I try to shift, to ease the burden currently preventing me from breathing, but he is heavily caging me in, and I can’t move him. Damn, the man is made of big, thick bones and solid muscle.
“Beastie, I need air to survive,” I almost wheeze out. He pulls away from the wall, taking me with him. I’m still pressed against his chest, one strong arm under my butt as he walks us out of the gym. His softening cock is still in me, and it lightly thrusts inside me with every step he takes.
“You can put me down,” I tell him.
“No.”
I huff irritably at his tone, but don’t say anything else.
He stops in the kitchen and sits me on the island before wrapping his hand around my throat and giving me a slow, dirty kiss.
I abruptly pull back, screaming, “Enchiladas!” Did the timer ring? I didn’t fucking hear it, too lost in Rague.
He frowns but lets me scramble back and off the island. I wince when his dick pops out of my very sore ass, but saving our dinner is my priority. Thankfully, they only got slightly brown on top. So, I pepper them with cheese—Rague doesn’t have fresh cilantro—and let them cool off. When I turn, he is staring heatedly at my thighs. Specifically at the slick path of cum currently running down my legs.
He spins me around, his chest against my back. He presses against me till he has me caged against the counter and uses his half-chub to gather some of the cum on my inner thighs with the tip. Then he pushes the cum-covered head of his dick inside my loose hole once again.
“Mine,” he growls, and I almost have a mini orgasm. Is he still floating on the post-sex cloud? What does he mean by that? That I’m his bitch? Because I surely am, for as long as he wants. I’ll serve his big gorgeous cock as often as he needs.
“Can’t waste premium juice, can we?” I tease him, trying to enjoy my buzz instead of having those confusing thoughts. He sniffs at my words.
We eat the enchiladas at the kitchen table, Rague sitting on a chair with me on his lap since the stubborn beastie refuses to take his hard dick out of me. I kind of like it, the physical closeness. I never had it before with my hookups. And the only person I let close is Sully. I must really be touch-starved.
We talk more about the warehouse project while he enjoys the enchiladas. My smile gets bigger with every bite and consequent satisfied grunt he lets escape. And when he moves to the cheesecake? The growls coming out of his mouth should be illegal for how hot they sound. He tells me about how his family has a thing for desserts, and I try hard to remember the recipe for Lori’s grandma’s butter cookies. Why? Because I want to hear Rague’s sexy, blissed noises and know I caused them once again.
I suddenly realize that I feel…happy. It’s usually a very fleeting emotion for me. I’m more worried, angry, upset, anxious about the future. This is nice.
Guilt slowly crawls up my gut. I’ve only thought about Sully a couple of times today. I know he’s fine on his trip, but soon he’ll be back, and…
Rague’s phone starts ringing, and he begrudgingly lets me go. I follow his bitable meaty ass until it disappears down the hallway. I wash the dishes and take a fast shower. I feel tired while I pull on one of Rague’s shirts. The work I did today and the delicious railing my ass has endured are starting to weigh on me.
I go looking for him to ask what time I need to set the alarm for tomorrow. I pass near the open door to the attached garage and frown at the two barrels of acid sitting in the corner. Are they for work?
Rague really likes his job. I wonder what it would feel like to wake up every morning content at the thought of starting a new day. Can’t do it. It’s too alien of a concept for me.
The demolition part is fucking dope, though. The construction as well, it has an exciting feel to it. It must be so rewarding to see something you built when you walk down the street.
My phone vibrates in my hand, and I realize I’m still standing in front of the garage door. I look down at the screen and smile at my brother’s text.
Sully-doo-Greetings from the capital
Me-U sound like one of those tourist postcards
Sully-doo- I’m a tourist here. Brad says hi
Me-Thank ur bestie for me
