Page 82 of Unlocked Dive
I brush his prostate until his knees buckle and he arches back against my palm.
“Are you ready for me?”
He’s not, not really. But he’s craving punishment and I’m chasing revenge, and this is how we both get what we want. When he hesitates, I pull my fingers free and step outside the heat of his body, leaving him open and empty. “Give me the truth.”
“No,” he admits, then shudders at the sound of me slicking my cock with lube. He tilts his head as if to look back at me, but his eyes are still closed. “And yes.Give it to me.”
There it is.
I slide the tip of my cock through his crack and nudge at his hole. He’s gone tense and shaky again, but I’m done with foreplay.
“Remember what I told you about the pain? Make it matter. Let me in,Coen.”
He tries, but I still have to force my way through the first ring of muscle. As I breach him, he sucks in a breath, squeezing the head of my dick almost hard enough to bring me into his pain.
Butholy fucking shit, I’m inside Byrd Baardwijk.
Well, barely.
“That’s it.” I catch his hands and lace his fingers with mine, drawing them up above his head. “Strangle my cock with your tight virgin ass. You can’t stop me. You’ve never been able to stop me,and you don’t want to now.You want me to fuck all that worthless guilt right out of you.”
He nods, a short jerk of his jaw, and I feed him the rest of my cock in one hard thrust, covering the line of his body with my own as his eyes finally fly open, a whirlpool of panic and need.
“I’m notGabe,” I say, low and ruthless, letting the name tear through us both. He goes rigid with shock, but it’s too late—I’m inside him, and he’s never getting rid of me now. “I’mEcho, and this ass ismine.”
And then he melts for me, and it hits meeverywhere. His head falls back onto my shoulder as the last tension leaves his muscles and his tight, hot channel stops strangling my cock enough for me to start to move.
My anger is a distant, buried thing, drowned out by the sheer wonder of finally having him like this. Each stroke is rough and deep, and each time I bottom out, I grind my hips, straining to get even closer.
My name rumbles in his throat, an unending prayer, and I know I should slow down—make him come first and take care of him the way I promised. Instead, I release his hands to yank his hips toward me and punish his prostate, using him ruthlessly until my knees buckle and the sweat on his back turns into stars.
“Mine,” I growl again as I explode, filling him, the heat and slick of my cum coating his walls and my pulsing cock. I give him a few more lazy thrusts, reveling in the new sensation.Holy fuck.
No wonder he fucking loves this.
He turns to look at me over his shoulder, flushed and panting, and I lean in to capture his mouth.
Is this the first truly honest kiss between us? I can taste the desperation on his tongue, and I slide my hand around to grip his neglected cock. He moans into my mouth, bruising my knuckles against the door as he ruts into my fist.
Reluctantly, I slide free, and he rotates to face me, hurt and hungry.
“Don’t worry,” I tell him, backing toward the bedroom as I unbutton my shirt. “That was only the first round.”
His eyes drop to my dick.
“You’re still hard.”
I give myself a squeeze. “I’m twenty-one, and my cock was made for this. It was made foryou. I’m not gonna be done until I’ve fucked away the memory of every other cock you’ve ever tasted.”
35
Byrd
Where is the line between penance and salvation?
Somewhere in the middle of his ruthless thrusts, I crossed over into absolution, pain melting under the raw onslaught of desire. There’s a freedom in being used for his pleasure that gives my own a sharper edge. I couldn’t fight him even if I wanted to, and it drives my arousal higher in acute spikes, peaking in some kind of savage satisfaction beyond orgasm when he comes hard inside me for the first time.
But if this is atonement, surely my dick shouldn’t be this hard.
