Page 46 of Fly Boy
Holy shit, Wyatt Grant has a Prince Albert.
His thumb teases the head, spreading pre-cum over the ball of the barbell. Bringing it to my lips, he smears it across my lower one.
“I’ve never fucked someone with their dick pierced,” I whisper, my gaze glued to the silver metal, my tongue following his thumbs path, moaning at his taste. A low rumble has me looking up from under my lashes, swallowing when he takes a step forward, his gaze filled with a silent command.
I open, sticking out my tongue as he taps the head of his cock against it, hissing when I flick it over the barbell.
“I’ve wanted to watch you swallow my cock every time you opened your smart mouth,” he growls, transfixed, as he watches his shaft slide back and forth. Arousal floods my veins, the unbelievable need to give him what he’s wanted overpowering me. I whimper when he takes his cock away, his hand coming to my chin and pushing my mouth closed.
Reaching out, I wrap my fingers around him, squeezing lightly and giving him a tentative stroke. He’s hot and heavy and I can’t stop looking at him, searching for his reactions as I touch him. Wyatt coils his hand around mine and increases the pressure tight enough that it’s nearly uncomfortable. His breaths deepen, jaw hardening as he stares down at me, at our hands working in tandem until he tears them away, freeing himself from our grip.
“Lay back, legs apart,” he demands.
He slowly brings one knee to the bed, followed by the other, his dark eyes predatorial as he kneels between my open legs, leaning forward to grab the condom and tearing it open with his teeth. Anticipation thrums everywhere as I watch him roll it down his cock, the motion so erotic for something not particularly sexy, and I lick my lips at the sight.
I am so ready for this. But like I told Wyatt, I’ve never had sex with someone with a piercing. Do they need extra lube, even with a condom? Do I need to be stretched a bit? I mean, the piercing itself isn’thuge…but Wyatt is.
“You can still back out,” he says, as my eyes follow his languid movements, mouth watering as I remember what he tastes like. “Pippa,” he snaps. “Look at me.”
“No.” My gaze darts to his. Immediately, I shake my head, my core tingling in fear of missing out of the pleasure his cock will undoubtedly bring. “I won’t back out. I want this.”
“Good.” He leans forward, his tattoo-covered body towering over me, his arms coming to either side of my head. His lips graze mine, teasing, tasting, before he presses firmly, and Imoan. He consumes my mouth, much like he did in the hall. If he fucks the way he kisses, there is no way I won’t be in trouble.
I squirm under him, my hips pushing upward in clear invitation. “Fuck me, Wyatt.”
He doesn’t say a word. Instead, he nips my neck, kisses my collarbone, stopping only to suck hard on the side of my breast—bruising, marking, claiming. I’m a quivering mess as he continues downward, his shoulders pushing between my thighs. He runs his nose up the crease of my leg, inhaling deeply.
“You smell so fucking good,” he rasps, looking up at me. His fingers part my pussy, exposing me as he lowers his face, his breath tickling my most sensitive area as he murmurs, “I bet you taste fucking good too.”
He doesn’t go slow, doesn’t ease me into it, doesn’t tease me the way I’m used to. Wyatt goes for gold in eating pussy, his tongue plunging deep inside me, his stubble lightly scratching the inside of my legs. As his hand snakes upward, my back arches off the bed, my chest ready for his touch. Only he bypasses my breasts, two fingers playing with my lower lip before pushing inside.
I wretch, the sound humiliating, but it makes Wyatt moan.
“You sound so pretty gagging around my fingers,” he says, his eyes hooded as he lifts his head. “I want to hear you choking around my cock. But right now, get them good and wet for me, Pippa. I need to stretch your tight little cunt if you’re going to take my cock.”
Greedily, I suck them into my mouth, swirling my tongue around them, showing Wyatt exactly what I’d do if it were his cock. He doesn’t go back to eating me out, his rapt attention on my lips and the obscene sounds coming from them. When he yanks them out, my saliva trails after them before they’re thrusting inside my pussy.
I cry out his name as I stretch around him. The delicious ache he created in his hallway is back, only to be heightened as his tongue joins in. The onslaught of pleasure has me spiraling, the edge of oblivion within reach as I grab his hair, tugging him up.
“I don’t want to come on your fingers again,” I breathe. “Fuck me, Wyatt. Make me come on your cock like you promised.”
The look he gives me as he withdraws from my body is carnal, his eyes wild as he prowls up until we’re face to face. He looks feral with his cock nudging at my entrance, my pussy desperate, but he doesn’t move any farther.
Wyatt’s shoulders tense as he balances on one hand, the other sliding between us, running the thick head through my pussy, hitting against my clit, the odd sensation of his piercing making my eyes roll into the back of my head. He repeats the move, each time getting a little harder, until he notches himself against me again, pushing in just an inch.
The stretch is already greater than his fingers prepared me for, his cock thick, filling me with each gradual move of his hips. My eyes flutter shut, the feeling too much, as the back of my head digs into the pillow, my mouth gaping wide, lungs burning as I hold my breath.
“Fuck,” he groans, tipping his head back as he pulls out slightly before diving deeper. “Do that again.”
“What?” I breathe as I open my eyes. A bead of sweat lines Wyatt’s brow, his arm shaking as he hovers above me.
“Whatever you just did,” he grits out from between his teeth. “Do it again.”
I don’t know what I did, but as he draws back to the tip, I clench around him when I feel that metallic ball inside me, bumping and rubbing in all the right places.
“Yes,” he growls, bottoming out. “I can feel you squeezing me.”
Lifting my legs, I circle his waist, tightening around him as he groans.
