Page 7 of Mine to Claim

I brush my thumb along his bottom lip, and he trembles. “Nothing wrong with this. Understand me?”

He doesn’t verbally comply but goes on sucking, and as he does, his body loosens, and he moans.

“That’s my good boy. You felt so good stretched around my tip. Can’t wait to fully claim you. Fuck you deep next time.”

His gaze is unfocused, body pliant.

Time to prep him for more. He quivers beneath me, accepting the pleasure as I work him open, pushing my cum back inside.

I withdraw my fingers, then kneel between his splayed thighs. Teasing my swollen tip down his crease, I nudge against his sloppy rim, and a thrill spreads throughout. "Ready?"

He takes a deep breath, then nods.

I press in slowly, groaning as his tight heat envelops me. "That's it, open up for me."

He whimpers, inner muscles fluttering as I sink deeper.

"That's it, Devon. You're doing so well."

Once fully seated, I start a measured pace, snapping my hips harder, punching grunts from his throat. The headboard slaps out my relentless rhythm as I drive into him, while our slick skin bonds us as one.

I fuck him deep and thorough, drunk on his smothering heat, every thrust calling up my release. Eventually I slow to a deep grind, hooking his knees wide.

"Look at that pretty hole stretched around me." I swivel my hips, stroking over his sweet spot until he chokes out desperate moans, moans that make my cock ache, knowing I’m the cause of such a delicious sound.

I swivel my hips, pressing against his sweet spot. He gasps sharply, inner muscles clenching down hard enough to nearly make me fill him.

"Looks like I found your prostate. Makes you feel so good, doesn't it?" I nail it again with targeted thrusts, punching out shocked cries.

When he snakes his hand down to stroke his leaking cock, I slap it away. "Not yet, boy. I want to play with this toy you've just discovered you have."

I strike his prostate relentlessly as he tosses his head side to side, moaning, gasping, begging. "P-Please . . .Too much. I-I can’t. . ."

I slow my pace, letting him catch his breath, and he shudders, fresh slick leaking from his swollen head. I wrap a hand around him, pumping steadily in time with my thrusts.

"Don't fight it. Give in to the pleasure." I twist my fist on the upstroke, wringing another moan from his lips, the sound so deep, so intoxicating, my balls rise up and tighten as a heady tingling release builds and builds.

His hands twist in the sheets, head thrashing side to side. Right as he's about to peak—me along with him—I stop my movements and pull out. I’m not near through with him. He sobs, desperately humping the air.

"You’ll come when I’m done taking what I want."

I flip him onto his stomach, pulling his hips up to kneel, then gathering both wrists in one hand, pin them to the small of his back. "Behave or you don't get to come at all."

He stills, whimpering as my tip nudges his now loose rim. I plow back inside in one long slide, groaning at the velvety, hot grip.

"Fuck yourself on my cock if you want to come."

He hesitates, eyes glazed, as if his mind misfires. So I squeeze his weeping length. "Do it. Show me you want this."

Slowly, he complies, rocking into my palm, working himself between my fist and cock. The sight feeds my twin desires—his willingness fans my possessive flames, even as it touches the deeply buried need for connection.

"That's it. Just like that."

He bounces desperately now, head hanging as he fucks himself on me—forward into my tight grip, then back to impale himself again.

"Look at you, so hungry for it." I nip his shoulder hard enough to leave indents.

He sobs, muscles quivering from the strain. But he doesn't stop, spearing himself relentlessly on my cock, desperately chasing the edge.

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