Chapter 38
I plucked the condom out of his hand while he unbuckled his pants, tearing it open with barely restrained eagerness. I was a man with a mission, completely focused on the task at hand until Peter pushed two of his fingers against the corner of my mouth. I parted my lips for him, tasting my own arousal, and beneath that, the slightly sweet hint of tomato sauce. He pumped his wrist, fucking my mouth until his fingers were good and slick. I parted my legs in anticipation as he pulled his hand free, my ass clenching rapidly. He reached around me, fingers sliding between my cheeks until he reached my pucker.
He pushed in without waiting, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out the way I wanted. I was too tight, and we were both too impatient to take our time to loosen me up much. I’d feel every inch of his glorious cock when it went in.
How the hell was I going to keep from screaming when that happened? Whose brilliant idea was this to do it somewhere I couldn’t let it all out?
I propped my foot up on the side of the sink to make it easier for him, but that just made me wish I really could wrap my legs around his waist. He might be taller than me, but I had a good thirty pounds on him. I had to ask, though.
Licking my way to his ear, I struggled to catch my breath. “How strong are you feeling tonight?”
Peter huffed out a laugh. “Strong enough, but if we end up in an undignified pile of broken bones on the floor, you’re the one explaining it to the cops.”
In that moment, with this man, I was prepared to take the risk. Bracing myself between the sink and the door, I lifted my other leg and wrapped it around Peter’s waist. Like I’d expected, it opened my ass up more for him, but at the same time, pressed him even harder against my hungry flesh.
He had to grasp a cheek in each hand to keep our balance, so I returned the favor by angling his cock between my thighs. The covered tip nudged behind my balls, bumping almost awkwardly along until it found the slight dip of my hole.
I pulled my hand away. “Rest is up to you.”
“God, you’re crazy. You make me crazy.” Peter pushed his hips until the tip of his cock cleared the muscle. I immediately clenched down around him, biting my tongue to keep from crying out. He stilled, giving me time to adjust to his width, the burn already working its way down the back of my thighs. Peter pressed his lips to mine, his tongue invading my mouth as he moved his hips again. It almost felt like he was tearing me open, but I didn’t care. I craved more, knowing the ache under my skin wouldn’t be satisfied until he was fully seated. His fingers flexed on my ass, and he took a half-step back, letting gravity and my weight finish the job.
Kissing was the best way to keep me quiet, though my entire body shook as he filled me up. I was going to combust. No two ways about it. The base of my spine ached, radiating outward to the tips of my fingers and toes. I’d been right. I’d feel this for days. There’d probably be a moment or two where I’d be sore enough to wish I hadn’t been so impetuous.
This was not one of them. Because soon enough, the burn ebbed into a rolling simmer, my body ready—hungry—for more.
I clenched around his length once, and then relaxed. “I’ve wanted you to tear into me since I talked to you on the phone,” I managed in spite of our bruising kisses. “Don’t make me wait.”
Peter swore under his breath and rolled his hips. I bit out a plea for “more” just before he jerked his hips in a harder thrust. My shoulders hit the door, probably hard enough for people to hear, but before I could even process that concern, he was moving again. My legs tightened around him, my fingers digging into his shoulders as he set a hard, sharp rhythm. His mouth barely muffled my moans, and I felt more than a little light-headed from the lack of oxygen.
Neither one of us had touched my cock since I’d climbed on. I was too busy grappling for purchase, and he was too busy making sure he didn’t drop me, not to mention pistoning in and out of my ass at ever quickening speeds. The way we were going, I didn’t think it would be necessary, though I would’ve loved to feel his fingers curled around my shaft. He scraped across my prostate with each stroke. I don’t know how or why, but he managed to stimulate it each and every time we fucked. It was like his cock was specifically made for my ass, or he had some sixth sense about the perfect angle to take to make sure he hit it, or something along those lines. I’d stopped questioning it. No reason to overanalyze what turned our time together into the hottest experiences of my life.