Page 44 of Another Man’s Treasure

Wilder reaches around and palms my cock, stroking down the length and pinching the tip. I’m still so sensitive from coming, and the heat of his hand combined with the pressure in my ass has me ready to fly apart again.

Shallow thrusts inch him slowly deeper as my legs start to shake.

“What do you need, baby? What do you like?” He strokes my throat with those warm fingertips.

“Anything,” I practically sob, eyes rolling into my head as he slides deeper, my ass contracting around him. “Fuck, do anything you want, Wild.”

He groans and halts. “Godsdamnit, Oz, you don’t know what those words do to me.”

Before I can answer, he pushes me forward until my belly hits the mattress. Crawling on top of me, he holds my ass wide open and spears into me again, hitting deeper this time. The tip of his cock nudges my prostate, and I grunt, eyes rolling into my head.

His grip comes to the back of my neck as he slides deeper, so deep I can’t imagine him going any farther.

“So fucking tight,” he gasps. “Oz, this ass is perfect, sweetheart. Just relax for me.”

“I can’t; I can’t,” I moan as he plunges deep, his heavy sack slapping against the backs of my legs. “Fuck, Wild.”

He pauses, lifting off me as his cock kicks inside. “Baby, talk to me. You can’t what? You okay?”

Shifting backward, I impale myself on his thick length, rocking myself back and forth as he blows out a heavy breath.

“‘Gods,” he murmurs, “it’s beautiful watching my big dick disappear inside you. Keep doing that; don’t stop.”

That’s one command I’m happy to obey as I shift forward and back. Every thrust helps him sink deeper until we’re clashing together. His hands come to my hips, fingers digging in as he helps me keep the rhythm steady despite my best efforts to speed up, to throw us over that edge together.

My sack tightens against my body as my cock kicks against my thigh. Heat rushes through me, goosebumps coating my skin as I move faster.

Except he doesn’t let me, forcing me to slow down, to take him harder and deeper. His hips crash against mine until I’m panting and rocking, losing control of the rhythm.

Bliss hits with all the force of a hurricane, stars crashing behind my eyelids as orgasm rolls over me like a wave.

“Fuck!” he screams, and that single roar throws me fully into toe-curling, lost-my-hearing, can’t-focus-on-anything-but-ecstasy pleasure.

It sunbursts through me over and over as he pumps my ass full of sticky, hot cum, roaring my name. His voice goes rough and ragged toward the end, and when the pleasure starts to fade, I slump to the bed with him still buried deep inside.

His arms quiver as he comes forward, resting lightly on my back. Thick, hot cum drips from my hole as the last vestiges of orgasm flutter and flare through me. Cock kicking against the bedsheets, I let out a deep, satisfied groan.

He props himself partially up on both palms, dragging his nose along my wing base then up the outside of my wing. When he closes his warm mouth over the bone, I grunt and arch against him, ass flexing around the thick cock still buried deep inside me.

“Not again,” I moan. “I can’t do it again; oh my gods, you’ll be the death of me.”

“Shh, baby,” he whispers, still kissing random trails down one wing before moving to the other. “I’m just taking care of you, Oz. Enjoy.”

The soft kisses compared with his warm mouth have my body relaxing muscle by muscle, tension draining away as his cock softens and slips from my ass. He never stops kissing and rubbing until I’m so relaxed I’m barely fending off sleep.

Only when my eyelids begin to flutter closed does he roll off me and disappear toward the bathroom. The water cuts on, and he returns a few minutes later with a warm washcloth.

I snooze as he slowly, quietly spreads my ass and cleans the mess we made.

Is this what it feels like to be loved and cherished? Is this what Lemon and Bluebell feel like with their mates? The star-filled sky outside the window beckons, snow falling peacefully down to coat the trees.

This is so perfect, so right.

I wish I had it all the time.

Oz

I sip my coconut caramel latte, my right thigh nearly touching Wilder’s. Ginger sits on the bench to my left, her head resting on my knee. I’m as painfully aware of Wilder’s warm body so close to mine as I am the crumpled, aged paper sitting on the tabletop.