Page 72 of Loverboy

“Are you always this loud, or is it just for me?” Jasper’s voice was smooth, nearly reverent.

“I’m not—” My protest unravelled into a cry, his calloused palm pressed firmly against my ass, stilling against the sweet spot inside of me.

“You’re not? So it is just for me,” he crooned.

He didn’t move, waiting for me to bite at the provocation. I rocked back and forth pleadingly, but no movement came. His laughter was deep and warm, followed by his teeth nipping at my shoulder.

“Stop teasing.” My voice cracked, and I wasn’t sure if it was a demand or a plea.

This time, it didn’t hurt. My knees instinctively spread wider, and I dipped further into the couch, succumbing to the fullness. He had me stuffed full with three fingers, biting into the cushion to stifle the ungodly sounds that begged to be let out. Every stroke and curve took me higher and higher, straight to the edge, to something sweeter than death.

“I guess I can give you what you need now,” he said, like he was doing me a favour, withdrawing completely and depriving me of my climax.

I was going to fucking cry.

Against my better judgment, I turned my head to look back at him, watching him smooth his bloody hand over his cock, wincing as he worked himself. The streaks of red had worked their way down to his forearm, and all reason suggested I should tell him to pause and take care of his injury, but the sight of him flushed and bloody only made me need him with even more urgency.

When the blunt head of his cock kissed my skin, my world teetered on the edge of collapse. He nudged forward, and I was so open and ready that I swallowed the first inch with little resistance, forgetting how to breathe.

He sank deeper, and it stung. I tried to shuffle forward on the couch to escape the pain of being split open, but he grabbed my hips and held me steady. I thought I couldn’t take any more, but I was wrong. Another inch stretched me further than his fingers had been able to reach, and I was too shocked by the searing pain to do anything other than suck in a large gulp of air. It hurt so fucking good.

“Fuck,” Jasper groaned.

When he finally bottomed out, the pain subsided, leaving only the overwhelming sense of fullness. He stayed there, his nails digging into my hips and keeping me anchored to him. I wanted to stay suspended in the moment forever, to be kept like this—filled, owned, his.

He pulled all the way out, right to the tip, and on the way, every muscle screamed in protest. A sob broke out of me, sharp with fresh pain and dizzying heat. I didn’t want him to leave me. He couldn’t.

I screamed when he drove back inside, grabbing wildly at the cushions to prevent myself from shattering like glass. My cock slapped against my stomach from the impact, and I nearly came, blotches of colour exploding behind my eyelids.

He fucked me hard and slow, each thrust bringing me back to the edge I’d been dancing on earlier. The same messy hand that’d been stroking over his own length just moments earlier left my hip and wrapped around my cock, the angle imperfect and messy as he pumped me in a jagged rhythm.

“Remember how this feels.” He emphasized with a snap of his hips. “Remember who takes care of you.”

“Jasper—Fuck—I can’t…”

All I could manage was a string of curses and broken whimpers, his name falling from my lips between each thrust like a prayer, until I thought my voice might disappear altogether.

“You can,” he encouraged. “And you will.”

I tried. I tried so fucking hard to keep it together.

But he shifted, angling even deeper, driving into me even harder.

The cord of tension at the base of my spine finally snapped, my cock pulsating with the force of my release. Jasper’s touch never faltered, only gentled, working me through each spurt of cum with sloppy strokes. His thumb brushed over my overstimulated tip, and my limbs threatened to give out from how badly I was shaking.

I whined as he released my softening length and moved to my back, his warm hand sliding up my spine, bending me further in half until I was a panting mess in the cushions. He stopped at my shoulder, gripping it and dragging me into him over and over. I thought I was going to break.

“That’s it,” he groaned. “Such a good boy.”

He buried himself to the hilt, the depth nearly knocking the wind out of me. His dick throbbed and spilled into me, flooding my insides with a thick heat that made me sob. He knelt between my legs on the couch and pressed me flush against it, and for what felt like a lifetime, neither of us moved.

I wanted to stay just like that—covered in each other’s blood, sweat, and cum.

I wanted him to be sick like me.

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Jasper