Page 26 of Mine

“Right where my heart is, right there. Gonna have the L for Landry so everyone will know that it’s you it beats for. Only for you.”

His skin sliding over mine was sleek and smooth as he lifted and plastered his mouth to mine, the kiss to taste me and suck and nibble and build heat all over again. He felt so good twining around me, and I felt the roll deep inside of me and the desire rise and slowly ripple.

“Fuck, Landry.” My voice gave out on me. “What will make it better?” I had not realized that what I thought had been nothing, talking to the girl, had filleted him open and exposed all his vulnerability and insecurity, his bleeding, oozing heart.

“Inside you,” he said simply. “Now.”

Whatever he needed.

He flung the covers away and grabbed the bottle, which was still on the bed beside my leg. His hand was on his cock, slicking it, lube running through his fingers as he coated it, brushing some over my entrance although what he had on his shaft was more than enough.

I planted my feet and lifted and he got to his knees, lined up his cock, and plunged inside of me hard and fast, burying himself deep.

The pain was jarring, instant and overwhelming because there had been no prep, nothing, and I was still recovering from my own orgasm. For a second, I thought I would throw up. I hardly ever bottomed because he loved to and told me often. But there were times when he needed to let me know that not only did he belong to me, but I belonged to him. And it was never good because he was a poor top, erratic and rushed. Angles were lost on him. As far as I knew, he couldn’t even come when he was inside me. It was instead an exercise purely in power.

“Hey,” I breathed through the pain, reaching for him, determined to try and enjoy it this time. “Stop, look at me.”

His eyes slowly lifted and I saw them swimming with fresh tears.

“It’s okay.”

“No, I’m fuckin’ hurting you for no reason.”

“No,” I lied, my voice coaxing, kind. “Do this, slow down, lemme put my legs on your shoulders, okay? Roll forward and see how deep you can go.”

His eyes never left mine as he followed directions, the angle making me gasp as the long, thick length of him grazed over my prostate.

Different, better. Just with small changes, his speed and his descent, I felt an electric shock run through me.

I moaned loudly.

“I should do that again?” He sounded so hopeful.

“Fuck, Landry,” I panted, my back bowing up off the bed. “I gotta grab my… I gotta get myself off. Just hammer me right there, okay? Don’t fuckin’ stop.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh baby could ya please…. Fuck!”

The sizzle was there, the heat, the bubbling, verging, consuming rush that I had never felt on my back before except when he was riding my cock.

“Does it feel good?” he asked, his voice guttural as he bucked into me—harder, faster, deeper with every stroke. “Because your whole body is shaking; you feel fuckin’ amazing. You’ve never felt…. Jesus, Trev, your ass is so tight and so hot. I’m gonna come! I’m gonna fuckin’ come!”

I came, spurting over my stomach, my fingers, my hand, my wrist, making everything slick and wet. And then he pulled out and added to it, splattering over my abdomen and on my chest, watching, staring, and missing nothing.

We were both heaving for breath, panting and exhausted, but the way he was looking at me, the predatory gleam, had not left.

“Am I marked enough now? Have you done enough to me or does there actually need to be blood? Tell me.”

The look in his eyes terrified me for a second before he bent and lapped at my stomach. Our seed, together, mixed, that apparently was finally enough. He slurped and sucked and swallowed, and when I dragged a finger through it and licked it clean, he shuddered. When I did it again, moving my finger toward my mouth, he leaned forward, lips parted.

I should have been freaked out, grossed out, anything, but all that mattered was bringing him back from the dark place he had gone to. So I touched my fingertip to his tongue and watched him lave at it, suck and taste, then move downward to my wrist and elbow. He licked and nibbled to my shoulder and then beneath, his face in my armpit, still licking before he moved across my chest, his mouth opening to suck my nipple, tug it, pull and finally bite down hard.

I gasped but he didn’t care, and it hurt and didn’t, everything blurring together, becoming the same.

“Your skin is driving me fuckin’ crazy.”

He was manic and he had to sleep, but he was still in a frenzy of need. And it was my fault. I knew better. When we were out, especially when we were out, he needed to be in my lap, holding my hand, close to me. I had forgotten that if we were home, had people at our place, it didn’t matter; a woman could use me like a pole and wrap herself all over me and it was fine because he knew where he was, knew I was his. But out, when he couldn’t look around and get his bearings, there was only me, and if I didn’t keep tabs… then it was on me.