Page 76 of Deviant
“That’s it.” I keep my voice low and close to his ear. “Open up for me. Don’t fight it.”
“You don’t get to say you love me and go easy,” he says into the rock. His voice has lost all its edge. “Don’t you dare go easy on me.”
“Easy. This feel easy to you?”
“No.” His hips push back against my hand. “Rhett. Move.”
I push in slowly.
His spine bows, and a sound tears out of him that bounces off the granite and over the water, but I don’t try to muffle it. I don’t try to quiet either of us, because we are two towns from home, in the dark, and there’s nobody here but us and the river. I push in all the way, bottoming out, and stop with my hips flush against him, feeling him everywhere. I put my forehead against the back of his neck and breathe.
“Okay?” I ask.
“Don’t you dare stop. Don’t you dare ask me that and then stop.”
“I’m not stopping. I’m just getting started.” I pull back and drive in harder.
He curses into the rock, his hips pushing back to meet me, and I feel him try to take control of the pace the way he takes control of everything. So I get both hands on his hips and hold him completely still.
“My pace,” I say.
“Rhett—”
“My. Pace.” I pull back slowly and push back in slowly, feeling him shake with the effort of not moving against me. “You ran when I told you to. You’re going to take this how I give it to you. You’re fucking shaking.”
“I know.” His fingers scramble for a crack in the rock and grip hard. “Don’t stop. Don’t you fucking stop.”
I pull back until just the head is inside, then slam in harder.
“Look at you,” I rasp, voice gone low and ugly with lust. “Fuck, look at you taking my cock. Like your ass was made for it.”
“Don’t get smug,” he manages, breathless.
“Too late.” I set a brutal rhythm—deep, punishing strokes that slap skin against skin, my balls smacking his ass with every thrust. “You made me crazy all summer. Every morning in that barn, every time you got close and then pulled away. You knew exactly what you were doing to me.”
He makes a broken sound, his whole body going from fighting to surrendering. The moment he yields, something primal surges through me. I feel it in the way his hole relaxes around my cock, the way his back melts against my chest.
“There you go,” I praise, voice rough. “That’s it. Give it to me.”
I reach around and wrap my slick hand around his cock. He’s rock hard, leaking steadily, the head slick and swollen. He curses viciously as I start stroking him in time with my thrusts.
I wrap my arm across his chest and yank him upright, pulling his back flush against my front. My mouth is at his neck, teeth grazing skin as I keep thrusting deep and steady.
“Mine,” I say, quiet and fierce, the word pressed directly into his skin. “Say it.”
“Yours.” There’s no fight left. Just the truth, raw and simple.
It wrecks me.
I stroke him faster, fucking him harder, until he breaks, body seizing, hole clamping down around my cock like a vise. He comes with a hoarse shout, thick ropes of cum spilling over my fist, splattering the granite and dripping down the rock.
I follow right after, burying my face in the crook of his neck, groaning his name as I empty deep inside him, filling him until it leaks out around my cock.
We stay locked together for a long time afterward, both of us panting, my arm still banded across his chest. Eventually, I pull my softening cock out of his ass as the night air cools the sweat on our skin.
“Still mine,” I murmur against his neck.
He huffs a tired laugh. “You’re going to be insufferable now, aren’t you?”
