Page 99 of Dirty Hit
His head thrashes against the mattress, sweat-darkened curls sticking to his forehead. “Shit… Dominic… don’t stop. I can handle it.”
Another slow press, another bar slipping past that tight ring. He clenches, then opens, and suddenly half my shaft is inside, heat strangling every shred of my self-control. I huff air out through my teeth, hips trembling.
“Fuck, you’re still so tight. Clamp down again and I’m gonna blow before we start.”
“Maybe I want that,” he pants, trying for bratty, but it comes out needy as hell.
“You’ll get it when I say you get it.” I sink the rest of the way in, balls nudging his ass, piercings settled snug inside that perfectheat. His back arches; a wrecked sound tears from his chest. I hold still, palms framing his flushed face and making him look at me. “Talk to me.”
“Green… Full,” he mumbles, eyes glassy. “Good… different. Can feel every bar.”
I draw out an inch, then slide back, keeping it shallow so he can acclimate. My cockhead drags over his prostate and he jolts, lips parting in a silent curse. I do it again, a slow grind, watching his cock leak against his stomach.
“Fuck… Dom—do it harder.”
I snarl, bending to capture his mouth while my hips snap forward, a firm thrust that punches a whimper right out of him. I swallow it, tongue sliding filthy, then pull back just enough to watch him unravel.
Every forward drive ends with metal rungs scraping that bundle of nerves; every retreat has him chasing, greedy for friction. His thighs start to shake even harder, muscles fluttering around me in slick, gripping pulses.
“Hands,” I order, and he laces his fingers behind his knees, holding himself open like the prettiest offering I’ve ever been given. Sweat glistens on his chest and the crucifix over his heart rises and falls too fast.
I thumb the head of his cock, smearing precum, then stroke him in time with my thrusts—slow up, brutal down—until his moans turn high and desperate.
“Dominic, please… gonna…”
“Not yet.” I clamp a hand at the base of his shaft, squeezing until his release stalls. He sobs, and I pound into him harder—pace punishing, bedframe rattling. Each slam lands wet and obscene, the room thick with the slap of skin and Brendon’s broken pleas.
I feel the telltale flutter, the frantic tightening around my cock again, and let go of his dick. “Now—milk my cock, Little Sin. Come for Daddy.”
He detonates—back bowing, shout ripped from his throat as stripes of cum paint his stomach. His ass clamps down around me, squeezing so tight stars burst behind my eyes. I drive twice more, wild and reckless, then I surge forward, spilling into the condom with the vicious growl of his name.
For a while, there’s only our ragged breaths and the creak of the mattress settling. I ease out carefully, peel off the condom, tie it, then toss it toward the trash. Brendon’s still shaking, eyes glazed, lips parted. I stroke his thigh, gentle now. “You good, Little Sin?”
He nods, a dazed smile tugging at his mouth. “Didn’t know it could feel like that.”
I grin and lean down to press a slow kiss to his temple. “That was just round one. Next time, we’ll see how many of those bars you can count with your walls before you pass out.”
His laugh is breathless, sated. “Fuck… you’re insane.”
“Yeah, but I’m your kind of insane now,” I murmur. “You still green, baby?”
A beat of silence, then a sleepy hum. “Greener than the fucking Grinch.”
I laugh, shake my head, and hold him tighter. Outside, rain starts to tap against the windows, soft and steady. Inside, I hold the man who cleaned himself out and stretched all alone just to be ready the day I decided to claim what was already mine.
I know I’m already beyond saving. I’m buried too deep, addicted beyond reason.
“You still got me?” he asks in a sleepy tone, and my heart feels fucking full that he’s still asking me that. I know it’s not because he needs reassurance anymore: it’s just become our thing.
“You know I do,” I answer, knowing what he’s going to ask next; I don’t even try to stop myself from smiling.
“Promise?”
I hook his pinky finger with mine, press a kiss to the top of his head, and breathe in the scent of sweat and sex and Brendon Lane. I promise myself that the monster he welcomed inside tonight will guard this fragile, filthy, perfect thing with every brutal instinct it owns.
“Pinky promise, baby.”
He hums, already half-asleep on the comedown, fingers tracing lazy patterns over the tattoos on my chest. “’Kay… Love you, Beast.”
