Page 92 of The Storm

I want to be stretched.

Filled.

I need to have something,anything, release the tightness that’s pulling my body taut as a wire.

With his tongue still pressed against my opening, he pushes a finger inside. I push back against it. Try to force it deeper. He slides his palm over my lower back. His finger curls inside me.

I don’t have time to prepare myself for the sudden burst of pleasure that races through my body and makes my limbs feel liquid.

“Fuuuuck!” I rasp.

His lips, now pressed against the curve of my ass curl into a smile.

He rubs that spot again, and I’m panting like I’ve been running a mile at full speed.

He does it again. I moan.

It’s like he’s forcing me closer to the edge. Like he’s pushing me, and my body isn’t mine anymore. It’s his to manipulate and torment andtake.

In some distant part of my brain, I faintly register a click. When his finger pushes inside me again, it’s wet, cool, and slippery.

He goes deeper this time.

It still isn’t enough.

He pulls it out and slides back in, slow and measured, but it’s still not enough.

And the desperation starts to grow. It starts to eat me alive.

“More,” I say.

His lips curve against the base of my spine this time.

He adds a second finger. It’s better. The scrape of skin on the tight muscle. More pleasure coils in my belly.

“More.” This time it’s a demand, not a plea.

He pushes his fingers deeper and leans over my back. “Now imagine it’s my cock inside you and not just my fingers.”

I glance over my shoulder. My nose bumps into his.

“I’m starting to think you’re all talk,” I say.

He smiles, and then he’s kissing me.

He pulls away and grabs a condom from the bedside table. With every second he’s gone, I start to feel a tiny bit more tense. A bit more nervous again. The sound of the condom wrapper being torn open and the squirt of lube doesn’t really help.

His fingers move to my hole again a second later, spreading the lube, making me so thoroughly slick that I’m starting to suspect that I’ll slide off the bed if he adds any more. He thrusts his fingers back inside me, and I groan at the stretch.

“On your knees,” he says. “Grab the headboard.”

My body feels like jelly, but I do as he says. His arm wraps around my waist, his fingers still in my ass, and a soft breath escapes his lips.

“You have no idea how fucking hot you look like this,” he says.

I turn my head, and my dick jerks at the sight of him kneeling behind me.

Then he’s moving closer. His fingers are now gone, leaving me empty and aching. A bit hesitant. A lot needy.