Page 82 of Crease Collision

Oskar gives the best blow jobs I’ve ever had. He’s relentless. Keeps his eyes on me the entire time. The darkening of his eyes gives away his lust as he drives me wild.

Fuck, I’m getting close.

My hips buck, pushing my cock into his throat. “Make me come, Ozzy.”

But he pulls off and crawls back up to kiss me. I taste myself on his tongue.

“Ozzy?” he whispers as he pulls away. “I like that, baby.”

Leaning off the edge of the bed, he grabs the lube from the floor and reclaims his place between my legs.

Cool lube, the slick press of his fingers, a brief, sharp stretch that makes me gasp. I’ve arched my back, but as soon as he finds the spot inside me, I fall back against the pillow.

Then I moan. Beg. Plead. Almost lose my mind.

It’s too good. I close my eyes, unable to deal with the light and pleasure at the same time. I’m lost in the sensation, certain I’m going to come before he ever gets inside me, when he withdraws his fingers.

“You are too close, baby. No coming yet.”

“I need to come. Please.”

“Ready to have me inside you?”

I make a pitiful sound.

Before I can think, the blunt head of his cock is pressing against my hole. He braces a forearm beside my head as his eyes search mine.

“Kai?”

I answer by wrapping my legs around his waist. He pushes, and I use my legs to pull him in. As he sinks inside, his rough groan makes my balls ache. The slow stretch is exquisite. God, how I’ve needed this—the pinch, the invasion, being pinned so I can’t move.

He starts slowly but quickly builds to a steady, powerful rhythm. Too much, too soon.

“Easy,” I say.

But he knows I don’t want that. “Quiet, baby. I’m fucking you the way you like.”

“Yeah but⁠—”

“No coming until I say you can.”

There’s already a fire raging in my gut. He kisses me, using his weight to hold me still.

It’s overwhelming. I can hardly move while he sets the pace, decides the angle. All I have to do is feel. This is what I need every single day, Ozzy in control. I grip his shoulders and try to meet his thrusts with my own.

I cry out, clawing at his back and begging for more.

He slams into me harder. Sweat, already beaded on his forehead, drips onto me. The sheets are damp around us. It’s hard work getting fucked by Ozzy.

Tension coils at the base of my spine, and the pressure builds until I think I’m about to explode.

“Look at me,” he commands, his voice tight. The words come out staccato, keeping rhythm with the fucking. “Do. Not. Come. Yet.”

Fuck. Holding off is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but the intensity of his gaze is thrilling. He’s right here with me, lost in the same storm.

He reaches between us and wraps his hand around my cock. I moan louder as he strokes me in time with his thrusts.

“Shit, Ozzy. Close.”