Page 129 of Levi

My eyes are filling up and I blink hard.

“I need you to trust me,” he says. “Can you do that?”

“Yeah. I’ve always trusted you. From the very beginning I knew you were a man of your word. You’re the only person I’ve ever been able to say that about.”

“That’s what I want to hear.” He kisses me deeply, and I feel it go all the way down. “Lie back. Tonight you let me do the taking care part.”

He starts down my body and he takes his time about it. His mouth moves down my throat, over my chest, down my stomach that won’t quit jumping under his mouth. By the time he settles between my legs I’m already trembling. My cock is hard and leaking, my balls tight.

He wraps his hand around my cock first, stroking from base to tip, thumb sliding over the wet head, and I let out a sound I couldn’t stop if I tried. He strokes me like he’s got all night to do only this, watching my face, reading it. Then he leans down and takes me in his mouth.

Fuck, his mouth is perfect. Hot and wet. He sucks me deep, tongue flat against the underside, and my balls draw up harder.

“You taste so good.” He comes up, his hand still moving on my cock, spit and precum making it easy. “I only got a taste of you that first night. This time I’m not stopping.”

He goes back down. Mouth and hand together. I forget about everything but the wet heat of him and the sight of him with my cock in his mouth. My hand finds his hair and I grip it tight while he sucks me deeper, cheeks hollowed, tongue pressing firm under the head every time he pulls up.

He comes off again and reaches for the drawer. I hear the cap of the lube bottle click open.

“I want to show you how something feels,” he says. “Only if you want it. I’m going to use my fingers, that’s all. No more than two, and only as far as you like it.” His hand keeps stroking my cock slow while he says it, keeping me right there where it’s easy. “You say the word and I stop, and we don’t go one inch farther than that tonight. Do you want me to? All you need to do is say no and we won’t.”

My heart’s going hard. But it’s him, and I said I trust him. I meant it, and God help me I want it bad. I want everything there could be with Dante. I can’t imagine there ever being a time when I told him not to touch me.

“Yeah,” I get out. “Fuck, yes. I want it.”

“If it gets to be too much, you tell me. Promise me because I will never hurt you.”

“I will.”

His hand slides under me, palm warm against the bare curve of my ass. He lifts my hips just enough to get both hands under me, then starts stroking. His palms drag over the heavy muscle of each cheek, kneading, spreading.

He doesn’t rush. He strokes and then dips into the crease where cheek meets thigh. He spreads me open just enough that the cool air of the room brushes the heat trapped between. The pads of his fingers trace my crack, up and down, never pressing in, just barely touching the sensitive skin on either side. My thighs tighten around his shoulders. A low sound rolls out of my throat before I can stop it.

“God, Dante.”

He keeps going. Both hands now, kneading, spreading, stroking the full length of my crack with the flat of his fingers while his thumbs dig into the dense muscle of my cheeks. Every pass brings him closer to where I need him, and every pass stops short.

When he drags a single fingertip right up the center and stops, my cock, already leaking against my stomach, kicks hard.

He keeps stroking, circling the rim without touching it, spreading me wider. My hips push back into his hands, chasing the contact. The muscles in my ass flex and release under his palms. I can feel how ready I am, how the simple denial is winding me tighter than anything else could.

“Dante,” I say again, almost breaking. “I need — please. Touch me. Inside. I can’t—”

Only then does he let one fingertip graze the very edge of my hole, the briefest brush, and I gasp. He pulls away immediately, leaves me open and aching, and reaches for the lube on the nightstand.

He warms the cool gel between his fingers first, rubbing them together until the slick is warmer, thinner. Then his mouth comes down over my cock, takes me deep in one long slide, and while I’m lost in that delicious heat I feel the first careful press of one fingertip against my hole. He doesn’t push yet. He just holds it there, circling slow, spreading the slick, letting me feel the pressure without the stretch.

“Easy, baby. I’ve got you.” He keeps sucking my cock in long, slow pulls, tongue dragging the underside, giving me something good to focus on while the finger waits. “You’re doing good. Just relax this muscle right here. Push out a little for me. Like you’re trying to let me in. That’s it. Feel how it opens?”

I do. The burn eases as I push, and his finger sinks deeper. First knuckle, then the second, until it’s seated all the way inside me. The fullness is intense. I can feel the slight curve of his finger, the way my body has to stretch around it. Heat spreads from that single point of contact, climbing my spine, settling low in my gut.

“There we go,” he murmurs, pulling off my cock just long enough to speak against the wet head. “You’re taking it so well. Stay with me. Keep breathing.” He starts to move it. Tiny, careful thrusts, in and out, never all the way out, just enough to teach my hole the rhythm. Every time he presses in, the stretch flares and then melts into something warmer. “Feel that? That’s me inside you. Only me. No one else gets this. Just breathe and let it feel good.”

The sensation builds in waves. At first, it’s all stretch and pressure, the strange awareness of being opened. Then the burn softens and something else takes its place. A deep, rolling ache that isn’t pain at all. When he curls the finger slightly, I feel it drag across a place inside me that makes my cock jump hard against his tongue and my hips try to lift off the bed.

He presses there again, and the pleasure is so sharp and sudden I cry out.

He moves off my cock with a loud pop. “That’s the spot that lights you up from the inside. Don’t move. You don’t have to do a single thing.”