by Peter Styles
I did as he asked, my eyes fluttering as I took him in slowly, felt his fingers flex at the sensation of being inside me. “Baby,” I said, “Oliver….”
He pistoned up into me, unexpected. We both let out noises, long groans that were sure to be a dead giveaway for whoever was downstairs and unfortunate enough to maybe be listening. I slid down over him slowly, taking my time, panting slightly as I felt him stretch me, press deeper into me, the burn like a fiery pleasure, cathartic, knowing with a little more force, I could have him hammering against my prostate—
But that was up to me.
We stayed still a moment while I adjusted. When the first bit of ache from the stretching passed I started moving, slow at first, until I grew bored of that. Not that Oliver cared one way or the other, his head tipped back but his eyes on me—always on me—his gaze burning me up from the outside. My careful up and down grew into purposeful bouncing, each downward thrust making my legs twitch, the jolts of pleasure almost too much. I thought he might touch me, might jack up into me like always, but instead he was watching: watching as I used him, as I fucked onto him myself, caught up in my own hazy pleasure.
Knowing he was watching made it headier somehow. I reached to take my cock, give a little tease, but—
“No,” he said, softly brushing my hand away. “Not yet.”
I nodded, swallowing as I fucked myself down onto him harder, seeking that burst of pleasure. It came at last, and when I least expected it. He had been waiting for me to let down my guard, to not anticipate when he would grip my hips hard and thrust upwards to meet my bouncing.
Maybe it was planned, or maybe he just couldn’t hold back anymore. Either way, I shouted, mouth falling open around a breathy moan as his cock drove into my prostate hard and drove on past it, sweat breaking out on my forehead and hands forming fists on his chest.
When Oliver fucked into me, he didn’t hold back. Not anymore. His thrusts were rapid-fire, shaking my body. He sat himself up, our lips colliding violently as I ground down against him, taking him deeper, deeper—he gave a light smack to my ass before squeezing it, and I gasped against his mouth, taking it as a sign to go harder. We could both take it.
I was close, but so was he. I could hear it in his breathing, rasping and peppered with short moans, which only drove me crazier, thank you very much. I looked at him, flushed and damp, and wondered if he knew the effect he had on me.
“Oliver, I—I… fuck, I—” I inhaled, trying to warn him, a mix of I love you and I’m coming. His hands worked dutifully over my weeping cock, and that was the tipping point, throwing me off the cliff and into the pit, white-hot and tingling, as I came with a crackling cry, clutching his face and keeping it against mine so we could breathe together.
His breathing was still wild as I clenched around him, letting him piston into me as quick or as hard as he needed, mumbling things I wasn’t paying attention to along the lines of I love you and You’re perfect and So good, baby, no one fucks me like you….
Oliver came to the sound of my voice, and when he did, I kissed him to trap and swallow the erotic noises he made, locking them up tight in my own chest so I’d always have them.
We fell against each other, spent, chest to chest on our bed and he held me close as he cooled and breathed. The room smelled like sex and the two of us.
I bit my lip as he took my left hand and examined the ring, reminding himself of what would be coming for us.
A wedding, I thought. We’re getting married. Holy shit.
“So you’re here for the whole ride?” I asked quietly, grinning as his face turned and we looked each other in the eye. There was a shared light between us; a glint. Happiness.
Oliver nodded. “I am if you are.”
“Please,” I told him. “I was born to ride, turns out.”
Oliver scoffed, a good-natured laugh.
“Trust me,” he hummed, wrapping his arms around me again, “I know.”
Get ready for Book 9 in the Worth It Series, Worth Remembering.
Coming April 21st!
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WORTH IT: BOOK 8
Peter Styles
© 2019
Disclaimer
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are all fictitious for the reader’s pleasure. Any similarities to real people, places, events, living or dead are all coincidental.
This book contains sexually explicit content that is intended for ADULTS ONLY (+18)