Page 72 of Bone Deep
“Oh, fuuuuck,” I moan, hips rocking back into him. The things he’s doing with his mouth are probably illegal in forty-seven countries. Thank God I’m still in my jockstrap or I’d be leaking all over this stupidly expensive chair.
He resurfaces for air, voice muffled but loaded with hunger. “Damn, Ryan, I could eat this ass all. Day. Long.”
My head lifts, lips parted, “Oh God.”
His hand sneaks through my thighs, gripping my cock through the soaked pouch. “Mmm. Big boy.”
I pant, half-crazed. He shifts my jock aside, releasing my cock, pulling it back so it lines up with my hole. Then—fuck—he licks a long stripe from my tip, up to my balls, over my taint, and circles back up to my hole. He does it again. And again.
I whimper, writhing, “Spence, please.”
He just smirks and dives right back in, tongue spearing me open, feasting like it’s his last meal. He doesn’t stop—ten minutes, maybe more, devouring my ass, licking my balls, sucking my cock, worshipping every inch. I can barely think, mind wiped clean but for one persistent thought:
Jesus, this man knows how to treat a bottom.
Then he stands, using my ass for leverage, and I mourn the loss of his mouth…until the blunt head of his cock slaps against my spit-slicked hole, making me yelp.
“Where’s the lube?” he growls.
I nod to the dresser under the TV. “Right there.” He strides over, grabs the bottle, snags a magnum condom from the pile.
Hey, I was prepared for every kind of dick.
He holds it up, eyebrow cocked. “Need this?”
I shake my head, bracing myself on trembling arms, barely able to form words. “NFL. Testing. On PrEP.”
He tosses the condom aside, eyes never leaving mine. “Same. PrEP and tested regularly.”
I hum, voice thick with want. “Good. Because I want to walk out of here with you load leaking down my legs.”
Spence’s pupils blow wide, the last bit of control slipping. He grabs my hip, voice rough. “Ryan, if we go bare—as long as whatever this is lasts—you don’t touch anyone else. Got it?”
I smirk over my shoulder. “Spence?”
He grunts, “Yeah?”
I grin. “Understood. But can you please get that fat dick in me, like, immediately? I’m dying over here.”
I see Spence pop the cap on the lube and I can’t help but let out a needy, “Yesss.” I turn my head back and drape it over my arms, breath coming fast.
Cool slickness, then two of his fingers push inside me—no hesitation, just stretching me wide, scissoring me open until I’m twitching. A third finger joins the party, plunging deep. He knows exactly where to go, finds my spot, and starts pressing it over and over like he’s trying to rack up a high score.
My head flies back and I whine, “C’mon, Spence. Give me that broloney pony already.”
He pulls his fingers out, wipes the excess lube on my ass and mutters, “Don’t ever call it that again or you’re not getting it.”
I huff, all attitude. “Fine.”
Behind me, a metallic jingle—his belt. My heart kicks up in panic. I twist to look and blurt, “I said, fine, Spence. Please, for the love of Gaga, don’t leave.”
He just shakes his head, his voice suddenly very serious. “What’s your word?”
I blink, thrown. “Word?”
“Your safe word, Ryan. I’m not a full dominant or anything, but I can be a rough fuck. You need to be able to tell me when to stop.”
“Fuck,” I release a full-body shiver. “Could you be more perfect?” I pause, think, then, “How about Grandma?”
