Dirty Bad Secrets(82)

I dribbled lube all the way along his ass crack, massaging it exactly where it needed to be. I squirted a healthy amount on my hands, slicked them up in their entirety, and he watched me dubiously. “Don’t think you’re putting your whole fucking fist up there,” he snapped. “This is a trial run, I’m not even sure I’m good with this.”

He groaned as I slipped two fingers in, gripping his knees. Oh fuck how his asshole wanted me. “You’re good with this,” I said. “Don’t pretend it doesn’t feel good. I know it feels good.”

“It’s been a long fucking time.”

“Your ass is hungry for it.” I wriggled my fingers inside him. “Can you feel that?”

“Of course I can fucking feel it.”

“Push them out,” I breathed. “Push me out.”

He raised his head and his eyes were like daggers. “You’ve been spending too much fucking time with Masque.”

I twisted my fingers inside him. “Push,” I said. “Hard.”

“You’re a dirty little bitch, Faye Devere. If I crap all over your fingers, you’re cleaning it up.”

“What makes you think I’d care?”

His breathing quieted, and he was thinking, I could feel it. Weighing up the full depths of my depravity.

“This is it,” I said. “This is what I’m talking about. Forget the mind and just let it be. Stop fighting it. Stop worrying about it, stop judging everything…”

“On your fucking head be it,” he growled, and he pushed, he pushed my fingers straight out of him with a perfect fucking squelch.

I adjusted position, climbing up onto him until I could take his cock in my mouth. He couldn’t contain himself, he was too far gone. I sucked his cock until he was twitching in my mouth, too horny to care, and then I fucked him how I’d dreamed of. I loosened him up, fucking him with two fingers until his ass was happy for more, and then opened him up for a third. It was a stretch. A beautiful stretch. He groaned and squirmed, but I was already in.

“Move for me,” I hissed. “Take it.”

“Fuck,” he snarled. “Jesus, Faye, you’re really pushing it.”

But he moved, forcing his tender ass back against my fingers until they were sunk to the knuckle. I twisted and turned, opening him up wider and wider and fucking wider, and soon he was a delicious squelching mess, dripping with lube and riding my fingers like a filthy fucking manwhore.

“Just a little more,” I whispered, and my little pinky was right there.

“No fucking way!” he snapped, but he didn’t stop moving, didn’t stop taking it.

“Let it happen,” I said. “Just let me in.”

“If you put that finger in my ass you’ll be getting it right back, make of that what you fucking will, Faye, but you be damned sure you want to play those games.”

It was a no brainer. He cried out as I pushed the fourth in, spitting rage, but his body still took it.

My pussy was pulsing so hard I’d have come from the slightest contact. I trembled as I looked at the stretch of him. It was filthy fucking heaven, and I wanted in. I wanted so much more.

“Are you done?” he groaned. “Hurry the fuck up, Faye. My ass is fucking burning.”

“Does it feel bad?”

“Fucking hell!”

“Andy!” I snapped. “Does it feel bad? Be honest?” He dropped his legs, pressed his feet to the mattress enough to raise himself, and my fingers followed the movement. I twisted them again until his asshole slurped for me. “Tell me! Tell me and I’ll stop! I just want to hear you say it!”

“Fine!” he spat. “It doesn’t feel bad, Faye, is that what you want to fucking hear? Just look at the state of my fucking cock, will you?” He held it up for me to see, and he was ready to blow, his balls were tight and his dick was darker than I’d ever seen it.

“You like it,” I whispered. “I knew you would…” I smiled. “We’re good like this, Andy. We’re really good like this…”

And I lost him, right then, right there. He reached down for my wrist and pulled my fingers clean out of him. His ass made the filthiest noises as he leapt up from position, and my slick fingers were in his grip, forced around his cock.

“Make me wet,” he snarled, and there was real fucking menace in it. “And make sure you do it well.”

I rubbed his cock and my breath hitched. “What are you going to do?”

He didn’t answer, and he didn’t need to. He clean lifted me from the bed, then slammed me on my front, my face in the pillows, and his weight was on me, pinning me, his breath on my neck.