Frog by Mary Calmes (read along books TXT) 📗

never done it together without one, and I ain’t never done it with nobody else without one.”

“Yes, but—”

“Oh,” I said sadly, realizing that he didn’t want to. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pressure you into doing—”

“You’re such an idiot!”

Not the response I had been expecting.

“Weber Yates, turn around.”

I looked over my shoulder at him at the same time he slid two fingers deep inside of me. “Oh God,” I gasped, loving the burn, loving the stretch, the roughness of it, and the look in his eyes when he did it. He wanted me so badly.

“You say things like that and offer me your virgin asshole with nothing between us at the same time you’re making plans to leave me in two weeks. Is there anyone on the planet as stupid as you?”

I was really trying to make sense of what he was saying, and I heard the words, but dear God in heaven, his fingers were… were… his fingers….

“Are you listening to me?”

I pushed back as he turned his hand and curled his middle finger forward and dragged it across my gland. “Oh fuck,” I groaned, and it was guttural and gravelly, and I felt my body erupt in goose bumps as I flushed with a chill.

“I have a test done every six months, so I know there’s nothing wrong with me.”

“I had to have one done four months ago for a dude ranch I was working on, and it all came back negative.”

“Because you’ve always used a condom, as you said.”

“Yes, Cy, I swear,” I moaned because he’d added a third finger to my ass.

“Feel good?”

“Oh fuck yeah,” I whispered as he pushed and shoved his fingers into me, stroking deep. I was suddenly having trouble breathing.

There was more lube. I felt the chill of it and the slide, and then he reached under me for my throbbing, leaking cock. His fingers tugging, fondling, twisting, pushing gently at the slit, rubbing the pulsing head, made me buck under him.

“I wish you could see yourself trust me, open for me… Weber… this is so honest, your need right now… you’re breaking my heart.”

“Fuck me,” I begged him. “Please, God, just do it.”

“I’ve never barebacked with anyone,” he told me. “But if you swear that it’s only me, ever, without a condom, I’m going to believe you, because you’re an honorable man.”

Three years between us, three years of trust that had been built on.

“In this respect, I am,” I promised him. “It will only ever be you, I swear.”

“You’re making a vow here, Web,” he said, easing his fingers from my stretched, lube-slicked, fluttering hole.

I needed him. I craved the feeling of fullness, the line between pleasure and pain, the overwhelming desire to be taken and used.

“You don’t know what you’ve done yet,” he assured me, shoving me face down into the comforter, lifting my ass high with his other hand, grabbing my hip, the hold almost painful. “But you will, you so will.”

I fisted my hands in the material as I felt his mouth on the small of my back.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” I trembled under him.

“Only me?” he asked gently.

I nodded.

“Say it!” he snarled, and the power of his demand slammed through me.

“Just you,” I barely managed to get out, grabbing hold of my heavy, dripping cock, stroking myself.

“You trust me not to hurt you, never to hurt you.”

“Yes,” I said huskily, my voice going in and out on me.

“Remember that,” he ordered me, and I felt his hands on my cheeks, spreading me fast, roughly, even as the head of his cock pressed against my furled entrance.

The thought of what he was about to do had consumed me since the last time I had seen him. We had been so close that time. I had been on the verge of begging him for it right before I left. But he had been so angry, so possessive and frustrated, that at the end I was afraid that if I asked him he would think it was more than it was and I would regret that.

But now, he was claiming me, taking what he wanted, and I didn’t care, couldn’t be made to. It felt right, and I had no idea why.

“This will change everything,” he said, and because of that, because of his very last word, I should have said wait. I should have said no, but all that passed my lips was “please.”

Please.

And then as he pressed inside of me, “Oh God, Cyrus, please!”

But it changed so fast, and I wanted to take it back, scream at him to stop, because it started to hurt, and the pain built and burned and stung. I was full, so full, and stretched, and it was just too much. The second that I thought to yell, though, my body stopped fighting the invasion and embraced it. He pulled back a fraction, tilted his angle, and rammed in deep and hard and fast.

Until that moment, I had no idea that all my yearning, all the pressure and pain and everything else just needed Cy, inside of me, to finally be released. Knowing that I wasn’t in control, that it was all him, freed me like nothing ever had. The surrender was absolute, overwhelming, devouring bliss.

“Cy!” I gasped, lost in the undertow.

He lifted my hand to my dick, reminding me of what I should have been doing, and I took direction, squeezing and tugging, the two sensations at once all there was.

“You’re so tight, so hot. You need to come, baby, because feeling you, looking at you, I’m not…. Oh God, please, Weber.”

The last was spoken so softly, so gently, so full of tenderness but also wanting, that my body was flushed in heat.

“You’re so mine,” he chanted, and I felt him swell inside of my slick, clenching channel, felt his hand on the small of my back pushing me down, holding me still, the other clutching my hip as he thrust into me, over and over, relentless and hammering as I