Love in Xxchange: Rory's Last Chance by Bailey Bradford (poetry books to read txt) 📗

heard dual strangled gasps as his cock breached Chance’s body, then his cock head was in. A surge of his hips had his dick forging through the searing tunnel, each rippling move of that gripping flesh branding him, sucking him in deeper and deeper until his hips rested against sweat-slicked skin.

Rory held himself motionless until Chance’s breath turned from harsh pants to softer ones. He slowly began pulling back, watching as his cock slid almost entirely out, feeling RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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each pulsation of protest against his sensitive skin.

It felt so good, so much more than anything Rory had ever expected, as though all the nerve endings in his body were centred on his cock. The sensations as he drove his hips forward again rushed through him in a ferocious wave of passion so intense it stole his breath and had spots dancing before his eyes. He buried himself fully and started to pull back again when a needy whimper slipped from Chance.

“Oh, shit, I can’t… I have to move.”

“Yessss…” Chance rotated his hips as he had when Rory’s fingers were stretching him.

Rory yelled, the sound pulled from his chest and belly at the exquisite swell of pleasure that surged from his cock to his balls then spread through his body like a wildfire. Christ, he knew now that fucking Chance was going to kill him—nothing that felt like this could be survived.

Rory flexed his ass and thrust his cock in fast and hard, pumping into Chance in an increasingly bruising manner—it was a certainty that his hips and Chance’s ass would be sporting some colourful proof of their mating tomorrow if not sooner.

“Rory, baby.” Chance’s voice was thready with need. “Touch me, please. I ache.”

Rory gripped Chance’s cock, feeling the copious amount of pre cum on the mushroomed head. He began fucking into Chance erratically, driven by his body’s needs as he worked the fat dick in his hand.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, Chance! Never…” Rory’s brain shot white-hot as Chance’s inner muscles clamped down hard, trapping Rory’s cock, keeping it buried to the hilt in that searing, clenching tunnel. “Never…not like this—“

Liquid heat spilled onto Rory’s hand as Chance’s dick jerked, filling the air with the scent of cum. Waves of spasms shook the man’s body as he groaned low and long, cock still pulsing, emptying with spurts of cream.

Rory ground against Chance’s ass then rammed his hips forward trying to get deeper, farther as tingling pleasure spread from his tight balls to his cock and back up to the base of his spine. He couldn’t yell, couldn’t breathe. His climax surged and his cock spilled jet after jet of spunk into Chance’s ass as those silky smooth muscles clenched again and again.

Rory did the only thing he could do and held on tight to Chance as his cock pulsed and emptied into his lover’s body. Behind his lids little black dots grew bigger, threatening to do the very thing he feared and take him to his knees. Rory released Chance’s dick and grabbed RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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onto his other arm, clutching his forearms and leaning heavily against Chance. He had to lock his knees to keep them from hitting the floor.

Eventually he became aware of the fact that he was squashing Chance against the door.

Chance’s shallow breaths told him the man was being squeezed and squished uncomfortably even though he never said a word. Then again, Rory panicked, maybe he couldn’t.

Rory loosened his hold and stepped back from Chance so fast they both stumbled backwards, arms flailing for balance, tangling themselves in shoved-down jeans and elbows and boots. Rory managed, barely, to grab Chance and toss him onto the bed then Rory was landing beside him, feeling ten kinds of a fool for forgetting about the fact neither of them had shucked all their clothes.

Rory groaned and flopped onto his back, arm slung over his eyes, certain Chance would think him a horny kid who couldn’t hold it together long enough to get their clothes off. Christ, he’d gone after the man like a starving person would tuck into a steak.

No control, no finesse, just hormones and need. Fuck. He felt the bed shift right before he heard the thud of one boot then the other hitting the floor. Rory started when he felt hands on his chest unbuttoning his shirt. He lifted his arm just enough to peek out from under it.

Chance smiled in a lazy, sated way that had Rory’s heart pinching. As he watched his lover, he saw there was no anger or disgust on Chance’s face. No, the man looked pleased and a little smug judging by the wink he gave Rory.

“Think you can get up and get naked, baby? I could use a shower and a certain someone to rub my back.”

Chance’s eyes were glinting with a teasing light that broke through the knot of fear and insecurity Rory had felt engulfing him. This man, Rory knew, had an almost frightening impact on his emotions—but he wouldn’t back away for the world. Sitting up, he smiled at Chance, reaching out to stroke a finger over the older man’s tanned, stubbled cheek.

“Whatever you say, boss. Whatever you say.”

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Chapter Twelve

Chance started the shower, giving Rory the time to get his clothes off. He was still feeling a bit boneless after the way Rory had fucked him—Christ, he couldn’t remember ever having such an erotic experience before. Rory had taken charge and Chance had let him, willing and eager to take a submissive role to Rory’s demanding alpha outburst. Chance understood it—the younger man had needed to be in control after talking about what had happened to him, and Chance had certainly enjoyed the hell out of it. He’d held himself so tightly in check for so many years that letting go of all control had been a near-orgasmic experience in itself—and holy shit, Rory could fuck like a man possessed. Just thinking about it had Chance’s knees feeling weak