He's a master at that, too; he's passionate about it—nothing half-assed or unemotional. He's also generous with his touches and murmurs of both affection and dirty words.
"S o good," I sigh, consumed by a new kind of fire. The burn isn't as dull as it usually is, but it's not a bad thing. It makes everything more intense instead, and I move my hands up his thick biceps to feel more of him.
"Understatement." He grunts and thrusts a bit harder. I feel his long, thick cock sliding in and out of me, less resistance with each pass. " And now that I know what it's like to be inside you—" he nips at my upper lip and slips a hand between us, wrapping his fingers firmly around my dick "—I won't let you push me away." I moan as he strokes me at the same pace he's moving inside me. "I get that not everything is fixed by a fuck." A dark chuckle slips through his lips, and I shudder and reach up to claim his mouth with mine. He speaks into the messy kiss. "But I won't allow you to sink into that little hole where you're disgusted with yourself." He has an eyebrow arched when I meet his gaze. "You think I don’t know how your mind works?"
I swallow thickly, not knowing what to say.
"You're mine now, Brayden." His voice is low, full of both warning and promise. "Mine and Evangeline's. And why the fuck would we allow our boy to hate himself?"
"Mark," I mumble, shaking my head. I avert my eyes. "It's not—"
"—that simple? I know," he finishes. "But we've got time and patience to make you understand." He kisses me again, mingling our tongues together languidly, and speeds up after having slowed down just a little. He also tightens his grip around my cock, causing me to whimper and arch into him. "Just keep one thing in mind. We want you for who you are—sure as hell not for who your family wants you to be."
I chuckle shakily and tilt my head toward his neck. "Don’t ruin the mood."
"You little bastard." He huffs a quiet laugh and drives into me with force, and I'm blinded by a mixture of incredible pleasure and pain. "Better?"
"Yeah—oh, fuck." I gasp as a series of tremors run down my spine, each seemingly head ing in a different direction. My balls start to tingle, my skin becomes damp with a new flush, my muscles strain, my ass tenses, and several other sensations struggle to pull me under. "More," I plead. "Fuck me harder. I need you."
He doesn’t respond verbally, but he does pull out of me, causing me to wince, and he twirls a finger. A silent command for me to get on all fours. Oh, hell yeah . Scrambling into position, I push out my ass much like Rory did last night. I do it without shame, and then I drop to my elbows, ready for him.
This time there's no wait—no going slow. Gripping my hips, he pushes into me with a hard thrust. "Fuck," he growls, setting a fast pace. I cry out, the sound muffled as I bury my face in my pillow, and I take his cock the way I want it. He fucks me forcefully—plain and simple—and I'm already addicted. "So damn amazing," he groans. "My dirty little fuck-toy."
"Oh, Jesus." I gulp and bite down on the pillow. A brand-new type of arousal flares up inside me, and it's the result of his previous words. My dirty little fuck-toy . That line goes on repeat in my head as he hammers into me, leaving me to hang on for dear life.
"This is what you want, isn't it?" he demands, slightly out of breath. All I can muster is a weak nod as I fight my orgasm. "You want me to use you. You want to rely on me, be dependent on me, count on me to take care of you like the little boy you are."
I squeeze my eyes shut, exposed and raw. I do want all that—when I'm his sub, and that’s who I want to be right this moment. I want to curl into him, give everything away, and trust him to catch me or whatever.
It's so easy when he's Master.
I'm not saying I want it 24/7—far from it—but I do want it more than over the weekends and the few weekdays we find time.
"I'll make it happen." He suddenly