The Muse's Undoing

I slide it on like it’s not a big deal, not a symbol of a habit I know is a problem. Not a remembrance of those few weeks after Valentine when I whored myself out to anyone who would fuck me in a luxury hotel room across the street.

I grab him by the ankles and push his legs apart so I can get between them. “How’re you doing?” I ask as I kneel between his thighs. “Hanging in there?”

He gives me an annoyed look. “Yes, thank you for asking.”

I grin. “Well, you look good.”

“So do you,” he says in that low voice that makes my balls fill.

I run my hands up his legs, rubbing more firmly when I get to his thighs. “Comfortable?” I ask.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Because once I’m inside you, I won’t be in any rush to get out.”

His eyes flutter closed. “God…”

Self-conscious, I say, “What?”

“Nothing, you’re just…” He trails off without finishing.

“I mean, I can probably make it qui?—”

“No,” he says quickly. “Use me. Torture me. Take as long as you want. But let me turn over. We’ll save legs up for when it’s gonna be fast.”

I help him move his leg over me. We get him settled on his chest with a pillow under his head and one beneath his hips. I hope for thousands more nights like this. When I can take him fast or slow. Legs up or bent over his messy dining table. Fuck, the promise of falling asleep in each other’s arms would be enough, but I have to admit, I like this arrangement better.

I take a few moments to appreciate his ass with my hands, shamelessly groping it and spreading the cheeks to watch his pretty hole wink up at me. I bend down for a quick taste, and he shudders.

“Fuck…that feels so fucking good.”

“More?” I ask.

“Whatever you want,” he says.

“I wanna be inside you.”

“Then get inside me.”

“Mm…” I love the sound of his pouty demand. Lifting my head, I squirt lube on my hand and directly into his hole, using two fingers to get him soft and wet for me, pleased to see him humping the pillow in time with my thrusts. “So fucking sexy,” I murmur.

He hums, hiding his face behind his arm so I can’t see his expression.

“Pretty little princess in all her pillows…” I grin.

“Fuck you.”

“But I like it. This tight, wet pussy dripping just for me. You don’t even have to lift a finger to make me so fucking hard.”

“Matty, Jesus.”

His ass arches up, and I remove my fingers, slotting my cockhead against his hole. “So tight,” I say as I nudge him a few times. “How many times do you want to come before I do this time, princess?”

I can tell he’s already half-wrecked when he says in a rush, “As many as you want.”

“You’ll come when I tell you to?”

“I might.”