Obsessed With My Roommate's Brother(4)

I took him deeper, cheeks hollowed, eyes watering as I tried to fit more of him than my mouth could comfortably hold. Saliva slipped down my chin. Every time I pulled back to breathe, he stayed hard and heavy against my tongue, the taste of him and the faint salt of the woman he’d just been inside mixing together. My jaw ached. I didn’t stop.

Maddox’s hand eventually settled in my hair—not forcing, just holding. A low sound left his chest when I finally managed to take him far enough that my nose brushed the base of his stomach.

“Enough.”

The word was rough. He pulled me off him with careful pressure and hauled me up like I weighed nothing. The next thing I knew my back hit the mattress. He followed, bracing himself over me, the thick length of him resting heavy against my thigh.

I stared down between us. The sight of him made my stomach flip.

“Is this the part where you put it inside me?” My voice came out smaller than I wanted. “It’s… terrifyingly big.”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead he lowered his head and bit the side of my neck—gentle, just enough pressure to make me shiver. His mouth stayed there as he spoke against my skin.

“This is the part where we do foreplay.” A pause. “Has a man ever gone down on you before?”

“No.”

He lifted his head just enough to look at me. Something darker and quieter moved behind his eyes.

“That’s a shame. Considering how beautiful and perfect this body is.” His hand slid down my stomach, slow. “I’m going to be your first. And most likely your last. After I put my mouth on you, your body won’t want anyone else. It’ll only recognize me. Only warm for me.”

The first finger pushed inside me without warning. I gasped. He groaned at the same time, the sound low and almost pained.

“Fuck. You’re soaked.”

A second finger joined the first. He worked them in and out slowly, curling, stretching, while his mouth returned to my neck, my jaw, the shell of my ear. The words he whispered were filthy and oddly comforting at the same time—how good I felt, how tight, how he was going to take care of me even while he ruined me. Somehow the contradiction made me feel safer than I had any right to feel.

Then his fingers were gone and his mouth replaced them.

I cried out.

He didn’t ease me into it. He licked and sucked and pushed his tongue inside me like he was starving, one forearm locked across my hips to keep me from twisting away. The pleasure was sharp and overwhelming. My hands flew to the sheets, fists tightening until my knuckles ached. Every time I thought I couldn’t take more he found a new angle, a new pressure, until the room narrowed to the wet heat of his mouth and the steady, relentless way he fucked me with it.

If this was only his mouth, I couldn’t imagine what the rest would feel like.

The orgasm hit hard. My back arched, a broken sound tearing out of my throat as I came against his tongue. He stayed with me through every pulse, slowing only when my thighs started shaking too hard to stay open.

When he finally lifted his head, his mouth was wet and his eyes were almost black.

“I’m going to fuck you now.” His voice was quiet, almost careful. “If it gets too much, you tell me and I stop. Understand?”

I nodded, still trying to catch my breath.

He reached down, lined himself up, and pushed in.

The stretch burned. My nails dug into the sheets as a sharp cry left me. He didn’t thrust right away. He stayed still, forehead pressed to mine, breathing hard, giving me time even while every muscle in his body looked ready to snap.

“Breathe,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

I forced air into my lungs. Slowly the worst of the sting eased into a heavy, full pressure. He began to move—shallow at first, then deeper, then harder. The pain didn’t disappear, but it changed, folding into something hotter and more urgent. My moans turned louder, less controlled. His name slipped out of my mouth without permission.

He fucked me deeper, hips snapping, the wet sound of us filling the room. My nails raked the sheets. Every thrust dragged another broken sound from my throat until the pleasure finally overtook everything else. The second climax tore through me harder than the first. I clenched around him, crying out, and he stayed buried inside me the entire time, riding out every pulse until my body finally went limp.

Only then did he pull out.

I heard water running in the bathroom. A moment later he returned with a warm washcloth. He cleaned the blood and the mess from my thighs with surprising gentleness, then set the cloth aside and leaned down to press a kiss to my forehead.

His voice was quiet when he spoke, but there was no softness in the words themselves.

“You’re mine now. Mine to corrupt. Mine to fuck. Mine to ruin. You’re mine." A short pause. “I’ll be gone by tomorrow — my apartment’s fixed. But you know where I live. If you ever need release… I don’t care what time it is. Come to me. I’ll give it to you.”