“I’m also enjoying the view. You should see how loose and gaping you are.” His groan rattles in his chest. “I’ve been dying to fuck you since I saw you in that coffee shop.”

I stroke myself slowly, letting his words settle in deep. “Now’s your chance, then.”

“On your knees.”

I push up onto them, still debating whether to get onto all fours, when his hands slide up my thighs to my ass. He grips me tight, spreads me open, and then licks a long wet strip from my balls to my tailbone.

My back arches involuntarily.

“Beg me,” he commands.

My balls throb, and I don’t bother to think, just word. “Please. I need it. I need you. I’m so fucking empty.” My ass clamps down around nothing. “Please fuck me.”

The head of his cock presses against me, and before he pushes inside, I’m already frustrated by the thin rubber between us. It doesn’t feel the same as yesterday. Heated flesh against flesh. Feeling the sticky need of his precum marking up my opening.

Then he breaches my hole, and every frustration leaves me.

My muscles instinctively want to lock up, but I force myself to relax. To take him. To get everything I never knew I wanted.

St. Clare’s cock feels way bigger than I expected, but he goes slow and seems to know exactly when to push and when to wait, and I have no clue about anything going on other than the fact I’m so deliciously, filthily stretched open.

His deep, ragged breathing fills my ears. “You feel so good.”

That’s the highest praise he could give me. My gut is flush with tingly sparks from my balls to my chest, and when St. Clare releases a long exhale, pressing tight against my ass, I melt. I’m jelly. Completely filled, brain offline, lust and happiness coursing through me.

When he doesn’t move, I do it for him. Gentle strokes, on and off, until the burning stretch relieves and the delicious slide takes over. His cock is brushing that place in my ass that makes my balls tighten again, and I don’t want it to stop.

I’d ride him all day if I could.

I plant my forearm on the bed, ignoring the pain in my shoulder as I jerk off. The faster I move, the more it signals to St. Clare what I can handle, and it’s a relief when he takes over. When he plants his hands on my hips and fucks me confidently, overwhelming every little nerve in my ass to the point that I’m ready to come.