Page 97 of King of Hollywood
Probably.
Her favorite phrase in the world was probably “no glove, no love.” I swear she’d get it as a bumper sticker if she could. Hey! Christmas idea. Wahoo.
But…what Winnie didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, would it?
And the idea of…oh fuck. The idea of spilling inside Felix—of marking him as mine from the inside out was just…yes.
Fuck yes.
“No condom,” I said simply, more than a little satisfied when Felix immediately tossed it away. He straddled my hips and my brain short-circuited. There were no thoughts in my head at all as his lithe body poised above my lap, ass hovering enticingly over my hard cock.
All I could think about was pushing into him.
About how tight he’d be.
About the face he’d make if I pushed too fast, too soon. I wanted to make him cry as much as I wanted him to scratch me up. Would this be the time he killed me? If he was following his usual mode of operation?
I hoped not.
But the thought that Felix might try to end me after I finished only served to make me more aroused. Violence in any form had always fascinated me. It should come as no surprise that that extended toward sex.
“I might be a little rusty,” Felix murmured, body taunting mine. “So bear with me.”
My dick flexed, pointing up toward him, angry, ruddy red. I didn’t think I’d ever been harder in all my life.
“Look at you,” Felix purred, positioning himself over my dick, the oddly lukewarm clutch of his ass, fluttering at my crown. “Just a big, feral beast, aren’t you, Marshall?”
I hissed out a breath, too focused on how close I was to finally pushing inside him to care what he was calling me. I couldn’t stop leaking. I could feel the sticky smear of lube and precum slipping down my cock as Felix pressed down a little harder and—oh.
Oh.
Oh.
Bliss.
Sweet, heavenly bliss.
His body was so tight—and wet—and surprisingly warm on the inside. My eyes rolled back as Felix’s hands laid on my chest for support. He used his hold on my pecs for leverage, gradually sinking further, further, further—
“Oh fuck.” I sobbed, and then—snapped my hips up.
Felix’s face scrunched up like I’d hoped it would. He made a soft, startled sound, his dark brow knit—but I was too focused on the tight, wet, warm, tight, wet of his body to think about anything other than pulling out, and pushing back in again.
And again.
And again.
“Marshall—” Felix moaned, rocking his hips to meet my thrusts. There was no build up. No slow, long progression. No teasing. It was feral. Animalistic. Primal in the way only killing had ever been for me. There were no thoughts in my head at all, other than fuck, fuck, fuck—a command to invade Felix’s body, to leave my mark inside him. To fuck him so hard and good he couldn’t walk for weeks.
I grabbed onto his hips, nails biting into the skin—but not piercing—as I planted my feet into the mattress and rocked up with fervor. Felix swiveled his hips to meet each of my thrusts, a steady slap, slap, slap sound echoing through the room as I snapped into him—delighted every time I made him gasp.
“Fuck, you are so big—” he hissed out. It wasn’t the first time he’d called me that. And it wasn’t like I could control how long or thick my cock was. But still…pride filled my body. Virile and irrational—I preened, plowing into him harder, yanking him down into each of my thrusts as I chased my pleasure.
I should’ve reached for his dick.
I knew that.
But I honestly couldn’t think about anything but pushing inside him—and Felix, lovely, wonderful Felix, didn’t seem to mind. He stared at me like the fact I’d lost control was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. Stared at my heaving chest, my hard nipples, the way my neck strained and flexed. Stared at how big my hands looked when they clutched his hips. Stared into my eyes—long and hard enough I got lost inside his gaze.