Sticky by Julia Swift

has three buried knuckle deep inside of me, swirling them in circles against my inner walls, coating them in my juices.
    When he pulls his fingers out of me, I groan faintly in protest. He wraps his hand around his cock instead, coating himself in my wet come, before he lets go of my toes and uses his grip on my ankle to lift me higher, raising my ass off the bed.
    My eyes widen.
    His fingers dip inside me for more, but this time when he pulls them out of my pussy again, he trails them down to my ass, parting my cheeks, exposing my tiny, puckered hole to the world. His soaked index finger prods at my ass, and I gasp sharply.
    He looks at me then, his eyes seeming to clear a little, as if he’s waking up from a trance. He tilts his head to one side, watching me, waiting.
    He’s waiting for permission, I realize. I bite my lip, debating for a moment. Do I want to do this?
    It’s Gage. He’s only ever made me feel incredible so far. I trust him. So I nod.
    That finger presses harder at my ass, until, with a faint spike of pain, the tip glides into me. It burns, at first. I take deep breaths, fighting the urge to clench tight around him, and try to make myself relax.
    Once I figure out to watch his face, the light in his eyes as he grazes them across my body, loving every inch of me, relaxing becomes easier. His finger inches deeper and deeper into me, and suddenly there’s a widening, stretching sensation, and the pain doesn’t disappear exactly, but it floods over the top of my senses into pleasure. I moan faintly, and twist my hands into the sheets to either side of me.
    He slides another finger in to meet the first, and there is more pain, more tearing at the edges of me, but also a sense of being deeply full, and a curl of pleasure as his fingers hit a hot spot deep in my ass.
    “Do you have any lube?” he whispers, and my heart starts to pound all over again in a mix of fear and excitement.
    I shake my head, half disappointed and half relieved that I didn’t plan that far ahead. But he doesn’t seem disappointed or even deterred.
    “Oil?”
    I bite my lip, thinking. “I’ve got coconut oil in the kitchen, but . . . ”
    “Get it.”
    I swallow hard and have to fight back a soft yelp of protest when he pulls his fingers out of me. But I do as he says, sliding off the bed and padding across my dark apartment into the kitchen, rooting through the cabinets until I find the mason jar full of the oil I use to cook.
    My apartment looks different tonight. Both smaller and stranger, as if I’ve stumbled into someone else’s rooms, and they’re so much safer and more comfortable than mine.
    Then I cross the threshold back into my bedroom, and it’s nerves all over again as I pass the jar to him.
    He swings me onto the sheets again, laying me down beneath him, and kisses me slowly, deeply, even as he unscrews the jar and scoops out a handful, warming the solid chunks of oil in his hot palms for a moment before he coats himself in one handful, and presses the other one between my cheeks. His fingers enter me again, easier this time, and there’s a faint tingling, warm sensation as the oil coats me too.
    Without warning, he grabs both of my ankles now, throwing them over his shoulders so I’m helpless on the bed before him. His hands spread my ass cheeks, and his hard cock presses right up against my entrance.
    The pain flares again, even hotter and brighter this time. I gasp and dig my fists into the sheets, gritting my teeth as his tip pushes inside my ass. The burn echoes along my nerves, all the way up to my head and out to my limbs, until the tips of my fingers and toes itch with it, as he starts to thrust his way deeper. Small, pushing thrusts at first, inching himself slowly deeper, deeper.
    I’ve never felt so full, so stuffed to the brim. He’s so big, and my ass is so tight, for a moment I panic that he won’t fit, but he keeps going, keeps thrusting, and before long there’s a small releasing