Marcus leaned forward, his chest pressing against Simon’s folded knees, his hands moving from Simon’s ankles to grip the iron-hard muscle of the lad’s quads. He drove into Simon with a brutal, rhythmic thud, each lunge bottoming out against Simon’s prostate with a heavy, wet slap. The friction of Marcus’s thick, salt-slicked shaft sliding against the sensitive, raw walls of Simon’s heat was over-stimulating; Simon’s toes curled and his back arched off the silk, his heavy pectorals glistening with a fine sheen of sweat.
"Tell me you’re mine," Marcus growled, his voice a low, vibrating command that seemed to echo inside Simon’s own chest. "Tell me whose cock is stretching you out right now."
Simon’s breath was coming in ragged, broken hitches. The sensation was total—a blunt, stretching invasion that made his vision swim. He looked up at the older man, his pupils blown wide with a desperate, animalistic lust.
"I'm yours," Simon choked out, his voice cracking. "I’m yours, Marcus. Please... it’s so deep. Your cock... it’s fucking huge."
Marcus didn't slow down; he accelerated, his hips slamming into Simon’s upturned buttocks with a relentless, bruising pace. The sound of their joined flesh was loud in the opulent silence of the Claridge's suite—a rhythmic, squelching beat that drove Simon toward the brink. Marcus’s thumb reached down, pressing firmly against the base of Simon’s own rigid, leaking length, pinning it against his lower abs as he continued to hammer into him from behind.
"Beg me," Marcus hissed, his teeth grazing the shell of Simon’s ear. "Beg me to fill your ass with my load. Tell me you want every drop of it deep inside you."
Simon let out a long, low moan, his fingers digging into the expensive mattress until the silk threatened to tear. The shame he had expected to feel had been entirely incinerated by the sheer, physical reality of Marcus’s dominance.
"Please," Simon gasped, his hips beginning to thrust back against every one of Marcus’s lunges, seeking that blunt impact. "Please, Marcus... fill me up. I want it. I want your cum inside me. Fuck... fill my ass with it. All of it."
At those words, Marcus lost the last of his restraint. He grabbed Simon’s hips, his fingers bruising the tan skin, and delivered a series of rapid-fire, piston-like thrusts that buried his entire length into Simon’s quivering depths. Simon’s head thrashed from side to side, a guttural, primal shout tearing from his throat as his own orgasm erupted, jetting across his own chest and stomach in thick, white ropes.
Seconds later, Marcus stiffened, his entire frame shuddering as he delivered a final, bone-deep shove. He groaned Simon’s name, his cock pulsing violently as he emptied himself into Simon’s core. Simon felt the searing heat of the man’s climax flooding him, a heavy, internal pressure that made his internal muscles spasm in an attempt to hold onto every drop. They stayed locked together for a long minute, the only sound their synchronized, heavy panting and the ticking of a clock on the mantelpiece. Simon felt well and truly claimed, the weight of the man above him and the warmth within him marking the end of the life he had known.
Marcus withdrew slowly, the wet, sliding sound of his cock leaving Simon’s well-used hole echoing in the quiet of the Royal Suite. Simon lay there for a moment, his thick legs finally dropping heavily onto the silk mattress, his breath coming in shallow, satisfied hitches. He felt heavy, saturated, and completely spent, the cooling slick of Marcus’s large load beginning to seep out from between his flushed, muscular cheeks.
Marcus reached for a linen towel, wiping the sweat from his brow before looking down at the young jock with a possessive, calculating glint in his eyes. He trailed a finger down Simon’s abdominal muscles, which were still twitching from the intensity of the climax.
"That was quite a performance, Simon," Marcus murmured, his voice thick with post-coital satisfaction. "You took every inch of me like you were born for it. Your tight little ass was gripping me so hard I thought you’d never let me go. I suspect you’ve never been filled quite like that before, have you?"
Simon shook his head, a dazed, lazy grin spreading across his face as he felt the heavy warmth of the businessman’s cum trickling down his thigh. "Not even close. I didn't think... I didn't think I could take that much. It felt like you were hitting my heart with every shove. I’m bloody well ruined."
Marcus chuckled, leaning down to nip at Simon’s earlobe. "Good. Because I don't think I'm finished with you yet. I’m flying out to my villa in Tuscany tomorrow morning. I want you there with me for the week. There will be another fifty thousand pounds in it for you, plus a few... shall we say, 'performance bonuses' every time you let me stretch you out like that. Are you free to accompany me, or do you have somewhere else you need to be?"
Simon felt a surge of adrenaline at the mention of the money—and the prospect of more of Marcus’s brutal attention. He thought of his mounting debts, now surely a thing of the past, and the mundane life waiting for him back at the café.
"I'm overdue some leave," Simon replied, his voice regaining its strength as he sat up, ignoring the way his core throbbed from the double session. "Let me call my boss and see what he says. I'll just say apologies for the short notice, but I've had a chance of a last-minute holiday departing tomorrow, hence calling her on my non-working day. I'll see what she says."
He reached for his phone on the bedside table, his naked, muscular body a stark contrast to the opulence of the room. Marcus watched him with a smirk, clearly enjoying the sight of his new acquisition arranging his life around his whims. Simon dialled the number, his heart thumping as he waited for the café manager to pick up, already imagining the sun-drenched terrace in Tuscany and the feel of Marcus’s thick cock sliding back into him under the Italian sun.
