I suck and swallow his precum like it’s the best hors d’oeuvres on the menu, and Dashiell moans like he’s already there. He grabs the scruff of my neck roughly and fucks my face in abandon. I want it so badly. I can’t seem to take enough of him.
“I want you to suck up all my cum, baby. Fill your belly. Drink it all,” he spits.
My center is so hot and swollen that I might come from how my clit grinding on my heel folded under me as I suck his manhood.
Dashiell pinches my nipples again so savagely that I fear they’ll bleed, and desire swims through me like a dangerous toxin overtaking all of my senses. I have one hand on his shaft, and I reach the other between my legs, sliding it inside my saturated thong.
“Juicy?” Dashiell asks.
I nod on his fat dick.
“Creamy?”
I nod again.
“Stick all your fingers in your sweet pussy and feed me your cream,” he demands.
I feel faint at his request, like I might keel over with need. I slide all four fingers easily inside my cunt and rub vigorously. I want to keep them inside, giving myself the needed friction, but Dashiell wrenches my arm and my eyes pop open at his aggression.
He brings my small hand to his lips and sucks my fingertips before plunging all four inside his warm mouth. His swollen thickness lays glistening on the counter and I maneuver my body to mount him. I want him inside me.
“Not so fast, Princess.” Twisting one arm behind my back, he turns me until I’m bent over the pantry counter. Dash wrenches down my dress and then starts to slap my ass. I cry out in both pain and pleasure.
“Who’s in charge, Sam?” Dashiell grabs my hair and tugs until my forehead is flush with the counter while his other arm wraps around my middle, holding me fast.
He slides his huge erection up and down my ass crack, lubricated by my saliva. I groan and try to spread my legs, longing for him to enter me. In response, he kicks my foot back and yanks me around again.
“Please, I want to come,” I breathe.
Dashiell grabs the front of my hair and forces my face down again. “Nobody said you could come. You’ve been such a bad girl. I should punish you. But I’ll be nice and let you drink my cum.”
I nod my head, delirious with arousal, and swallow his fat dick again. My fingers, wet with saliva, fall from his mouth, and I slip them into my thong again.
“Nuh uh, Princess. No orgasm for you. Suck my cock like a good girl,” he orders.
His hands tangle in my hair as he controls me, ramming his huge manhood in and out of my mouth until I think I’ll scream with frustration. He holds my hands behind my back with one hand.
Then, when I feel like I can’t take anymore, he’s spilling his load into my mouth, hot spurt after hot spurt of his seed flooding my tongue.
“Take it, Tayla,” he grits. “Swallow it all to fill yourself up.”
I swallow and suck every last drop of cum from his hot rod. I sit up, banging my head on a low hanging cupboard with a giggle, and wipe the juice from my mouth.
“Let me give you one more,” he says.
I’m hoping for an orgasm, one single thrust, but Dashiell slips a piece of salmon sashimi into my mouth from one of the silver trays. I savor it, not closing my eyes this time but staring into his. Eating with Dash, or having him feed me, is a strange sort of magic. All of the emotional problems I have around food disappear when it comes from his fingertips. No baggage, no weight, just joy and pure abandon.
But I’m frustrated, too, balancing on the edge of a massive orgasm.
“We should get back out there,” Dash says, fastening his pants. “If the hors d’oeuvres were this good, I can’t wait to see what’s on the menu for the main course.” Dash shrugs on his suit jacket and tugs at the creases in his not-so-crisp shirt.
“I want to see you walking around out there with your clit so swollen for me you can barely keep your hands to yourself. Talking with everyone important and dying to have my rock-hard cock in your mouth, Princess.”
Maybe this is purely sexual for him. He’s not thinking about our connection. I’m an easy hook-up for him, a revenge fuck. Perhaps I’m just another fangirl and he’ll never look my way again unless he’s waiting for a dance cue. I’m scared of losing what I haven’t got, and I’m faced with the same problem that always haunts me—I don’t know what I want.
Dash pulls me to standing and drags me through the kitchen. He leads me into the crowd until we’re the center of attention once again. I look down, afraid that if I make eye contact with anyone, they’ll see the shame on my face. I probably reek of sex, and I’m so turned on I can barely stand up straight.