“Really progressive of you,” I murmur, sliding two fingers underneath the hem of his hoodie and skimming the band of his jeans.
His stomach goes concave when my fingers skim his skin, and my own belly tightens in response, twisting and knotting.
“Progressive?” He grunts, half chuckles. “You must not have been listening.” Then he covers my hand with his, stopping me from unbuttoning his jeans. He pinches my chin, tipping my head back with the other. “I meant what I said, Lennon. Take it out on me. I can handle it. But I draw the line at you coming out on the other side of this harmed.”
“That sounds awfully close to ‘you don’t have to do this.’” I jerk my chin out of his hold, irritated.
Irritated that he’s still talking when all I want from him are his pleas and groans.
Irritated that my heart fluttered at his concern.
“No, it’s more ‘make sure this is what you want.’”
Jerking his zipper down, I reach into his jeans and palm his heavy, thick cock. Because rock star. No underwear. So cliché. And one I appreciate.
Not wasting any time, I squeeze him, arrowing his long length down and into my mouth. Without preamble, I suck him. Pull him in deep. What started as a desperate move to shut him up backfires. At the first touch of his silk-over-steel flesh on my tongue, I’m gone. A moan rumbles up out of me at the salty, humid taste of him. Relaxing my jaw, I take more of him inside, sliding him over my tongue, lowering my head until that fat head bumps the back of my throat. Only then do I slowly withdraw, losing him with a small pop.
“Does that feel like I’m unsure of what I want?” I ask, lust roughening my voice to the consistency of gravel.
His eyes blaze down at me, and his hands knot in my hair, tugging. But I shake my hair, lifting my arms. Gripping his wrists, I pull on him until he untangles his fingers from my curls and allows me to clasp his hands together behind his back. Moisture trickles from my pussy to my panties, soaking them. Not just at my power play but at the knowledge that he’s permitting me to have this control over him. We both know he can wrest it away, hold my head right where he wants it and fuck my face until he pours down my throat. He’s done it before. Gentle and tender, but he’s done it. But now, he’s giving me this. The illusion of control.
And it’s intoxicating.
Hooking my fingers in the sides of his jeans, I haul them down just a little more until the tops of his hips and that devastating V are visible. It’d take a stronger woman than me to resist the call of that tempting letter, and I’ve proven time and time again that when it comes to this man, I’m weak. I lean forward, dragging my tongue up one side of it, nipping his hip bone, then blessing the other side with the same treatment. It’s worshipping beauty in the rawest manner possible. How it should be. With all that we are.
His big body trembles with the strain. To not grab me? To not take me to the ground? To not force me to take his dick back in my mouth?
I choose not to make him wait for that last one. Only because I don’t want to wait.
Because that’s why we’re doing this after all. For me. For my pleasure.
Yeah, keep telling yourself that.
I ignore the smart-ass voice in my head and return my attention to the beautiful cock insolently nudging my cheek. Closing my eyes, I inhale his heady scent, redolent of rain clouds struck by lightning and fresh rain. It’s more condensed here, so concentrated I could lick it off his cock, dip my head and sip it off his balls. Get drunk off it.
Is it any wonder I became enthralled with this man?
Parting my lips once more, I take him inside. His thighs bunch against my breast as his growl reverberates above me. I grip his hips for purchase and bob my head over him, sucking hard and slow. Then short and shallow. Flicking my tongue over the wide, plum shaped head, teasing pre-cum from the slit at the crown. Playing with the ridge under the tip. And King takes it all. His grunts and groans pepper the air, falling on me like gifts, each and every one of them.
And still, he keeps his hands behind him, giving me this. Being my—how had he put it?—scratching post.
I could toy with him for hours, that’s how good he tastes, how addictive he is. But a fine tremble has taken hold of his body, and it’s constant, as if there’s an internal war waging within him and it’s shaking him from the inside out. That same fire has taken ahold of me and my clit throbs while an emptiness yawns wide and deep inside my sex. I ache. It’s edging close to painful, and one rub over my pussy would alleviate it, but that would mean letting go of King. AndthatI’m not willing to do yet.
Raising on my knees, I sink down on his dick. Sinking. Sinking. Sinking. Until, again, the smooth, big tip nudges the tight channel of my throat. But this time, I don’t pull back. I push forward. I gag. And push forward, breath through my nose and deliberately relax my throat muscles. And push forward.
“Fuck, baby.” Fingers grip my hair, disappear. “Goddamn, sorry.” King’s ragged breaths punch the air like torn up fists. “Baby, please, again. Again,” he begs, demands. Somewhere in between.
Once more, because I want to, I slide off his cock but immediately return, sucking him down over and over. Tears stream from my eyes, but I don’t care. I don’t stop. Not when his hips thrust forward riding my mouth as more pleas fall from that dirty mouth. Pleas to “give him all of that throat,” to “open wider and suck harder,” and my personal favorite praise, “my baby loves to have her face fucked.”
I shouldn’t love that. But damn, I do.
My jaw aches, my eyes burn and my throat is sore, but still I slip him inside. And when his cock swells, filling me until I don’t think I can take anymore, I do. And when he growls a warning, I don’t pull back, I clutch his hips tighter, holding him closer and swallow every last drop of his cum, my name a roar in my ears.
And when he sinks down to his knees in front of me, scattering kisses over my eyes, cheeks and mouth, I sweep my tongue inside, granting him a taste of himself. And I almost orgasm when he sucks the residue of his release off my tongue.
Shooting to my feet, I toe my boots off and yank off one pant leg. Same with the panties. In seconds, I’m back down on the ground straddling King. He stares up at me, fisting his still hard dick, stroking it in a hard pump that looks a little merciless. I’m fascinated by his ministrations, and for a moment, I’m distracted from the lust tearing through me in a wild, destructive storm.
He’s so fuckingbeautiful.