I shake my head. “Nevermind.”
“Tell me.”
I’m so embarrassed. More than I was when I came just before and shot bursts of damp air out of my dick.
“Ronan.”
“Tell me.” His tone brokers no argument.
I don’t know what words to use to tell him what I want, so I open my mouth and tilt my head back, showing him.
“Dirty,” he teases. “You want me to piss in your mouth?”
He reaches down and cups my chin in his hand and pulls my face so I’m looking at him. I swallow thickly and manage a nod.
“You’re a precious thing.”
He strokes my chin with his thumb and drops his hand to his side.
I lick my lips and taste him there, the musk of his cock on my tongue and the watery tang of his piss at the corner of my mouth. I lick it all up and stare up at him.
“Another time,” he promises. “If we do this again, I’ll piss in your mouth.”
He pushes his fingers between my lips and flattens my tongue. “Maybe I’ll piss inside of that stretched, beaten up asshole of yours and fuck it out of you.”
“Ronan,” I say, because it’s all I can say.
His words should be demeaning, humiliating, but they’re not. I’m hard for them. For him.
“I know. But I’m not done with you yet. I wager there’s at least one orgasm left inside of you and I plan to hurt it out of you.”
I groan, and he pulls me out of the shower and kicks me back into the play room. Then he does just that.
