She opens her mouth and finally takes me in, not all the way, just the head, and the heat is fucking incredible. She swirls her tongue around me, licking and sucking gently, and I can feel the wet, velvety heat of her mouth pulling me deeper. Her hand is still working my shaft, a steady, slick pressure that matches the rhythm of her mouth.
I look down and the sight is fucking pornographic. Bianca on her knees, her dark hair falling around her face, her beautiful lips stretched around my cock. Her eyes are locked on mine, watching every flinch, every reaction she pulls from me. She’s studying me, learning what I like, and she’s a quick fucking study.
She's good at this. Too good. The thought of where she learned makes jealousy spike through me, but then her mouth is on me and I stop thinking about anything except the way she looks on her knees.
"You're so eager," I manage. "My good little girl, aren't you? On your knees where you belong."
She makes a sound around me—half protest, half agreement.
I grip her hair, not controlling but guiding. "That's it. Take it deeper. Show me what that smart mouth is really good for."
She does just that.
“That’s it, baby,” I groan, my voice rough. “Just like that. Take me deeper.”
She moans in response, the vibration shooting through me like lightning, and she obliges, sinking down until I feel the back of her throat. She gags slightly, pulling back with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting her lips to me. She doesn’t stop. She gaspsfor air and goes right back down, taking me deeper this time, her throat relaxing around me.
“Fuck, Bianca, your mouth… it’s so goddamn good.” I can’t help it. I slide one hand into her hair, not forcing, just holding, feeling the silken strands against my fingers. She picks up the pace, her head bobbing, her hand twisting on the downstroke. The wet, sucking sounds are obscene and perfect. She’s not just doing this; she’s worshipping me. Every flick of her tongue, every deep throat, every time she hollows her cheeks is a prayer.
I’m losing my fucking mind. “You look so good like this. On your knees for me. Your perfect lips wrapped around my cock.” I thrust my hips up slightly, meeting her rhythm, and she takes it, her eyes watering but never leaving mine. “You’re mine, remember? You said it. This pretty fucking mouth is mine.”
She hums in agreement, the sound vibrating through my entire body, pushing me closer to the edge. The pressure is building, coiling tight in my gut. I’m close, so fucking close.
I pull her off. She looks up at me, lips swollen, eyes dark.
"Turn around," I tell her. "Hands on the couch."
She does. I flip her dress up, admire the view for half a second before bringing my hand down on her ass. Hard enough to make a sound. To leave a mark.
She yelps.
"That's for flirting." Another slap, other side.
"I wasn't?—"
"Quiet." I smooth my hand over the red marks, then slide two fingers inside her. She's ready. More than ready. "This is what you wanted. To be reminded who's in charge."
I work her with my fingers until she's shaking, right on the edge again. Then I pull out, replace them with my cock, pushing in hard and fast.
We both groan.
I set a brutal pace, one hand gripping her hip while the other slides around to work her clit. The couch creaks with each thrust but I don't care. Don't care if someone hears. Don't care about anything except making her fall apart.
"Come for me," I order. "Right now."
She does. Clenching around me, her whole body going tight before she collapses forward.
I follow seconds later, spilling inside her with a groan I barely manage to muffle.
For a long moment, we just stay there. Breathing hard. Connected.
Then reality crashes back.
We're at a party. We've been gone for at least twenty minutes. People have definitely noticed.
I pull out carefully, help her stand. Find her underwear and hand it to her.
"We can't keep doing this."
