Yes. That’s exactly what I want.
He cups my head, and starts to tentatively fuck my mouth, but when he pushes a little too far, I gag. He quickly retreats, and wipes the tears from my cheek with his thumb.
“Shit, sorry.”
I shake my head, and grab his ass pulling him back in, and relaxing my throat for him.
“Oh, fuck. Ivy. Baby.” His groan nearly turns into a whimper. “You want me to fuck that pretty little mouth?”
I nod my approval, then release him with a loud pop. “Yes. Stop holding back. I can take it.”
And that’s when I witness the exact moment his tether snaps.
“Tap me if it’s too much,” he growls.
Wesley fucks my mouthwildly. He thrusts in, hitting the back of my throat over and over, frantically chasing his release. I completely submit to him, letting him use me and my mouth to his full desire. I stroke his thighs, and cup his balls, touching every inch of skin I can get my hands on.
I breathe through my nose, relinquishing all control. Our gazes lock and I can feel the tears running down my cheeks, and the spit dripping from my mouth onto my thighs. I can only imagine the vulgar sight he sees right now.
“Jesus Christ. You were made for me,” he moans out.
Even though I just came, I’m needy again, and shifting my thighs, looking for relief.
“Touch yourself, baby,” he commands.
My eyes roll at the use of the pet name again. I don’t hesitate, obeying in a flash and bringing my hand down to rub my clit in quick circles. I moan around his length, and he hisses at the feel of it.
“Show me how wet that sweet cunt is,” he says through gritted teeth.
I dip into my center, then lift my hand in the air, displaying two drenched fingers. He grips my wrist with one hand and sucks both of my waiting fingers into his mouth, wrapping his tongue around them, humming.
He releases my hand, then returns his own to my head. “Make yourself come. I wanna see you fall apart on your knees, pretty girl.”
Holy shit. I could come from his words alone.
I bring my hand back down, and grind down onto my hand, rubbing my clit fervently until the orgasm tears through me out of nowhere, making my back arch, which only pushes him further down my throat. He releases a rough groan, and stammers quickly.
“If you don’t want me to come in your mouth, pull away now.”
I shake my head, grip the back of his thighs and pull him into me harder. His eyes roll back, and he tilts his head to the ceiling, muttering, “Made for me” before his dick swells, and he spills down my throat. His cum fills my mouth and I swallow down every drop, completely drunk on him and his addictive smell and taste.
I swipe my tongue around him one last time, cleaning him, and he sighs a sound of contentment. He slowly releases my hair, and brushes it away from my face. Using his thumbs, he brushes away the tears—and I’m sure mascara—running down my cheeks.
The look on his face is pure admiration. It makes my heart pound wildly. I swipe my finger at the corner of my lips, and slip it into my mouth to clean it off. He pulls his boxer briefs back up over his length, and grips me under the arms, lifting me to my feet like I weigh nothing.
He grips the back of my neck with one hand, and dips down, pulling me in for a swift, but tender kiss. When he pulls back, he pecks me on the jaw, then beneath the ear, before straightening, and righting my dress for me. He walks over to the paper towel dispenser and grabs a handful, before wetting them in the sink and returning to me.
Kneeling before me, he begins to softly wipe at my knees. He’s thorough, making sure to clean from my lower thigh, down to my shins.
The unfiltered affection he’s showing is killing me in the best way. I never considered myself touch starved, but now I’m thinking I might’ve been. The way he touches me and holds me, makes me feel something I can’t really put into words. He finally stands, and tosses the dirty towels in the trash. When he returns to my side, he gently strokes my arms and face, like he can’t get enough.
It’s quiet for a beat, then I breathe out, “Woah.”
Wesley tips his head back and laughs a full hearted laugh. When he lifts his head, he looks at me and dips his chin once in agreement, smiling so broadly, his dimples make an appearance.
“Woah,” he agrees.
20
