“Holy… shit,” he grits out, voice ragged.
I look up, his cockhead still in my mouth, and he’s staring at me like he doesn’t believe what’s happening.
“It’s not a lollipop, you know that, right?” Alex’s voice is rough, strained, like he’s seconds from breaking. His eyes are locked on me, dark and conflicted, pleasure fighting against his last thread of control.
And he likes it—fuck, he likes what I’m doing.
“Take that cock down your—” He cuts himself off, biting hard on the words, but it’s too late.
Before he can stop me, I grip his base tight and slide down, taking him deeper into my mouth. His thick length stretches me wide, filling me until the blunt tip pushes against the back of my throat, my eyes sting, and I gag, but I don’t pull away. I stay there, steadying my breath, letting my mouth adjust around him. My eyes squeeze shut, and I wait for panic. For fear. For disgust. But all I feel is heat. Power. Happiness.
I’m doing this for him. For us. For me.
His hand slides into my hair, stroking instead of pulling, fingers threading tenderly like he’s afraid to hurt me. That touch—gentle where he could be rough—makes my chest ache. I blink up at him, my eyes watering, and when our gazes lock, there’s concern flickering in his.
So I smile around his cock. Then I sink again, letting him hit deeper into the tight clutch of my throat.
This time, he groans. The sound wrecks me, hungry and desperate, his hand tightening but not forcing. He just holds on, anchoring himself.
Then I start to move—slurping, sucking, licking along every ridge, finding what makes him twitch, what makes his thighs tense, what makes his chest heave. Letting myself explore everything I’ve been holding back for years. Each grunt, each sharp inhale from him sends a jolt of pride through me, my ego swelling with every curse that slips past his lips. I gag and push further, reckless with the need to give him every part of me I’ve held back for so long.
“You’re… fucking killing me,” he growls, voice rough and wrecked.
The sound vibrates through me, and I moan around him. The vibration makes him shudder, his grip tightening in my hair as if he’s seconds from losing the last of his control.
And hell, I want him to lose it. I want to be the one to break him.
My own cock aches, weeping, desperate, and ignored. But it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is Alex—his voice breaking, his body trembling, his cock filling my mouth like it was always meant to be here.
“Yes, princess… just like that,” he grits out, his fist tightening in my hair as I swirl my tongue over his swollen head. I pump him with both hands, messy, needy, while I dragmy mouth up and down his shaft. His voice sharpens, almost breaking. “Fuck—you’re gonna make me cum.”
And then it happens. He thrusts, a sharp buck of his hips like instinct taking over, forcing himself deeper into my throat. I choke, gag loudly, eyes flying to his. He freezes immediately, apology written all over his face.
But I don’t stop him. I tap his thigh, giving him a look that says Don’t you dare hold back from me and also begging him silently to keep going.
“You want me to thrust?” His voice is ruined, eyes hazed with lust and war.
I answer with a moan and a rough bob of my head down his length.
That’s all it takes. His control snaps. His thighs spread wider, his grip on my hair turns iron, and he fucks into my mouth—slow at first, then harder, deeper. His cock drives down my throat, tears streaking my eyes, the feeling magical. I don’t stop him, I can’t. His hips roll with controlled but hungry thrusts. He doesn’t look away. His eyes stay locked on mine, watching the way I take him, watching me fall apart on his cock.
“Fuck, baby…” His voice is raw, laced with ecstasy. “You look so beautiful like this. Your mouth feels so good—so warm—so fucking mine.”
Every word goes straight to my cock, to the pressure building low in my belly. I can’t stand it. My hand flies down, shoving into my shorts, gripping myself hard. I’m leaking, throbbing, close to the edge just from his words, from the way he uses my mouth. Every thrust to my throat makes my whole body quake with need.
“Do you want my cum?” His voice is raw, broken, every word dripping with need. His cock pulses against my tongue, his thrusts sharper, rougher. Tears blur my vision, my throat raw, but it only makes me hungrier. Fuck. I could come just from this,just from him using my mouth like this, just from the way he’s unraveling me.
I hum around him, taking him deeper, refusing to let go.
“Baby…” His tone shifts—pleading now, desperate, his hands twitch in my hair like he’s trying to tug me off. Instead, I hollow my cheeks, sucking harder, tighter, like I can fuse him to me.
“Fuuuck—” he groans, guttural, undone. And then he breaks. Hot, thick release spills down my throat in heavy pulses, filling me, branding me. I moan against him, swallowing greedily, sucking him through every wave, slurping every drop, shuddering with the sheer intensity of having him, tasting him, claiming him like this.
I don’t let a single drop go to waste.
When he finally pulls out, slow and shaky, my mouth feels empty, ruined, aching for more. His thumb brushes across my swollen lips, slow, reverent, as though he can’t believe I just gave him this. His eyes are molten, undone.
And then he’s pulling me into his arms, kissing me deep and unguarded. His tongue pushes into my mouth, tasting himself on me, his dominance laced with something softer, something that makes my chest ache as much as my throat. It’s filthy, intoxicating, and so goddamn hot I could cry.
