I want to tell him I’m the best boy, but instead I let him slide to the back of my throat and swallow around his thick cock. His hand curls over the headboard as he begins to thrust in and out of my mouth, his sexy sounds of pleasure making my dick jerk.
“God, I think you’re trouble,” he says, his eyes closing to half mast. “I’m going to cut your circulation off if I don’t pull out of your mouth. Ah, fuck.”
Chuckling, I enjoy the way he shudders as the vibration moves up his body. With a shuddering breath, he gathers enough discipline to draw himself back, and then he’s quickly zip tying my other wrist.
“Fuck, you look good like this,” he whispers in awe. Moving back until he’s between my thighs again, he glares at me until I pull my legs up and apart.
“Is this what you want?” I ask, watching as he carefully checks the label of the bottle again before liberally coating his fingers.
“No, I want you to beg for my dick,” he says, stretching my hole with his fingers.
Breathing deeply, I focus on how good it feels to have him slowly finger fuck my ass. I don’t beg, so he can wait or break. Either way, I’ll get his cum eventually.
“You’re going to be difficult, aren’t you?” Beckham asks.
“Mmm,” I groan out. “I don’t know what you mean. Why don’t you focus on the part when I’m being a good boy and desperately deserve to be frosted like a donut?”
Beckham chokes on a surprised laugh, shrugging.
“Screw it. I’m in a good mood, and very much want to fuck you,” he says.
Beckham removes his fingers in lieu of his dick, and I have to say that it’s overwhelming and incredible. His dick is thick, the slick helps him slide in deep, and I groan like the cum whore that I am.
“God, that’s good,” I praise him. “Are you going to fuck me hard and deep or are you in a teasing mood, Beckham?”
He doesn’t respond as he leans over me, pushing my chin up so he can kiss me. His strokes are slow and sure, and this feels surprisingly like love making.
Beckham is usually very self contained, and I’ve noticed that sex with him is choreographed to be exactly what he needs. Instead, he sighs as his hips move just enough to snap his cock deep inside of me, and he’s careful to make sure I enjoy every second.
“I haven’t decided yet,” he mutters, continuing to kiss me. “I’m just going to go with the flow tonight. It’s been very good to me so far.”
Thinking about that, I realize that he’s right. Beckham hasn’t once tried to dictate things, and while he’s been staring at me funny, he hasn’t said a word about it.
Like a human golden retriever summoned by the promise of sex and orgasms instead of treats, Jamie wakes up, his lids heavy, and his gaze interested. Nudging Tatum as he nudges Tater Tot awake, he drags a sleepy alpha to his dick to swallow him down.
Mmmm. No rules, nothing planned, can be just as hot.
“Ugh.” I gasp. “Don’t…stop. We have an audience, Professor”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” he says, his lips twitching as his gaze remains on me.
It feels like Beckham’s hands are everywhere. From his hand gripping the back of my neck, to his other hand stroking my cock after liberally applying the warming lube. It makes everything feel really intense, and my eyes cross at how good he feels.
“I think I’m going to be the one to take care of you,” he confesses. His kisses are addicting, and I whimper as he pulls them away from me again. “You’re as grumpy as I am sometimes.”
“Hmm,” I say, unable to do more than that. Words are hard, and I don’t want to play at being able to talk normally.
Beckham Kennedy may be fucking me, but he’s the one who is royally fucked. I can’t wait to finally bite him and bond his obstinate ass to me forever.
“I like it when you’re tongue tied,” he says smugly. His hand corkscrews around my crown exactly the way I like it and my hips jut upward as a reflex. “The three of you like to top from the bottom.”
“Can’t help it when you feel so fucking good,” I confess.
His lips curl into a grin as he drops his head back to pull my soul from my body with his kisses. It keeps my groans and gasps muffled as he fucks me harder, his thrusts becoming wilder.
It’s a beautiful thing when Beckham loses control.
“Come with me?” I ask, feeling my knot begin to inflate.
