It jumps at the sensation of being watched.
And then he speaks, his voice tentative. “I’m really not letting you suck my dick.”
I say nothing, just let my lips part slightly. Let him imagine putting his cock right between them.
“Even with what happened last night…we can’t do this. I mean, it’s been a while, and Iamstressed, but it doesn’t mean I’m that desperate.”
“It’s okay to be desperate,” I say. “I’m desperate for it. There’s no shame in that.”
“You’re not ashamed of much.”
“You’re right. I’m not. Life’s much better when you do what you want without letting pesky things like shame get in the way.”
He hesitates, and then I hear him walk away, the door to the bathroom shutting. I hear the shower turn on, and I wait with bated breath until he returns. I regret that I can’t see him walking out in a towel, but then again, this is even better. Almost.
It’s the excitement that makes my heart race, my pulse thumping in my neck, my cock twitching between my legs.
When the water turns off and the door opens, I stare at the blackness, wishing I could see him.
But instead, I can smell him. Clean, like soap. Citrus. Like a gin and tonic. I could get drunk on him. Just pour me a triple.
I hear his soft footsteps move up to the bed, and I turn my head, trying to see him once more. But he tied it too tightly. It’s staying on. It’s just darkness before me.
“The shower didn’t help me relax.”
“That’s because you need more than a shower.”
He huffs, and then I feel the brush of his finger against my lips.
“I’m not attracted to you,” he lies. I can smell the scent of his need rolling off him. “But you’re right. Maybe a blow job will help me calm down. You know, just so I make it through this with a clear head.”
I bob my head and part my lips for him. He should definitely do this. For stress relief and for the relief of my dick.
I just want a taste of him. Just a lick.
“I can’t believe I’m even considering this. I’m losing my fucking mind. If they knew what I’m about to do...”
“Who?” I ask.
“No one.”
I open my mouth to respond, but the bed shifts and I feel him straddle me, his feet on either side of my hips, his hands landing inmy hair. The rough scrape of his nails on my scalp makes me groan.
“Just this once. I don’t want you to expect this every day.”
Iwillexpect it, but I don’t say that out loud. He has no idea how good I am at giving head. I’m the fucking best.
And then he steps forward, slightly off kilter from the angle of the lopsided mattress, but he manages to drag the tip of his dick across my mouth. I let him test it before sticking my tongue out and lapping at his head. Flavor explodes across my taste buds—cum and soap. Fresh and sweet.
His hands tighten in my hair, and I lean forward, taking the tip of him inside of me.
He groans, and so do I, hollowing out my cheeks and applying suction. He pushes forward slightly, and I feel my wrists strain against the bonds on them. I want to loosen them and grab on to his hips. I want to take hold of him and thrust him into me. But I need to move at his pace.
This kidnapping won’t kill me, but that might.
Ansel moves more slowly than I’d like. Like he can’t believe he’s doing this. And I’m left chasing after his cock each time he retreats, my mouth empty and desperate to be filled.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” He mutters this several times. With each thrust forward, his cock sinking further into me, he says it.
