Slowly, I run my tongue along the underside of his cock, slipping it from my mouth, a thin trail of saliva dangling between his tip and my lips. I hear him groan as he watches me, his fingers tightening in my hair, but I take my time, sloppily coating him with my spit, before I drag my hand up and down, jerking him as I lower my nose to the base of his cock and take one side of his sac in my mouth.
His reaction is everything I hoped for. His hips jerk, his breath catches in his throat, and he grunts with pleasure, his hand leaving my hair to grip the armrest tightly. “Fuck, yeah, right there,” he mutters, gritting his teeth as I move from one side to the other. A smile curls my lips as I let his balls pop free and work my way back up his cock, tonguing the shaft like a fucking popsicle. When I get to the top, he’s humping the air, eager to be back inside my mouth, and I sigh with pleasure at the power I hold over him. I have the ability to end his suffering, to bring him to the heights of pleasure with orgasmic bliss. Or, I can tease him to the edge, and make him beg for it.
Not that this man would beg under any other circumstances. But for me, he begs without hesitation. It's amazing. A real power trip.
He knows how to get exactly what he wants, every time. But so do I.
So I inch closer, the feel of my thighs brushing against each other near unbearable in my heightened state of arousal, and swallow his cock down again, until my nose presses against his pubic bone.
“Shit, I’m gonna bust–”
I run the tip of my nails along the underside of his taint and he comes down my throat with a muffled shout, hot ropes of cum filling my mouth until some spills over. I can’t keep up, swallowing around his length is damn near impossible, but I’m careful not to let any of it get on my skirt. I can hide white on white, but there’s no hiding white on black.
My lips pop off his dick with an audible sound, and I leave him there, limp and sated, staring down at me in wonder and appreciation.
Just as I begin to rise from my knees, he’s on his feet, spinning me around and bending me over the arm of the chair,my skirt still up around my waist, wet and waiting and eager for him. For what I know is coming next.
“You’ve had your fun,” he snarls in my ear, bent over my back, his loins pressed against my ass, the flimsy barrier of my panties not doing much to hide me from him. “Now, I get to have mine.”
chapter thirty-two
Kai
We spentall night fucking at the cabin. Took turns doing things we'd never done, indulging fantasies and playing games and jus enjoying the company of one another outside of the house until we were both too tired to stand. I took her again in the kitchen while she made us breakfast this morning, rutting up into her so fast and hard it was a miracle she managed to actually cook while I lost my mind inside her.
And she blew me again in the backseat of the car on the way to the award show.
She's sitting out in the front row with Anton at her side, and I know she's safe, but since I can't be with her during the show, I'm antsy and nervous. I don't want to be away from her just yet. It's like separation anxiety to the max.
Before we left Nocturna Beach, I checked on that asshole's schedule, found out through a friend that he's supposed to be back there all weekend. He's got two interviews on his schedule. But there's no telling what he's got planned. And until I'm sure what to expect, until I'm safely at Denali's side, I'm not able to relax.
My former bandmates can tell, too.
We sit side by side by side in a row, the five of us, getting our hair and makeup done like the good ole days.
"Are you sure you'll remember the moves, Kai? After all, when's the last time you even made an appearance with us? Five, six years ago?"
At the end of the row sits Somchai, not our leader, but our lead everything else. Always a perfectionist, he's been doing solo stuff for years now, but I was the first one to pulla way and go off on my own, and he's never forgiven me for leaving the industry altogether and turning into an actor instead.
I bet he rolled out of his chair laughing when he saw that I'd taken an idol contract with kNight Ent. He always swore I'd get tired of acting and come crawling back.
Well, he got his wish.
"It's been three and a half years, and yes, I'm sure I'll remember the moves," I huff as my makeup artist toys with the eyeliner around my lashes. "You have to warm up the tip of that pencil, or it makes my eyes water too much and ruins it," I tell her, thinking back to the time Denali taught me that trick.
"I know how to do my job," the poor girl mutters under her breath, but I brush it off as she finishes her job and walks off, glad to be done with me, no doubt.
"So," Dima says with a grin, spinning in his makeup chair, "are you excited?"
"Eh," I'm noncommittal about it, hoping he won't ask too many questions. "I'm meh about it. I didn't even know we were being nominated until three days ago."
"Oh, right," he nods solemnly, all seriousness now. "Didn't your company make an announcement that day, too? Something about respecting their performers' private lives and decisions in them?" He's teasing me, but I know what he's after. And I'm not giving it to him.
"He's seeing someone on the side. I can't believe he turned out to be straight. When we were in dorms?—"
I hurl a shoe at Jihoon, whose attitude has always been my least favorite. He's had a running joke that I'm gay ever since he caught me jerking off in the dorms and I didn't bother to put it away or stop while he rummaged around in his drawers for a pair of socks.
It's not like I pointed it at him and came on his damn face, but the way he carries that joke years later, I might as well have.
