“You disgust me.”
“And you piss me right off, Molly girl.” My cock is stone-hard now, just from the fight in her. “Crawl over here and suck my cock.”
“With the dog?” she shoots back.
I glance down. Petal’s still tucked under my arm.
“Right.” I crack the door, put Petal down, and watch her skate off toward her bed. “Not into that. My interest begins and ends with you.”
The words hang there between us.
Her face shifts. Shock. Hope. Disbelief. Something fragile and dangerous.
I don’t know what to do with that, so I go with what I do best.
“Crawl,” I say. “Now.”
She glares, but desire wins. It always does with us. Not humiliation. More a battle of wills. The push and pull. Her choosing to submit and hating that she loves it.
One hand, then the other. Her arse sways as she crawls.
“I’ll get you for this,” she mutters.
I stroke her hair when she reaches me. “Looking forward to it. Suck my cock, Molly.”
For a second I think she’s going to refuse. Instead, she runs her fingers over the length straining against my shorts, presses her lips to me through the fabric, dragging them up and down. Then she hooks her fingers into the waistband and looks up.
“Then will you fuck my ass?” she asks.
“You’re ass-obsessed, Molly.”
“No,” she says. “I just want something to compare you to when I finally leave. So I know how bad you really were.”
I slide two fingers into her mouth, pump them in and out. “You’ll be pining for me for years.”
“In your dreams.”
“No, Molly girl. In yours.” I smirk. “But as punishment, I’m not gonna make you come. I’m not fucking your ass. When I do, I’ll tie you to a chair first so you can’t change your mind.”
She yanks my shorts down, freeing my cock. Molly licks a bead of pre-cum from the tip, fingers curling around me as she strokes up and down, then lowers her mouth, following the same rhythm.
It’s wicked. It’s perfect.
“You like the idea,” I murmur. “Every timeyou sit, you’ll think of it. Every time I tie you up, you’ll remember. You’ll go mad with wanting. Now suck me and make me come.”
She takes me deeper, tongue swirling, hand stroking. A groan escapes me, and she works harder, bobbing along my length.
I watch her, fingers curling into fists. It’s nearly enough, but not quite. I want more. I always want more with her.
I sink my hand into her hair and start guiding her, deeper and deeper, past that soft resistance in the back of her throat. She gags, but she doesn’t pull away. If anything, she clutches at my thighs and drags me closer.
Drool spills. Her eyes water. Every gag is a pulse around me, a squeeze of pressure that drives me higher.
Pleasure surges, tight and sharp. I hold her there, my cock buried in her mouth, and then I’m coming, hard, spilling down her throat.
My knees almost give.
When I’m done, I let go of her. She pulls back, wiping her mouth, breathing hard. I tuck myself away, and for a moment I’m tempted to pull her up, to wrap her in my arms, to tell her she’s safe. To spend hours tasting every inch of her until she forgets the feel of bark and hands and fear.
