No rush. No desperation. Control regained, one heartbeat at a time.
She’s trembling beneath my grip, her eyes lit with anticipation.
Her shoulders rise and fall with each rapid breath, her teeth worrying her bottom lip as her dark eyes follow the motion of my hand.
I free myself, wrapping my fingers around my dick and stroking once, in full view of her flushed face.
Her eyes widen slightly, a flash of anxiety crossing her expression before resolve hardens her features.
I guide her forward with the hand that’s gripping her hair at the nape of her neck. “Open your mouth.”
She parts her lips immediately, eager to obey. As she should be.
A little hum of satisfaction blinks in the back of my mind.
She’s perfect.
I press the head of my cock against her lips, relishing the wet heat of her mouth. With an arch of my hips and slight tug on her hair, I slide in. The sensation of her enthusiastic tongue nearly undoes me. I tauten my grip on her hair, forcing myself to stay in control.
Her eyes—those trusting brown orbs—never leave mine. They stare up at me, unblinking, as I push deeper into her mouth.
I’ve fucked countless women without experiencing a fraction of the eroticism infusing me as Chloe takes me in her mouth.
I need to short-circuit this electric and dangerous connection between us before it incinerates us both.
I shove her head down farther, burying myself deep in her throat and concealing her eyes.
Her body fights the intrusion, but her desperate gag only fuels my arousal.
I ease back just enough to let her drag air in through her nose.
“Take more.” I push her down again, not quite as deep. Testing her limits. Seeing how far she’ll go. If she’ll let me use her, claim her, mark her as mine.
Her throat works around me, struggling to accommodate my size while her hands grip my thighs for balance. No resistance, except from her tight throat.
The tendons in her neck strain, and a single tear tracks a clean line through the glitter on her cheek.
Not pain or fear. Surrender.
Total, complete submission to the sensation of being filled, used, possessed.
A hairline fracture forms in the ice I’ve cultivated around my soul.
I want to wipe that tear away. Want to taste the salt on my tongue and replace it with more.
I loosen my grip and allow her to catch her breath.
She shocks me by swallowing me whole, sucking viciously while her tongue strokes the underside of my cock.
The heat of her, the moans, the press of her tongue and palate and throat…
My eyes roll back in my head, and my curling toes almost split the seams on my socks.
She inhales through her nose and drives herself back down, choking on my cock without any assistance from me.
“Fuck.” I feel my control slipping again.
My hand stays in her hair, no longer forcing but guiding, setting a rhythm she avidly follows.
