But his hand tangles in my hair, stopping me. “Look at me.”
I lift my eyes to his.
Beneath the steel, they shine with raw emotion and a hint of vulnerability. “Tell me you want this.”
That little peek—the insecurity beneath the bravado—tickles the nape of my neck like a feather.
He’s human, just like me. He wants my permission.
Needs my consent.
And I give it gladly.
“I want this.” The admission is better foreplay than anything I’ve ever had with anyone else. “I want you. In every way possible.”
He nods once, the fist in my hair relaxing just enough to guide me forward. I take him into my mouth, savoring the salty musk on my tongue.
His deep groans reverberate through both our bodies.
Then he seizes control.
His hand tightens in my hair, setting the pace, pushing me farther onto him. I gag when he hits the back of my throat, my eyes watering, but he doesn’t stop or let me pull back. Instead, he tests my limits, forcing me to accept all of him.
“Breathe through your nose. Relax your throat.”
I try, focusing on his voice, on the praise that follows when I manage to take him deeper. “Good girl. It feels so good when you struggle to breathe around my cock.”
The filthy words trigger a fresh wave of heat.
They’re perfect.
This is exactly what I wanted. Needed.
Me on my knees.
Him in my mouth and controlling my movements.
There’s a freedom in this surrender that I’ve never known before that relaxes and soothes me.
I’m not Miss Chloe right now. Not the cheerful teacher. I’m just a woman, raw and real and wanted.
Knowing he sees me, that he desires me just as I am… Intoxicating heat blooms through every part of me, burning from the inside out.
This sensation threatens to incinerate me.
“Look at you.” He brushes my hair back, out of my way, and squeezes the strands. “Taking my cock so deep. You’re so strong…so great at this. Such a good girl.”
The praise drags a moan from me, the vibration in my throat causing his hips to jerk forward. He fucks my mouth harder, his control slipping a tiny bit. He’s getting close, his rhythm becoming more erratic, his breathing more ragged.
Then he pulls back, withdrawing from my mouth with a wet sound that should embarrass me but doesn’t. I peer up at him, confused, my lips swollen and slick.
“Stand up.”
With shaky deer legs, I obey. He circles me slowly, his eyes raking over my body like he’s memorizing every inch. When he’s behind me, he leans close, his breath hot against my ear.
“Strip.” The simple, direct command leaves no room for hesitation.
My hands tremble as I reach for the hem of my shirt. I pull it over my head and let the fabric fall to the floor. My bra follows, then my pants and thong. Each piece of clothing removed makes me more vulnerable. More his.
