I strain to look up, wanting to know if he’s as destroyed as I am or if he’s still that easy, sly, pristine creature I thought I knew before everything blew up. He doesn’t appear angry or mean, the way I half-expect, but something else.
Concentrated.Fascinated.There’s a look… What is that? A sort ofI did thatexpression on his face as he pumps into my mouth again, slow and deep. Something close to pride that’s somehow absurd and also very, very appealing.
Wonder.
That’s it.
“Oh, you don’t fucking know how often I’ve…”
What? He’s what?
I pull back and lick the musky salt at the tip of him. It’s a flavor I’ve been craving all my life, I just didn’t know it.
Zion looks amazed. Like a boy who’s opened a gift at Christmas and it’s a million times better than what he expected. Or wanted.
“Fuck, Twy…” His growled words betray the slow, measured, deep strokes he’s clearly straining to maintain. “So goddamn good.”
I get another happy rush from the compliment and pick up my pace.
“Such a good little brat.”
Brat.
Shivering as those words echo through me, I give him another slow lick, then pull him out to stroke his stiff length against my face, leaving another wet mark on my cheek. I can’t look away, don’t want to break this connection between us.
“You’re beautiful,” he says. Maybe. I think. I don’t know. “Beautiful brat. Takin’ me so good.”
I shiver from those words and go deeper, try harder.Brat. Good girl. Something like pride’s running through me at the idea that I’m taking him well and pushing his buttons and, just that makes me want to try harder, do better, open wider for whatever he gives me.
Why is it this way? Why does this man make me feel hungry and aching and empty and also such raw tenderness that it scares me?
And all this from a blow job.
He presses deep and I relax my throat and take him, the rest of my body pure fire. Inside, though, something shifts. It’s tiny, but momentous.
It scares the crap out of me.
“Oh, fuck, that’s it, Twyla baby,” he growls, low and mean, the words hitting every nerve ending in my body. “That’s it. Suck it. You like sucking me, little brat?”
I love it, I want to say, though words are clearly impossible. I love it so much I’m afraid what will happen when it ends.
17
Zion
Twyla looks up, tries to nod—not easy caught in my hands like this, with my dick nudging her throat.
She gags and I pull out all the way, release her throat long enough to take myself in hand and paint her lips with another gush of pre-come and then, since she likes spankings, slap her on the face with it.
With a groan that sounds like pure, distilled pleasure, her body goes loose, her weight pulling at where I’ve got her by the hair. It’s got to hurt, but that only makes her jolt and stretch and shove those titties at me, like an offering to some fucked up god. “These are mine.” I slap one, then the other, ignoring the way her mouth follows the movements of my dick. “Fuck, you’re wild for this, aren’t you?” Another slap of my dick to her face, which isn’t as satisfying as it’d be without the damn mask, but her reaction’s just as electric. My baby likes to get her face slapped. How hard and with what is just something we’ll have to explore.
But not now. Now, I’m starving for more of that wet, soft tongue, that blank, open-mouthed gaze, those little gaspy whimpers I’d record if I could. “I’m gonna fuck your face now,” I warn her. “Safe word if you need to.” I look down at where she’s touching herself. “Put a hand on my leg, baby, so you can tell me to stop.”
She shakes her head and whatever she’s trying to say comes out garbled and wet as I slide back inside, but she obeys and that’s all the permission I need before I let myself lose it.
“Oh, fuck, yes,” I mutter, watching her open wide, watching myself sink in, pink lips, stretched wide around me. I pull out, my cock slick with all that spit. She tries to suck me, but I’m beyond that.
A long slide out, another slow intrusion, deep, deep, until I hit her throat. She gags, I let her hair go, back out again and then clench my ass and thrust, harder, faster, deeper, my balls slapping her chin. I want more. What, I don’t know, but it’s not enough, doing this.
