“You’re… huge.”
“Then you’d better open wide, sweetheart.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Grant
RAEJENSEN KNEELING ONthe floor at my mercy is a dream. Staring at my cock like she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing. It’s so goddamn good I can’t describe it. I give myself a single, explicit stroke—more for her benefit than mine—and step close enough to slide the tip over her lips.
The second my aching cock touches her tongue, I get just how tough this’ll be. I recognize now that what we’ve done here these past couple of weeks hasn’t been fighting or arguing. It’s been foreplay. I’ve never experienced anything like it. And while we both know that Rae’s come twice in the process, I’ve done no such thing.
At least not at work. In the shower? Yeah. Every single night, I’ve had to give in and think of her while I took care of business. And not once did it satisfy the urges that come up when she’s near.
“Good girl,” I say as I feed just the crown into her mouth. Her cheeks hollow, her tongue works, that addictive blush darkens, and all I can think is how gorgeous she is. I give in to my urge to test the heat of her skin and skate the backs of my knuckles down one side of her face as I ease my length in another inch.
She doesn’t seem to notice when half her hair tumbles down her back.
“Sunny,” I warn. “Hair up. You wanted it. You got it.”
The moan she lets out vibrates all the way to my balls, and though control is what I crave, I’m losing it with this woman, yet again. Fast.
No, fuck that.
“Keep your hair out of my way, Sunny. You have one job here. Just keep it up.” This is a lie, made all the more obvious as I stuff her mouth full of cock. But it’s all about the narrative, isn’t it? Another lie. Who gives a shit about narrative when it feels this good? I press in. Deeper. Her mouth works, struggling to contain me, to take it. All the while, her eyes watch me with the same wide-open excitement that drew me to her from the first.
I pull back so she can breathe and press in again, my jaw tight, my hips working. When she loses control of her hair again, something comes loose inside me. Unchained.
“Come on, Sunny,” I mutter, always bossy, always a prick. “Arms up. Hold your hair for me.”
She immediately obeys, and I stroke her face again to show her how happy it makes me, and then I let go just enough to bend down, grip her hands and her curls in one hand, and use her own body against her. A quick in and out, deeper, rougher. She takes it like a champion, moaning her frustration with each withdrawal.
“Good. Good girl. So pretty with my cock in your mouth.” I continue fucking her, slowly but firmly. With her arms occupied, she’s forced to push against me to stay up, and she’s working for it, my sweet girl. Working so hard. “There you go.” She’s squirming, her body writhing like she wants to put those hands to use between her legs, and if she can’t, she’ll use the floor, her thighs, whatever friction she can get. Her hair? It’s a chaotic burst of curls down her back while her hands hover lost in the air.
And that’s the thing about my brand of kink: the torment works both ways. Giving and withholding are just two sides of the same coin. So, yes, I could come like this, and it would feel damn good. But if I flip it? Prolong the agony for both of us with a bump of uncertainty and a little punishment for fun? Then everything is multiplied. It’s a feedback loop of give-and-take and want so deep I could do it for hours.
After a few more slow thrusts, I pull out, dripping saliva. Rae sucks in a deep breath, following my retreat like she wasn’t ready to let me go.
“No, sweetheart. Not yet.” I nudge her away. “You dropped your hands.”
“I… What?”
“Your hair.” I shake my head when she rushes to rectify the situation, alas, too late. “I’m disappointed.”
Her little whimper hits me hard in the solar plexus.
I cradle her face in one hand. She leans into it, her eyes shut like she’s in pain or embarrassed. “You okay, sweetie?” I whisper.
A nod.
“Tell me what you’re feeling.”
“I-I just hate messing up.”
“Oh, baby. You can’t really mess up in here. That’s the beauty of it. Even when you’re bad, you’re good. You get that?”
At her quick nod, I tug her hair back. “Say it, beautiful. Tell me you get how good you are. Always. No matter what you do.”
“Yes. Yes, sir.” I feel her shiver in my palm. “I’m good.”
