Xave’s grip on my hair softens as I pop the button on his jeans, and he lets go when I tug the zipper of his fly down.
“That’s it,” he says, his tone full of heat and encouragement. “Now pull my dick out.”
Thank fuck for the darkness around us because I can feel my hands shaking as I slip one under the waistband of his underwear and grip his cock.
He’s hard and hot against my skin, and my stomach clenches as I carefully pull him out.
I didn’t get to touch him at the AV party, and the reality of holding his thick cock is so much better than the snippets of memories I have of the rave.
“There you go,” he says softly. “You’re doing good.”
There’s something different about his voice. It’s still the same sexy, slightly raspy tone that’s way hotter than it has any business being, but there’s a hint of praise under it that hits me right in the chest.
Do I have a praise kink?
I already learned I have a thing for degradation after Xave called me a slut and told me about all the ways he wanted touse me in front of whatever witnesses happen to be around, but that’s not all that surprising considering the other stuff I’m into.
But praise is different. It’s on the opposite end of the spectrum from my other kinks, and it’s not something that’s ever really mattered to me in my everyday life. I don’t seek out praise or acceptance from people, ever, and I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks of me. Of everything I’m discovering about myself, it makes the least amount of sense.
But is it the praise that’s getting me off, or do I like it so much because Xave is the one praising me?
Shaking off that thought, I grip him by the base and lean in.
I’ve wanted to taste him again since the night of the rave, and now that I can do it with a clear head and actually remember it tomorrow, I’m not going to worry about why Xave’s words are getting me hot.
The first brush of his cockhead against my tongue makes me groan, and I’m embarrassingly eager as I wrap my lips around him and draw his length into my mouth. He feels good. The weight of him against my tongue, the way his girth stretches my lips, and the heady scent of musk and man are a thousand times better than any of my fantasies or the pieces of my memories from the rave.
His taste explodes on my tongue, and I suck him all the way to the back of my throat on the first pass.
His groan is low and deep, and I swallow around his cockhead, trying to coax more of those pleasure sounds from him.
“Fuuuck,” he rasps, drawing the word out. “That’s it. Show me what a good cocksucker you are.”
His words, and the way he says them, hit something deep inside me, and I move over him, sucking and swallowing and using my tongue to tease the underside of his shaft.
He’s not being quiet, and every grunt and groan is like music to my ears as I work him over.
Everything about him is turning me on, from the feel of him in my mouth to the masculine sounds of him enjoying my attention, and I almost purr around him when he cards his fingers through my hair and gently grips the strands.
I’m expecting him to either hold me still so he can fuck my mouth, or use his grip to move me over him, but he doesn’t. And the light touch only adds to my desire.
My cock is so hard it feels like it’s being crushed in my pants, but the only thing I can focus on is how good Xave feels and how much I want to make him come.
“Yeah,” he murmurs when I wrap my hand around the part of him I can’t fit in my mouth and move it in tandem so I’m stroking and sucking him at a fast pace. “That’s it. Make me feel good.”
I moan around his length as he shifts his hand to cradle the side of my head, and I almost purr like a damn cat when he gently rubs his fingers against my scalp.
“You like being on your knees for me, don’t you?” he asks, still rubbing my head like he knows exactly what I want and how to give it to me.
I can’t answer with his dick pressing down my throat, so I hum around his length and take him even deeper.
He rumbles out a low groan. “Yeah, you do.”
His other hand slips into my hair, and he gently grips the strands so he can hold me in place.
“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Stay just like that and let me fuck that pretty mouth of yours.”
A strange sense of calm settles over me, and I grip his thick thighs as he slowly rocks his hips.
