Didn’t pause to think.
It was far,fartoo late for that.
Tongue darting out, I claimed that salty droplet. Moaning as my tongue swept the notch hidden beneath a ridge of angry flesh. Tasting, I pulled him between the points of my modified canines and was rewarded with a rumbling growl that sent waves of greed coursing through my skin.
More.
“That’s it,” he spat, and let me work. For the first time, despite the howling storm whirling inside him, he watched without taking. His hands tight without pushing, as if the restraint existed purely in flexing, bunching muscle. As if there were some greater victory in watching me move without the lash of burning gold.
I thanked him with a swallow when his tip found the back of my throat.
A breath stuttered between his lips, jaw chattering as he tried to gasp around a strangled, “Fuuuck.”
Brittle confidence surged in my heart, and I shifted closer. Making space between his feet, my knees spread where they were braced on prickling carpet—wider—I let his length slip from my lips. Scraping his shaft where it was wedged between my canines.
At this, he cursed in a tongue I’d never heard before. Some foreign language or Caledonian profanity that had never assaulted my ears. Guttural, breathless and desperate, and yet, his meaning was clear, even before he whispered, “I’m not going to last.”
I knew it. In the gush of brine that painted my tongue and the swirling energy that danced around us in an inferno of dark flames.
And then, hips tilting in some desperate bid to ease the neglected ache weeping between my thighs, I reached for that heavy, swollen purse. Massaging his balls, I took him deeper and felt his his every muscle go tight.
Trembling fingers caught my throat, slipping where I was wet with drool, he tipped my chin back, and forced a raspy, “Look at me,” through his teeth.
Lips stretched around his base, almost white and bloodless where he was thickest, I glanced up. Blinking as I was ensnared by sable depths. Helpless before him, and yet… it wasmyteeth, wicked and long and sharp, that held him on the edge.
And it was too much.
He shuddered. Feet shuffling before a guttural snarl shattered the illusion of composure. He fucked into my mouth once, twice, careful and without tether, before he wrapped one hand around his root and pulled out in a rush. Working his length in a fist gleaming with spittle, the sounds of debauchery sang out from a grip that quickly became a blur.
“Don’t move,” he growled, free hand anchored at my nape. Fingers tangled around braids that had come loose, he held me still, panting through his teeth, and lost control.
Just for a moment.
Just long enough to drown me beneath an ocean of pure feeling. I gasped—and stretched my ribs with a breath utterly saturated with Asher.
Up from the base of my spine, I felt him. Even before the first rope of gushing cream splashed against my cheek. Before he erupted with a hiss, I was lost.
Frozen in place, I came.
Hard.
Clenching around nothing, in time with every lashing rope of seed. I felt the impact of every searing jet not where I ached to be stretched, but laid down in sloppy ropes that burned my cheeks. My lips and nose.
“Asher—” I sobbed, over and under-stimulated.
Staggering closer, his grip in my hair turned my neck as he laid down rope after rope of come. Over the bridge of my nose, coating my lips in a thick glaze before he set his tip against my lips and ordered me to, “Taste it.”
I took.
Drinking,deeply, I sucked him down and feasted on the beast without restraint. Still gazing into that bottomless, inky glare, I was lost in the flames. Nursing the last drops from a cock still stiff and thick and angry.
And then he grinned.
It was a quick flash of teeth, a breathy exhale through his nose. “Painted your face,” he murmured, and sent his thumb tracking through the mess. Smearing it, he gathered that spilled cream and broke the seal I had around his girth as he pushed that digit into my mouth. Feeding me every last drop.
For a moment, his words were merely that. Sounds I didn’t understand until the fog lifted and he retreated behind his wall once more.
“Well.” I twisted away so he couldn’t see my lewd smirk, cheeks hot, still quivering with the aftershocks. “I think I prefer Alicia’s paints.” I licked at swollen lips tacky with his taste, wrinkled my nose, and said, “Not so bitter. And the result is much prettier.”
