“Hmm, sunshine?”
“Excited,” I answer honestly.
“So… keep going?”
“Yes, please, baby.”
The moment his fingers wrap around my length, his other hand closes around my throat, cutting off my air.
I’ve always craved this. Asphyxiophilia has been my kink for as long as I can remember, but after literally drowning, it became harder to find the pleasure I used to draw from it. With Keo’s patience—and the introduction of a safe word into our sex life—he’s brought that euphoria back to me.
His strokes are slow, deliberate, and it has me twitching with every glide. Each pass from base to head leaves me squirming.When he twists his wrist on the way back up, I instinctively try to suck in a breath—but his grip makes it almost impossible.
My eyes roll back, heat surging into my face as my stomach coils into tight, unbearable knots.
“That’s it. My good boy loves that, doesn’t he?”
The instant my eyes squeeze shut, he releases my throat—and I come so hard it streaks across his chest before spraying over my stomach. My mouth falls open, moans and gasps tumbling out as my body twitches through the waves of my release.
His hand keeps stroking me, dragging out every pulse until my back arches off the table. Then his mouth crashes onto mine, his tongue rough and insistent as it tangles with my own.
I clutch the back of his head, holding him to me, turning just enough to let him deepen the kiss. He devours me, groaning hungrily into my mouth.
His fingers thread through my hair, yanking my head back. His tongue drags down my chin, over my throat, where he sucks hard.
Helovesmarking me—bites, hickeys, whatever he wants, wherever he wants—and Ilovethat he does.
When he finally releases my cock, his hand slides around my midsection. In one smooth pull, he hauls me up, pressing our chests together as his mouth claims mine all over again.
“Let me show you how perfect you look when you come apart for me,” he croons against my lips.
We walk past the wall to wall window, right to the corner where a bench seat rests. On its opposite side is a full body mirror.
“But first… Why don’t you get on your knees and suck my cock.”
My mouth waters, and I obey his command almost immediately.
“That’s my good fucking boy.”
I wrap my hand around him, feeling him pulse in my grip, which has a thunderous groan vibrating from his throat.
He threads his fingers through my hair, tugging me back from his length. My eyes catch my reflection in the mirror, and seeing myself like this—submissive, kneeling before him—sends an electric rush of pleasure straight through my sensitive cock.
Fuck, we look so good together.
“This is what I see. Fucking perfection.”
He tugs on my hair again, drawing me closer, and I open willingly. He slides across my tongue, and feeling the three rigid bars against me has me moaning. Those two months of healing were brutal—not because he denied me, but because I couldn’t touch him. He said I could fuck him if I wanted… but that’s not really my thing.
I like being the one fucked, and I’m okay with that.
Veryokay with it.
He steps slightly to the right, aligning us with the mirror. The instant his thick head hits the back of my throat, I steal a glance at our reflection. His chin is raised to the ceiling, bottom lip caught between his teeth, causing my chest to tighten.
I love making him feel good. God, do I love it.
His hips thrust forward, and I press my tongue against the base, feeling that prominent vein pulse while matching every move eagerly.
