I moan, and he kisses me again to shut me up. I melt into him. Can't even breathe straight. "Don't be loud, love," he says, "your whole family is two rooms away."
"I know," I gasp.
He laughs. Fucking laughs.
I bite his neck. "Can I go down on you?" I whisper.
His hand slips under my shirt, dragging up my stomach.
"Please?" I’m already so hard it hurts.
"You're gorgeous when you beg," he mutters. "You should see yourself. So fucking needy."
I grab his belt. Yank him closer. "Take it off," I say. He raises an eyebrow. "You giving orders now?"
"I'm desperate," I breathe. "Don't pretend like you don't love it." He pushes me against the shelf this time, lips back on mine, hips grinding into mine.
"I do," he whispers. "I fucking love it." We kiss like animals. Moaning silently into each other's mouths. My hands in his hair, his mouth at my jaw, my ear, my throat. I’m burning.
"Fuck—" He gasps. "Fifteen minutes isn't enough."
"Then we better start now." I drop to my knees like I belong there. Eyes up, waiting for him to give me permission to touch.
He’s already hard and so fucking beautiful I almost whimper. His shirt is open, abs glistening with sweat, chain hanging low between his collarbones.
He looks down at me like I'm the filthiest thing he's ever seen. God, I want that look. I crave it. I reach for his zipper, but he grabs a fistful of my hair first, lifting my head up. "Look at me," he says.
I do.
Knees pressed to the floor. My dick already throbbing from nothing but the weight of his stare. "You want this?" he asks. I nod. "Please." His lips curl, half-smile. "Such a good boy."
Fuck. I almost cum right then. He lets me go, and I move carefully, unzipping him, pulling him out. I kiss the head first. Just to hear his breath hitch. Then I lick a stripe up the underside and try not to moan.
"You're so hard already," I whisper. "Did I do that to you?"
"You did. You on your knees like this? Shit, Rava…fuck me sideways." He tangles his fingers in my hair again, tighter this time, guiding me. Reminding me who I'm doing this for. And I love it. I open my mouth and take him in, lips wrapping around the head, tongue teasing the slit, hand stroking what I can't reach.
My throat is already stretching for him. My jaw burns. But I don't care at all.
I want to feel used. I want to be good for him.
"Just like that," he hisses, hips jerking forward. "Fuck, your mouth should be illegal."
His praise makes me moan around him. The vibration makes him grunt.
"You're made for this," he says. "You're made to suck my dick."
I pull off just long enough to nod. "I love it," I breathe. "I love making you feel good."
"Then keep going," he says. "Show me how much."
And I do. I sink back down, let him slide deeper this time.
Gag once, and he moans. I can feel his dick twitch on my tongue as I suck harder, faster, worshipping every inch of him.
He holds my hair tight now, guiding me. His hips roll slow and deep into my mouth, controlled but desperate.
Every time I look up, he's already watching me.
