“Good.” He pulled his hand from her lips. “Open up.”
Her mouth fell wide and then he was in her throat. Not her mouth, her throat. All the way back. Cheryl sputtered and gagged, but Patrick fisted her hair, keeping her close. “Don’t give me that. Suck.”
And because she was fucked and broken, excitement surged through her. She closed her eyes and took him deeper.
“Fuuuuuck.” Patrick collected her hair in a tight ponytail. “That’s it. More.”
This is your best friend, Cheryl thought. And then, Do what he says.
She worked faster, licking and breathing through her nose, pressing her knees into the spongy floor to keep momentum. She’d done this so many times, it was a skill you learned like a carpenter learned sanding. Or so she thought. This was… different.
The taste of Patrick’s shaft, the knowledge she was servicing him in his football club, his grip on her hair… it was like she was getting head herself. She squeezed her thighs together and risked a look at his face.
Her sweet friend was nowhere to be seen. The mean, pretty boy fucking her mouth was a stranger. He made a circle with his finger and thumb and held it in front of her face. “You want out, you do this. Got it?”
She nodded around his dick.
“That’s a good girl. You wanna be a good girl for me, don’t you, KitKat?”
She nodded again, barely aware of anything that wasn’t his cock. She could feel him watching her, memorising the way her lips moved around his shaft.
“You don’t know how many times I pictured you sucking me off,” he snarled. “You don’t know how many girls I pretended were you.”
Jealousy spiralled through Cheryl like black dye in water. She worked faster; choking and glad to be choking. It was bad but it felt good the way spanking felt good. God, would he spank her? Pull her across his lap and punish her for making him wait so long? She forced her legs even closer together, hips rocking for stimulation that wouldn’t come.
But the jealousy had done something else. She felt disengaged from the dynamic, aware of how embarrassing it was to want to be topped by someone younger than her. Suddenly she felt like she was wearing pigtails and a choker necklace to a nightclub. Maybe Patrick sensed the change because his hold on her hair tightened. “Deeper,” he commanded.
She couldn’t go deeper, but she tried, gagging as her body refused to concede.
“Again.”
Cheryl suddenly remembered something that didn’t make sense. A quote from some other place and time. He that dies pays all debts. She plunged, and this time something gave. He filled her throat, filled her whole world. She looked up at him, eyes streaming, Is this what you want? Am I being good?
Patrick looked down, his gaze icy cold. “You can do better. Again.”
What’s the opposite of a praise kink? Cheryl thought. Whatever it is, I have that.
She arched her back and dove.
“Shit…” Patrick hissed and let go of her hair before closing it tight around her right breast. “Are you wet for me?”
She nodded, her head roaring white noise.
“Of course, you are. I can see you fucking the air. You want my dick inside you?”
“Yeargsh,” she said around his cock.
“Too fucking bad.” He pinched her left nipple, making her whimper. “I’m trying to decide if I should cum down your throat or on your tits.”
Cheryl’s pussy contracted.
“I’ve wanted both for ages. I wanna watch you swallow, but everyone’s always panting over your rack, driving me fucking crazy. I feel like I should get to cum all over them. Mark them so anyone who’s in here with us knows who you belong to.”
Awareness rolled through Cheryl, and she pulled back to speak.
Patrick pushed forward, filling her mouth with his dick. “No talking. You tell me with your tongue. Where do you want my cum?”
She wanted him to fuck her. She tried to say it with her eyes, and maybe it worked because Patrick laughed. “No chance. Hurry up and decide. Mouth or tits?”
