He shifts until he’s sitting up a little more, getting the leverage he needs to bring his other hand to my head as well. If I had longer hair, I’m sure he’d be pulling at it right now. Instead, he settles for gripping me tight and beginning to fuck my mouth in earnest.
I choke and splutter while my throat seizes and grips at his cockhead every time he punches into me. Saliva is coming out of my mouth in fucking rivers. Everything is wet, and the sounds coming out of me sound like torture porn.
It’s fucking ecstasy, though. This is the sound of heaven.
Fallow is grunting now, sounding more undone than I’ve ever experienced before.
“That’s it. Yes.Fuck. What a slutty mouth. Christ…”
He gets rougher and rougher, fucking me raw until he finally releases with a moan. His cum pours so deep into my throat that I don’t taste it, but the sensation is raw and animal, curling in my stomach like a warm meal.
He holds me down hard until he finishes, not caring that I can’t breathe. I don’t care either. Only that my nose is pressed into his hairless, taut stomach and his cock is still filling my throat.
“Are you going to come in your pants for me again?” he says as soon as his orgasm tapers off. His voice is still low and seductive, but now I can just about see the heady way he’s looking at me at the periphery of my vision. “Go on. Show me how needy you are and hump my leg.”
There’s a flicker of annoyance filtering through me, but not enough to beat back the tide of raw arousal. I am needy for him, right now.
I don’t move any part of myself except my hips. I’m sure he’d still beat me senseless if I tried to touch him with my hands. But my cock needs attention more ferociously than it ever has, so it’s not hard to bend my hips and curl myself up until I’m basically riding his leg.
It’s humiliating. Childish and desperate, but I don’t stop. As soon as I can feel the pressure on my cock through my pants, I’m chasing more of it. I hump my hips and work myself up and down, holding his softening cock in my mouth, making wet grunts around it and continuing to drool down his shaft.
“That’s it, little rabbit. Mess yourself all over again for me.”
That’s all it takes, and before I know it, I’m stuttering my hips, filling my boxers with more cum only a few hours after hedry-humped me to oblivion back in my bedroom. Somehow this has managed to be even more humiliating, but something about it also hit me somewhere deep inside, because I’m convinced I’ve never come harder in my life.
I’m left gasping around his cock, my cock still twitching and my movements unsteady as I pull myself away from him a little at a time, careful not to touch him.
He watches me, silent and unmoving the entire time. I can’t tell if he wants to fuck me again or eat my flesh.
It’s minutes until I’ve arranged myself back in my seat, and he’s quietly slithered back to his. He fished out tissues from somewhere in the car and used it to clean up, although there’s no amount of tissue that could clean all the fucking drool I deposited on his crotch. I wince with embarrassment, but I’m still too dazed for it to fully set in.
Instead, I focus on wiping the mess from my own face. The situation in my pants is not one I’m going to be able to fix, even though I dip a hand in there and try to scoop the worst of it out with the Kleenex. At this point, I am grateful I came already not that long ago. At least it’s less mess to deal with.
The fact that he’s convinced me to go soft and wanton for him twice in one day, after we only just met—and fucked—this morning is a bigger problem than I’m able to address right now.
I’m tired, I’m pissed, and I’m fucking dehydrated. I need to go home and sleep for a week, but I have to resolve this business at the strip club first.
Then I’ll tell him to fuck off. Politely, of course, so Murphy—who I guess really is his father, or something like it—doesn’t flay me alive.
As soon as we’re done with the strip club, I’ll tell him. That was the last time. We’re not ever doing this again.
Chapter Seven
Fallow
Iwas expecting something a lot shabbier than the building Colm pulls us up to. It’s in the middle of nowhere—that much matches the image I had in my head—but everything else is a surprise.
I’ve traveled around this godforsaken country enough to see plenty of truck stop strip clubs, and they tend to feel seedy from top to bottom. Just looking at them makes me feel sticky, and I’ve always refused to go inside. Just the thought of all those… textures. No. No thank you.
But this is a squat, unassuming building that looks well kept up, with a well-lit parking lot, plus only one sign over the door and a small billboard at the turn off advertising what’s inside. It’s givinggentlemen’s clubvibes overgirls girls girls.
I can’t lie, as a teenager, I was intrigued by strip clubs. On television there’s an air of glamor and excess to them that I’ve always been drawn to. It’s only the reality that has seemed a pervasive disappointment. I want to see fabulous dancers and uninhibited sexuality; not poorly disguised human traffickingvictims being assaulted on stage. I’d always assumed the version you see in films was just that—total fiction.
As soon as we’re inside, I realize I might have been delightfully wrong. I generally don’t care for being wrong, but in this case, I’ll make an exception.
This isnice.Not opulent in a Saudi prince sort of way, but genuinely classy. It’s all dark—including some gorgeous black wallpaper with a darker black rococo-style pattern that I have an overwhelming urge to touch—with small platinum accents dotted around. Everything looks spotless, and the black marble floor makes a satisfyingclip-clopsound as I walk across it.
Colm leads me wordlessly through a little foyer, nodding at the security guard as we pass, and then immediately into what looks like the main room. It’s big, with multiple stages and a large bar running down one entire wall. House lights are up, so I can see it in more detail than I would expect during open hours, but it still looks gorgeous. The stripper poles are all glittery and unsmudged, there are discreet little curtains dotted around the edges that must be private rooms, and the seating is all spaced out so guests aren’t on top of each other.
