I’ve got two spirits playing backseat driver on my shoulders right now—a devil egging me on, and an angel trying to warn me about the very real ramifications of lockjaw. “It’s—wow, that’s…”
“Intimidating?”
“Big.”
Knox gives his dick a half-hearted pump, sustaining circulation. Though I don’t think anything in this universe could make him soft again. “You’ve seen it before. Don’t flatter me, Staten.”
Still in my lacy lingerie, I situate myself on the ground, on my knees, so I’m at an opportune angle to suck him off. Knox scoots his body to the edge of the bed, his cock jutting out in front of him.
My first reservation of the night flakes off my tongue. “Is it okay if I take my time? I’m just not really sure?—”
He takes my face in his hands. “Hey, it’s more than okay. The fact that you want to do this at all is incredible. You don’t need to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”
“What if I don’t make you come?”
“Again, we’re talking about impossibilities here, Ace. I could come just from staring at you in that skimpy little two-piece. No touching required. But it’s more fun if there is.”
Nodding, I prepare myself with a crack of my jaw to loosen the hinges, and then, before I lose my gall, my lips envelop just the upcurved tip. His musk hits me immediately, the saltiness from his spend overwhelming in the best kind of way. My mouth salivates, and thanks to the thin film of lubrication already sheeting his shaft, it’s easy to position him accordingly.
The deep pit in his throat issues a half-strung moan, and my overachieving disposition wants to hear every note change of his vocalized pleasure.
“You can—you can use your tongue,” he whispers, snapping his hips toward my face.
Priding myself on being a fast learner, I do as he says, darting my tongue out to explore the ridges of his cock, employing some kind of tag team effort to lick and suck at the same time. His piercings are cold and bitter in taste, but they don’t impede me as much as I thought they would.
Knox’s stomach crunches, and he wrestles a hand into my hair for support. “Fuck, baby. Just like that. That’s perfect. You’re a goddamn natural.”
When I harvest the courage to go deeper, I make sure to hollow my cheeks before descending, and I get a hungry kickback from his dick that tells me I’m acing this whole blowjob thing. Call it astrokeof genius, if you will.
I’m halfway down the size of him. I know better than to try and deep-throat him right out of the gate.
Sticking to a suction that distributes just the right amount of pressure, I bob my head like I’ve seen girls do in explicitmovies, though I failed to account for the amount of spit and drool involved. Even allowing him a wide berth, the lip-splitting intrusion wrings enough saliva from my glands to have it dribbling down my chin.
Knox doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he’s conducting a chorus of moans and whimpers that makes my pussy spurt liquid desire in response.
“Jesus, Staten. That feels so good.Youfeel so fucking good.”
The playboy troublemaker of the hockey team looks like a centerfold spread out before me—the apotheosis of relaxation, toned body dotted in perspiration, abs gleaming like wet bricks at the bottom of a well.
I’m a slut for praise, and I jump the gun by eating another inch of his dick, only to accidentally unsheathe my teeth and scrape them against the sensitive skin. He cringes, tugging on my hair for the first time since I’ve knelt before him, and I can feel his cock twitch in between my lips.
“Uh, try—try not to use your teeth. You just have to relax your throat a little more,” he tells me.
I pop off immediately, taking some of his slick with me as embarrassment picks the stupid lock guarding my heart. “I’m sorry.”
Although he’s still tense—like my half bite mangled every one of his nerve endings—there’s no reproach in his tone. A nice change from the little voice in my head that serves as my worst critic.
“There’s no need to apologize, baby. You’re doing everything right. It’s just a preference.”
My jaw is starting to hurt, my bare knees are picking up imprints from the hardwood floor, and my empty belly is begging for something to fill it. A growling hunger with an appetite for something inedible, wholly human.
I’m determined to make him come. So, compiling every full-lipped suckle or lap that he’s liked so far (identified by aresponsive jerk from his dick), I milk his length, watching his face for that orgasmic haze that lingers on the horizon, promising catharsis.
“Atta girl. You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth,” he coos, tipping my chin up just slightly so our eyes collide in a maelstrom of passion. “Eyes on me. Let me see what I do to you.”
I don’t come up for air. I don’t make the same mistake using my teeth. I do gag a little, but the sound does more for him than me. I maintain eye contact for as long as I can, even as moisture sizzles in my tear ducts and congests my sinuses. Judging by the hitch of his breath and the flex of his cock, he’s almost there. I’m so caught up in the overstimulation of it all that I don’t register his half-drafted warning.
“Shit, fuck. Staten, you might want to pull aw?—”
