Shehasall of me. Always has.
She gags as I hit the back of her throat, and there’s a part of me – the fucked-up bastard – that wants to keep going. To stuff her full. To punish her for making me suffer. For making me feel.
I yank back, self-loathing licking up my spine.
But she moans, head shaking, eyes pleading.
More.
‘Fuck,’ I growl, fingers tight in her hair as I push her down and drive back in. ‘Do you know how good it feels having you beg for my cock?’
She moans around me as I hit the narrow tunnel of her throat.
‘How good it feels to have you choke on it?’ I force her to gag again, knowing it’s what she wants, knowing it’s what I want too. The heat spreads relentlessly as I give myself over to it, using her mouth like it’s mine to do as I please. Hair caught in my fist, mouth wedged wide, tears slipping free.
‘That’s it, Baby Girl. Take it. Take it all.’
I pound and pound, the air filling with the slick sound of her mouth – her broken breath, her desperate moans – until I can’t think. Can’t breathe. Can’t stop.
And I’m gone. No time to warn her. Just gone.
My body locks tight, breath shot, eyes trying to close; but I slam them open, wanting this burnt into me forever. The sight of her taking it. Taking me. Hot jets shooting down her throat, eyes locked on mine, cock buried deep. She takes every last drop, her satisfied moan vibrating all the way to my rattled core.
I may have fucked her mouth, but I’m the one who’s fucked. My fist slackens in her hair, the thought shuddering through me as she swipes her tongue around the tingling head.
She laughs softly, smiling up at me like the cat that got the cream. ‘Sensitive?’
‘Never,’ I lie.
She presses a kiss to the very tip, and I jerk.
‘Course you’re not.’
With a huff, I drag my fingers along her jaw with a tenderness that scares me.
‘You’re so fucking beautiful,’ I say, too honest, too raw.
I brush the last traces from her mouth, and she blinks up at me: mascara-smudged eyes, cheeks flushed and wet, lips red and swollen, and it’s the goddamn truth.
She’s never looked more beautiful.
Or more mine.
I want to wrap her in my arms, carry her to the bed, and never leave.
Which is why I need to get the hell away.
Like, now.
Because the fantasy and the reality and this baby deal are starting to bleed into each other, and that end she wanted in writing, it’s getting harder to picture. Because when I have her like this, I can’t imagine ever giving it up. Even for her sake.
And you thought kissing was the line… Who’s the fool now?
I step back, zipping myself away before my body betrays me again, and she stumbles forward, hands catching on the floor as she looks up, confused.
‘Where are you— what are you doing?’
‘Leaving.’ I drain the drink I poured for her, needing the burn. Needing to look like I’ve got this when I sure as hell don’t. ‘What’s wrong, Baby Girl? Wanting your fix too?’
