Nowthatis how you negotiate. I couldn’t stick my tongue out quicker if I tried.
A brown stick comes into view, and I gasp, momentarily disarmed. That’s not exactly what I thought he had in mind.
Kohen presses the compressor down on my tongue, looking down his nose at me in intrigue. Something wildly innate in me has an uncharacteristic urge to be the best possible patient I can be. It makes me push my tongue out and open my mouth as wide as I can.
What the fuck is this man doing to me?
The tongue compressor doesn’t stay there for long before his fingers replace the wood. The rubbery scent fills my senses and settles over my taste buds as he rubs his fingers up and down my tongue. Hegoes all the way back when I don’t expect it. My body reacts, closing my throat around him as I rear back and sputter a cough.
Kohen makes a sound of disapproval that makes me want to both lash out and cower. “You can do better than that, Thief.”
The glare I give him doesn’t go very far because his fingers are in my mouth before I can speak, going just as deep as before. Undeterred by my choking, he does it over and over again, going further back each time, almost as if he’s training me. He tips his head to the side as if calculating whether my reflexes can handle him. The prospect of having his cock in my mouth does the opposite of sicken me and, for the first time in my life, I actuallywantthis while being stone-cold sober.
Hiscock.
It’d be like a treat for being his good little patient.
“Suck them,” he orders.
I try to do as I'm told, but I'm unable to because Kohen chooses that exact moment to finally—finally—push his other fingers into my aching core. And it feels like I just found God, Mary, and fucking Zeus. I visit every version of heaven there is just from the slide of his digits. It’s divine ecstasy.
Bucking up into his hand, I quietly moan around him just so he doesn’t get the satisfaction of hearing the full extent of my pleasure. Also, if I let myself make all the sounds I want to make, someone’s going to call security, and I can’t promise myself I won’t be charged with homicide at the end of it.
Kohen pulls his fingers out of my cunt, and my eyes snap wide open.
Howdarehe stop? I’m going to fucking kill—
“Suck,” he says, his voice low enough to vibratein my veins.
There’s no snarky comment I can make when my lips are wrapped around his glove-covered fingers in a game of tonsil hockey. If I buck my hips in search of his hand, he wins the round, but if I move my top half, pain will slice through my chest from the clamps. So we enter into a stare-off, with him still in my mouth and my core dripping and swollen.
I’m going to break first. He knows it. I know it. There’s no point to the quarrel, butboydoes it feel good to see his eyes turn to stone when I wrap my tongue around his digits and play with them languidly, just like he did with my nipples.
It’s a sweet treat. A lollipop. It’d be a crime not to taste every inch of it.
The tip of my tongue runs along his latex fingers, pushing in the seam between them to give each the deserved attention. I pull back, kissing them, devouring them, acting out everything I would do to Kohen’s cock. He’s forgotten that he’s not the only one who can be thorough.
His breaths come out heavy as he zeroes in on my tongue's ministrations. The same power I felt that night in my room flows through me as his hand closes the distance to my pussy.
That’s right, Pyro. You’re my bitch too.
He teases me just like I’m teasing him, skirting around my entrance and skating his latex-clad hand over my clit. The rubber adds an extra layer of pleasure I didn’t think was possible. I mimic the move with my tongue, this time dropping my attention away from his hazel eyes down to the dent pushing against his pants. Just as I’m about to give in and behave like he wants, he pulls his fingers out of my mouth and uses them to breach my entrance at the same time he slams his lips to mine to swallow a silent scream.
The kiss is as bruising as it was the first night, except I’m needier and angrier, and his kiss feels desperate.
The same desperation tinges his voice when he slips out of me to discard his gloves on the table.
“I want to feel you when you come,” he pants.
A low groan rumbles through his chest when he sinks his bare fingers back into me. My eyelids flutter at the warmth of his skin directly against mine. Something about the direct contact makes the touch more sensual and intimate as if this is not just a onetime thing, but rather the start of a bond. His rough, calloused hands waste no time pummeling me like we’re about to get caught, and he wants to finish the job with flying colors. The metallic taste of blood blooms on my tongue from biting it to keep from making a sound. Anyone could come knocking on that door, and only one of us is naked right now.
If all doctor visits were like this and from men who look like Kohen, I’d be making weekly appointments.
He makes the act of fucking me with his fingers seem so medical, with his flattened brows and the hawklike focus in his eyes.
Actually, maybemedicalisn’t the right word. Methodical. Critical. An experiment to figure out what makes me tick and what makes me scream. Kohen’s probably writing mental notes of his findings, and planning the next phase in his kinky clinical trials. It’s the face of a man with a goal in mind, and every intention to succeed beyond measure.
The lewd sounds of his fingers vigorously pumping into me fills the air. It makes me preen knowing he wants to study me and become familiar with every facet of my body so he knows how best to treat it.
