The sudden ring of his phone startles both of us.
DiAngelo curses and takes the phone out of his back pocket, silencing it and tossing it onto the sofa.
“Hands behind your back, and they better stay there. You hear me?”
Instantly, I’m back in his thrall. His hand cups the back of my head as he guides his cock to my lips. I open for him and feel the corners of my mouth stretch.
Fear of inadequacy escapes me in the form of a quiet whimper.
“You can do it—I know you can,” DiAngelo says in a low murmur.
His voice is so gentle and reassuring, I desperately want to give him exactly what he wants. I try relaxing my gag reflex and welcome him inside me.
“Fuck, yeah. Take me in all the way, baby.” He starts to move himself over my tongue.
I want to wrap my hand around his heavy balls where they’re pulled tight with the need to come, but I won’t move my hands from behind me. Not unless he tells me to.
“Jesus, Ree, your face was made to be fucked.”
DiAngelo’s words fill me with warmth. Strain lines his face as his movements grow faster and more erratic. I try to keep up, following his lead. I wrap my tongue around the head if he pulls back and only gives me the tip, then hollow my cheeks and suck him deep when he plunders my mouth. Saliva coats my lips and drips down my chin but makes me feel oddly beautiful when the sight brings such intense satisfaction to his face.
It doesn’t take long at all before he pulls out and trails head of his cock across my chest with one hand and plucks at my nipples with the other. When he starts to pump himself, eyes still glued to my chest, I know what he’s thinking.
“Tell me you want it. I want to hear the words,” he says raggedly, his control shredding.
“Please, D,” I beg. “Please come on my tits.” My voice is husky and raw from his cock and my own crippling lust. As if I didn’t just have an orgasm, my insides are throbbing with need all over again. The ache to touch myself is so great that I moan in an effort to keep from releasing my hands.
“Jesus fucking Christ, stop before I vomit!” The muffled scream slices through the room like the scratch of a record.
We both stare at one another in a moment of horrified confusion before DiAngelo darts for the sofa and fumbles with his phone.
That’s when I realize. The phone hadn’t been silenced.
He’d accidentally answered it instead.
Someone has been there on the other end, listening.
A geyser of horror erupts in my stomach, threatening to surge up past my throat and all over DiAngelo’s living room rug.
Please, please don’t let it be anyone I know.
“Tommy?” D asks breathlessly.
I make a mad dash for the bathroom.
CHAPTER 31
DIANGELO
Present
I pridemyself on my ability to keep a cool head. I may be intense or act like a dick, but I rarely lose my shit entirely. I can’t remember the last time I hit an inanimate object out of frustration, yet here I stand opposite a fist-sized hole in my guest bedroom wall.
My chest expands and contracts with rapid breaths as I try to calm myself.
I could have gone to the room I use as a home gym. I could have hit the heavy bag. The problem is, that wouldn’t have satisfied this intense need to destroy something. I’m so fucking furious with myself that I can’t see straight. I can’t believe I compromised Terina so recklessly. What an epic fuck-up.
That’s what happens when you forget your priorities.
