His eyes slide slowly closed, and he hunches forward, and for the first time, he bucks helplessly into my fists. "Fuck," he snarls. "Give me your fucking mouth, Brys.Now."
"Yes, Jakob," I whisper.
I clasp his ass in one hand and cup his balls in the other, and take his cock into my mouth. Swirl my tongue around his glans,over his tip, taste his precum, feel him throb against my tongue. And then I open my throat and take him.
All of him.
In a slow, intentional slide, my eyes never leave his.
God, it's been alongtime since I've given a man my throat like this; I'd nearly forgotten how my eyes water, how I have to close my throat around him and gulp air through my nose.
I fucking love it—this helplessness. It's so perversely thrilling to upend my Type-A Boss Bitch Ice Queen persona and let myself be used like this.
Jakob watches as I slide my lips down his length, swallowing frantically around him. His lip curls and his eyes flutter shut for a moment or two as my nose nudges his belly. He hunches over me, and his hands tighten around my head.
Yes. Yes. Please, yes—take me. Make it rough.
I catch his hooded stare and wait, wondering if he really can read me as clearly as I suspect. I’m breathing carefully, one hand on his ass and the other cradling his plump, heavy balls. Waiting for him.
"You want to be used, don't you, Brys?"
I nod and whimper an affirmative sound.
“You want me to fuck your throat, don't you?"
I nod and whimper again.Fuck yes, I do—it’s unspoken but obvious.
He's unleashed a hitherto hidden, buried, secret version of Brys, and she is feral with need, seething with primal, filthy, uninhibited feminine sexuality.
He draws back until I’m kissing and licking his tip, mouthing it the way I would the first bite of an ice cream cone. He cups my cheek, strangely gentle and affectionate. "Get ready, Brys. I can't hold back any longer."
"Fuck my throat. Please.Please, Jakob. I need your cum. Please.Please." I cup his ass in both hands and stare up at him.
Open my mouth wide, tongue out, ready and waiting.
"Such a greedy little slut, aren't you, Brys?"
"Yes, Jakob."
"What are you?"
"A greedy little slut."
"What does my hungry little slut want?"
"Your cock."
"Say please for me. Once more."
"Please?"
He feeds me his cock again, letting go once he's partway down my throat. But this time, he gives me a thrust. I gag on him, catch my breath, gulp, and gasp. Once I've caught my breath, he does it again, deeper, harder. I whimper as he fills my throat, whimper when his balls tap my chin. I cup his ass in both hands and pull him toward me on his next thrust. He growls like a wolf, savage and wild. I take this as a compliment, as encouragement. Gaze up at him as he fucks another slow thrust down my throat.
I pull at him again, and he thrusts. Another pull, faster. Faster.
His breathing is ragged now, his lip curled in a snarling rictus as he fights back his release. God, the man just doesn't know how to let go, does he?
I'll have to show him how. I'll have to make him.
