I hate attention.
I hate desperation.
But hearing Carey mutter to himself, and hammer those damn nails in every time Brooklyn tried to talk, had my dick hard twenty minutes ago.
“Why wouldn’t you look at me?”
I lick through the middle of my pressed lips, taking a facetiously sly and unapproved swipe along the underside of his shaft.
Gripping at the base, Carey slaps it straight down between my eyes.
When I still refuse to answer after a further five seconds, he does it again. Harder. When more silence follows, he fists myhair and wrenches my head to the side. He smacks his dick against my cheek, and the sting shoots straight to my balls.
“Quit ignoring me.”
“What part of this do you think I’m not enjoying?”
“Cheeky prick,” he scowls, dropping his cock to clamp around my jaw and dig his fingers into my cheeks, forcing my teeth to part. Bending forward, he looms over me, his face close. “Be a good boy now.”
I obey, willingly opening wide and sticking out my tongue.
As a reward, he spits in my mouth and I gasp in thanks.
“I wish she could see this.”
He spits again, and it splatters against my tonsils.
I start shaking.
I’m losing focus.
“You like the sound of that, don’t you..?”
I nod as best I can.
“...Then call her in. Let her see what a whore you are, drooling over my cock...”
My breath stutters out, Carey’s spit bubbling in my throat.
“...So fucking pitiful. Can’t even talk...”
He lets go of my jaw to plunge his three middle fingers into my mouth.
He digs deep, and I gag.
The feeling of his nails makes my eyes lose focus.
My head goes limp, only supported by his grip on my hair as his fingers fuck my mouth.
“...What good is this for other than fucking if you won’t use it to tell her you’re taken..?”
I gag again, saliva leaking down my chin.
I try to catch my breath but he’s relentless.
“...Or are you not ready to admit it even to yourself..?”
I cough and splatter.
